NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE: No matter what happens, I keep coming back to this story. Something about it keeps drawing me back, and while I know I promised to update it almost a year ago, I'm back for real this time. I'm sorry for not finishing, I'm sorry for the grammar issues...but this whole thing has felt like a monster, and as a writer, I finally feel like I can tackle it. In one afternoon, I edited ten chapters. I hope to keep doing this until the whole thing is fixed. I'm not sure if this thing will gain any sort of popularity again, nor do I expect it to, but here's hoping that I can inspire a few people with some Shakarian. So, without further ado, Security is back and I hope you all like the changes I've made. Cheers. :)

OLD A/N Hello everyone, this story is in the process of being rewritten, and because it is quite difficult, all of my original author's notes might not make it. I'll try my best just to retype if it's important stuff so please bear with me. Some changes to this story are minor while others might be major. Thank you for your time and patience.

ORIGINAL A/N

Wow guys.

Hi.

It's been a while.

And in that while, I have fallen in love with and played 66% of the Mass Effect Series.

This is my attempt to make something beautiful out of it.

Security

Your name was Garrus Vakarian and you were starting to wonder if the vid playing in front of you was real.

It has been exactly eight thousand seven hundred and sixty five hours since you had last seen the Citadel at least somewhat intact.

That would make it around eight thousand seven hundred and sixty six hours since you had last seen her. It wasn't like you had counted or anything; you were supposed to have something else to distract yourself with. You could have lied about it all you wanted; however, it was still clear that you were a mess. Even the most naïve of aliens could understand that there was something wrong with you and the former SR-2 crew.

What had happened after you had been taken aboard the Normandy a year ago wasn't supposed to be engraved in your mind, but you could easily recall it all. Grim expressions had graced Hackett's face as your body was shoved into the elevator. You had still been conscious, too.

"Get him to the Med-Bay!" she had yelled while the metal Normandy doors shut. Your eyes closed, and that was the last you had seen her. It was also the last time you had heard the sounds of a dying Earth; ear-shattering screams accompanied by the sounds of rapid fire weapons and biotic charges had been cut off as soon as you were back where you had belonged. In that one moment, the Reapers had come to kill everyone, and they were fulfilling the prophecy that you knew all too well. They were a race that didn't discriminate; it had to be their only redeeming quality. They didn't care if you were turian or human, nor batarian or quarian. As far as you knew, they just wanted your body turned into something that could be of use to their cause. Husks, banshees, cannibals; they all contributed to their bizarre quest with unknown motivations.

Just moments before, the doors of the Normandy were wide open and you had still been caught up in all of the mad chaos that the Reapers had brought upon the galaxy. Liara had been next to you, her suit covered in her own violet blood from a shrapnel related injury. She had undoubtedly been hurt more than you had. After the asari had been hauled into the Normandy for medical care, you veered towards Shepard as she reached out to touch your armored hand. Blue liquid gushed from your wounds, but you refused to succumb to them as another crew member started to pull you away. Those moments could have been the last you would ever share with your commander; you planned on running with her to the beam regardless of her orders.

Besides, you had never been one for subordination.

"I'll always love you." she had said. This time you knew for sure that she wasn't just humoring you.

As cliché as it had been, it was real.

There were so many words you could have said right about then. Hell, there were words you could have told her when you had been back in the London Alliance camp a few hours prior. You hadn't told her enough before the squad set out for the conduit. The "what if's" had swirled in your mind since you had woken up with Dr. Chakwas standing over you. What could have happened if she had stayed with you?

You could have settled down together on a beautiful, warm planet and tried your hand at making some human-turian babies regardless of incompatible biology. If that didn't work, there were plenty of displaced children that would be looking for someone to help them start over. Sitting out in the tantalizing sunlight, you could have felt sand nip at your scaly feet as you made love to a woman who wasn't exactly what you had planned on being with. She didn't have mandibles or a brawny exoskeleton. This woman had scarred skin that had felt the twinge and bite of every battle that it had experienced. Her normally bunned up hair could come down and the ends would tickle your battered cheeks, and her back would arch whenever you would trace a single mar on her body. The awkwardness had disappeared between you two long ago, and you could have just lived your life in peace. No Reapers, no Collectors, no Cerberus.

It was going to be you and her and whoever the hell you wanted to be in your life that you shared with her.

You hadn't told her any of these details, though. You kept it brief and only mentioned the tropical climate and the kids. When you took her in an embrace and told her to come back alive, she melted at your touch. At the mention of children, she chuckled. It was rumored that human women swooned at lovey-dovey comments and heartfelt goodbyes, but Shepard didn't seem to be the average human woman. She was a warrior who couldn't just be human flesh. There had to be something more.

But those last moments…those feelings…could they ever be recreated?

In the past three hundred and sixty five days, you doubted it. You watched the galaxy get rebuilt piece by piece. The mass relays were repaired, the Citadel was slowly restored and the Council was back in session. Everything was at peace, even when you stepped on the ancient "prothean" work of art for the first time in a year. Things were eerily normal again. C-Sec officers laughed and called your name. Avina still smiled brightly with a purple hue, no longer buzzing out due to ignored mechanical failures. There was still that working model of Shepard where the refugees used to camp out. Things were far from being in a state of total repair, but it was better than it had been initially. It looked like a façade, but things still felt like they could be ok. Mundane at most would have been a better term to describe it, especially after the terror that everyone in the galaxy had experienced.

That is, until you were caught staring at a certain vid for five straight minutes by a confused asari.

"You didn't know?" she had asked. "Commander Shepard has been spotted around here for the longest time! I heard she survived the Crucible blast! You're that turian, right? Rumor has it that she's been looking for you. Of course, that's what that latest gossip magazine said. Can't always trust what they say"

Your name was Garrus Vakarian, and that was the moment when you knew that there was something still left to live for, even if it was nothing more than just a rumor.

PS-I apologize that the original author's notes could not be entirely kept in tact due to the documents all expiring, so I would like to thank each and every one of you that reviewed. If I actually have patience, I might try and retype all of them simply for consistency and nostalgia..