Inspired by Mass Effect 1 & 2, some characters belong to Bioware, as does the ME universe.

"Executor, we have evidence that Kell was not only with Miss Bright, but a witness able to place her at the scene. We can't just let her leave the station!"

Executor Pallin sat behind his desk, hands bridged and expression unfazed. He didn't even look up.

"Officer Vakarian. You know procedure with diplomats. The appropriate orders can be sent through the embassy, and if we're lucky, they will agree to our terms. Until then, she has the immunity to travel as she wishes. We don't need another incident."

"Do you know how hard it was to get Vela to agree to give a statement?"

"That may be, but it doesn't factor in, Garrus. You know that."

Garrus crossed his arms, mandibles flaring as he exhaled.

Ignoring the officer's annoyance, the turian executor leant forward and keyed a few commands into the terminal on his desk.

"Until we hear from the consular-agent, the case is suspended. I'm reassigning you to a report of fraud in Thelate Ward."

"Executor -"
Pallin raised a hand.

"Vakarian. We've been here before. You were accepted back into C-sec on the understanding you would follow protocols and orders. Your record as an investigator sustained you - don't add to the suspicions that aiding Commander Shepard affected your work ethic."

Garrus recoiled, his arms unlinking. The executor continued to type a few things, before retrieving a data pad from a slot in a drawer.

"Stick to procedure."

Snatching the offered data pad, Garrus clipped, "Aye, sir."

Lights danced across the table and over Garrus' eyes, and he sat back in the booth, letting the nearby strut shadow his eyes. Barely a week since the human girl had been killed, and it was like nothing ever happened. The music filled the atmosphere of the club, and lithe asari bodies swayed and wove their movements in time with it.

The executor wouldn't be pleased to know he was there. The filler assignment he'd been given had taken Garrus barely two days to gather the needed information. It'd take twice that to finish the necessary paper work. And Pallin knew it.

Swiping his cup from the table before him, Garrus drained the blushed liquor away, feeling its pleasant sting warm its way into his gullet. Focused on some unseen point, he didn't notice the dancer beside him till she touched his knee.

"Always so distracted."

His predacious eyes swivelled back, depositing the glass on the table as the young asari offered him another. Tossing a chit onto her tray, he took the glass, and in a fluid motion it was emptied too. Garrus' mandibles flexed as he sat up.

"Hard not to be with the workout you ladies give."

The girl laughed, her head tilting and showing off the indigo freckles that smattered her cheeks and neck in the swirling light. The music flowed into a new set, the base renewing itself with a warm thud in the chest. Clearing the glasses, she slid a knee across the table, her garment scarce concealing the curve of her thighs and the press of her breasts into their tight constriction.

Garrus sat back again, crossing one leg with mild discomfort. Vela had been the only one at Cloud Nine willing to say a thing about the murder. Her roommate was the one that got killed. From what he'd found, Garrus knew it put her at considerable risk. Something he wasn't sure she realized. More then three times his age, and that much more naïve.

Drawing a deep breath, Garrus looked to Vela, her eyes upon him as she swayed and drew her hands over thighs and waist. Lissom and fluid, her legs spread apart on the table, tensed to support her body as she leant forward into him.

"Come to bring me good news?" The asari rested a hand beside his knee for support, dancing as though the gyrations of her body were as casual as the conversation.

Garrus looked down, and Vela's motions hitched briefly, before she caught herself and flexed back, arching to lie back on the table. Coiling up, her hands moved around her waist again, drawing his eyes back.

"I can't do anything, Vela."

The asari's head snapped around, watching his face.

"I saw that bitch kill, Liz. What, don't they believe me?"

Garrus rolled his neck, looking up through the lights before leaning onto his knees and letting his voice drop.

"She's a diplomat. C-sec can't touch her."

"She's Eclipse!"

The asari hissed as she danced closer, still knelt on the table as she ran a hand up over his plated armour, their faces close.

"We can't prove that. We have to go through the proper channels."

The beat of the music pulsed louder, and Vela turned her head aside, arms up to contribute to the sinuous motions of her body. Rolling her hips and breasts, she closed her eyes.

"Why are you here, officer?"

Garrus' hand dropped to the table between her legs, his eyes on his talons before watching her face. Did he think he'd see something else? That he'd glean anything that would help change the executor's mind? He knew better then that.

Heat flared in the tips of his fringe and he grunted, the sound lower then the music. Three drinks. Such a lightweight. Shepard would've kicked his ass. The thought twisted his insides. Blinking lengthily, he refocused on the asari dancer, the moving lights of the club creating a rainbow over her periwinkle skin. What was he doing? Wasting his fucking time.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Vela." His voice flanged, and he tossed another credit chit on the table. It tinked and hit her thigh as he stood up and strode to the door.

Walking through the back streets to the transport station, the destruction still visible in every corner of the Citadel reminded him of what had been lost. Keepers were out in force, their work difficult to follow, but slowly the galactic hub was piecing back together. His small apartment in the wards stood unscathed beside a massive section of Sovereign, heat-welded and embedded into the building it took out. Each day a little more of it was gone.

Inside his home, the small window in the den afforded a few through the neon-lit ward. His face and fringe were still flushed from the liquor, and the clock read 01:00. His shift was only a few hours away. Dragging himself to bed, the quiet of his insomnia was eventually broken by the urgent blip of his omni-tool.

It was a crime scene summons. There'd been another incident at Cloud Nine. There was a preliminary list of causalities, more then one asari dancer among them.

Vela.

Striding up the ramp, Garrus waved his omni-tool before the security drone, and the barrier flickered, letting him into the club. It worbed to life behind him, and the thick scent of blood filled his senses. It was a gruesome scene.

The main bar on the right was completely blown away, the blackened edges of metal curling over the catwalk that led from it. It was barely a quarter of an hour since he'd been called, and the pools of different-coloured blood here and there where bodies lay were still glistening wet, the forms motionless, with limbs missing or awkwardly askew. There were three other C-sec officers on the scene, each one from the district Garrus primarily worked in. He walked over to the young human he knew, Shala Patal.

"Patal, see you got pulled into this too?"

The woman stood, relaxing her arms as she redirected the drone aside her, a light fluttering on its front as it took vid and recorded holos of the scene.

"Didn't think we'd both be back here so soon - least, I hoped not." Shala sighed.

Garrus flicked through his omni-tool, the orange glow wavering as it acquired data from the other investigators present.

"They think one of the gas vents leaked an explosion. But we can't rule anything out."

Hand glowing with the drone controls, Patal redirected the hovering orb to the next body, nodding to Garrus. She motioned towards the bar with her free hand.

"There aren't any residues that would suggest tampering or explosives, though. Not so far."

Gathering readings, Garrus nodded, stepping with care amidst the carnage. His kinetic barrier flickered, standard protocol when dealing with a crime scene to help prevent contamination.

"What is the casualty report?"

"Seven fatalities, and more injured. Five employees, two patrons. They're luck it was so late, it could have been a lot worse."

Garrus grumbled a reply, looking about again. Waving a reply, he strode over to the crumpled asari that caught his eye, periwinkle skin darkened by the richer hue of blue blood. A knot tightened in his gut, and he clenched his jaw.

She'd followed him into the alley the night Liz Bright was killed, after he'd run up against a wall questioning everyone in the club. The dark-haired human was found dead in the doorway of one of the private rooms. Vela had been scared, but she'd eased in time as he spoke. And now she was dead.

The freckles on her cheeks and neck were faded, eyes darkly clouded, and the ridges on her head lay flaccid and greyed. Bits of data flicked over his visor, readings from his omni-tool, and Garrus stood up, looking away. Her breath had smelled sweetly, a deliberate enticement when she had danced.

A list of identified DNA scrolled over his vision, catalogued as the sensors completed their sweep. The smallest molecule could be picked up, the technology used cutting edge. Word was they were beginning to install the sweeps at the docking bays to screen visitors.

"Hey Vakarian."

Turning around, Garrus blinked out of his thoughts, Patal standing beside him again, keying information into her arm.

"Hmm?"

"Word came you're off the case. Figured I'd let you know before someone tried to escort you out."

Garrus' arms dropped, brow furrowing as he looked at her.

"Your DNA and phens are on the scene. On one of the dancers too."

Closing his eyes, a low rumble vibrated in Garrus' chest. Of course.

"Just what I need."

"Never figured you the type."

Shaking his head, Garrus copied the data collected, extending his wrist to Patal, and their omni-tools linked.

"The Executor's gonna love this."

Patal patted his arm, a light slap on the armour. Garrus shrugged her hand away, striding beside the fallen dancer.

"You better head down and give a statement."

Stopping by the barrier-sealed door, Garrus hesitated. His voluntary presence would look better. Still, Pallin would know he'd been here looking for more information. His acceptance back into C-sec had been conditional, and left him on probation.

"Yea.. yea. Thanks, Patel."

Striding out through the barrier-protected door, the security drone blipped, the confirmation flickering over Garrus' visor. Cool air hit him, the sealed air in the club stifled with burnt metal and the itchy-throat scents of varying blood species. The simulated breeze brought with it the smells of the ward, the few restaurants nearby and the sweat, fluids and industrial processes. Though the keepers cleaned, recovery from the attack on the Citadel was slow, their attentions focused on repairs and removal of debris - and of all the millions that found their home on the station, it was never any wonder what smells it brought with it.

In a jiff he was at the transport deck, whisked away into the sky by a proprietary C-sec cruiser. The simulated night left lights low through the towering, pressurized buildings, the glow of the nebula beyond bright behind the shadowy edifices. The arms of the ancient station never slept, reaching wide through the hazy cloud that enshrouded it. Traffic was light, and docked again, Garrus went to C-sec.

The hours of the early morning whiled away as he recounted his presence at Cloud Nine, thankful to be processed by one of the newer recruits; a human who knew enough to keep any snide remarks to himself. Fatigue was tugging at the periphery of his senses, and the morning shift rolled over to relieve the night.

Forced to wait for the Executor's summons, Garrus scanned through news reports and intel as he lingered in the academy's lounge. It was mid-morning by the time his omni-tool blipped, and the request flecked across his visor.

"The truth is Garrus, I'm tired of your disregard for protocols. Even if your heart is in the right place." Executor Pallin linked his talons together, posture rigid in his chair. Garrus stood with his arms linked together behind him, expression fatigued.

"There was an expectation that upon your return to C-sec, you would show marked improvement in your old position. The responsibilities afforded your office necessitate tact. It isn't enough to get the job done."

Garrus kept his eyes on the presidium gardens beyond the Executor's office. They had exchanged heated words for the past half hour, each unyielding to the other's ground.

"While you consider it red tape, we do things a certain way because it works, and offers all citizens and visitors to the Citadel the same degree of law and order."

"I guess justice is incidental, then?"

The Executor's mandibles flared wide, his eyes down, unfocused at the display on his desk.

"That is just it, Officer Vakarian - justice is determined by the guidelines C-sec has outlined and ratified over many centuries. It is called due process for a reason." "Our laws become nothing without the soul that guides them."

Talons still clasped, Pallin rested his hands down on the desk.

"I had hoped that your time away from C-sec would help you grow past clinging to your own ideals in your investigative actions." Keying in a few things on the suspended, orange-glowing keyboard before him, the Executor drew a quick breath. Garrus' omni-tool blipped.

"Be glad I'm only putting you on administrative leave." Pallin raised a hand as Garrus made to speak, "It's policy, Vakarian, you know that. A lesser investigator, I would have terminated, considering you've already been on probation. You're talented, thorough and intelligent. I've always strove to give you the possibilities I could. I'll inform you when the investigation is concluded. Until then, stay on the Citadel."

Garrus clenched his teeth, his blood running hot. "Yes, sir."

"And I suggest you drop this. I want have you back in full force and off probation. But just because you played hero with some Spectre doesn't mean I'm going to hand it to you."

Shifting his weight, Garrus' mandibles flexed indignantly, and it wasn't lost on the Executor.

"Maybe practise keeping your emotions out of your work. You'll do a better job."

"Is there anything else, sir?" Garrus crossed his arms low over his waist. This incident would cement the tentative silence his father had maintained since he'd left to work with Shepard. No one seemed to care about honouring the fact she was dead.

Executor Pallin's attention was already back to the information on his display.

"No. Dismissed."

Left to wander to the rapid transit hub, Garrus kept his head down, wondering what it left him able to do.

The insistent chime of the door finally cut through Garrus' hangover, and the turian sat up with careful ease. His blurry vision was slow to focus, and he reached for his visor to check the clock. He'd slept through the day, and 20:00 just about to turn over to the next. The door chimed again, the sound cutting in and closing his eyes.

Despite deliberately going to a different ward and a bar then he'd ever found himself at, Garrus'd managed to bump officers he knew from his military legion. On the heels of his suspension from C-sec, it'd been easy to fall into a long night of drinking with them.

His apartment door chimed again, followed by a loud rap on the locked door, the sounds of a muffled voice beyond. Rousing himself, Garrus grabbed his shirt and zipped his trousers as he plodded to the door. He touched the comm.

"What?"

"Garrus! Fuck sake's Garrus, I've been hitting for almost five minutes."

"Patal?"

"Yea – look, are you going to let me in?"

Garrus groaned, talons over his face. He hadn't drank like that since…

"It's kinda late, you know that, right?"

Patal's voice grew more intimate against the comm, the sound heated, "I'm risking my ass coming here, Vakarian. This isn't some social call."

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Garrus keyed open the door, and it slid aside. With scarce a hello, Shala Patal stepped in, looking over her shoulder as the door shut again.

"By all means, make yourself comfortable." Garrus waved a hand as she locked the door, his jaw set as she turned to him.

"Where have you been?" Shala took a step back, and she crossed her arms, shoulders cringed.

Coughing, Garrus turned, motioning her in as he turned on a light. "Well. I'm sure you heard - I got suspended. Seemed to me spending the night in a bar was the right thing to do."

Shala shook her head and followed, producing a data pad from her coat as she muttered, "Then you better sober up quick."

Garrus took the pad, hand on his hip as he read the information on it. In a moment, his dark eyes turned up to her. He had to clear his throat, suddenly parched.

"Is this a joke?"

"See me laughing?" Shala closed her eyes, tilting her head back before saying, "C-sec is planning the arrest for morning. I – I didn't believe what was there, I mean I –"

Garrus shook his head, "No, I appreciate it. You're... risking a lot coming here."

Shala's shoulders relaxed down, and Garrus looked at the data pad again.

"Vela – the dancer – she'd submitted a statement. She saw Kell and Miss Bright together. I just wanted to…"

Garrus turned and flung the data pad onto the small table by the kitchen. He touched his talons to his brow, turning back to Patal.

"What can they possibly even have on me? There's nothing wrong with going to see strippers. As if it wasn't bad enough that Pallin put me on leave."

"Something in the access tubes. You and I both know the keepers keep them spotless, they wouldn't just explode or break down. I know you wouldn't do something like that, either."

"Thanks, Shala." Garrus put his hands on his hips, suddenly sighing.

"I figured the least I could do is come find you before the rest of C-sec does. Told you to cooperate yesterday and look where it got ya."

"What?"

"Well it's obvious someone is trying to frame you. Are you still drunk, Vakarian? You're usually on the ball faster then I am." Shala tilted her head, her dark hair falling off her shoulder as she smirked.

Closing his eyes, Garrus tempered the flush of his ire. His mandibles twitched as he thought. They had genetic proof he was at the scene, that he'd been close to one of the dancers, and linked to the access tunnels where the explosion originated. Even if he was cleared, his career in C-sec was over, and his Spectre application out the door.

"We have about four hours?"

"Yeah."

He cursed under his breath.