Full Summary:
Celebrated as the Hero of the Blitz, and the Victor of Torfan, Shepard is the Alliance's rising star. In a bid to increase her chances of being accepted by the Council as a Spectre candidate, her superiors have called in favors and had her assigned as an emeritus C-Sec officer. Unaware of the motives behind her post, Shepard makes the best of the situation, but her partner in Investigations, Garrus Vakarian, can't bring himself to trust her. Shepard senses the threat, but she has a hidden agenda that is far more important than managing one suspicious turian. (Darkfic, trigger-happy, multiple pairings. F/F, F/M, AU)
Paragon*, Sentinel*, Spacer, War Hero/Ruthless
Blood dripped down her back, slowly sliding along her spine before soaking into the fabric of her dress. Her arm throbbed and she suspected a broken bone. Carefully curling the fingers of her left hand nearly tore a cry of pain from her lips. Just what I need, Shepard acidly thought, resisting the urge to kick the dying man at her feet. She checked her temper. Cruelty at this point was beneath her. The turian's blue blood spread slowly across the floor, mostly away from her, thankfully. Instead of lashing out, she stepped back and watched him struggle weakly as he choked on his own blood.
This time, her target had put up a fight and he had almost bested her. He still might prove to finish her off if she wasn't careful and clever. She was certain no one had been alerted electronically, and the struggle would have sounded identical to what they were doing half an hour earlier– not that she believed anyone had been listening. As he feebly tried and failed to roll away from her, she wondered if it was bad luck or sloppiness on her part that he had turned around just as she was about to bury her knife under his cowl and into his unprotected neck.
As she watched, he stopped moving, and she dismissed the thought. Either way, she would need to clean his talons and make certain there was none of her blood anywhere else in the room. At least he had just taken a shower and washed away any other indication of her presence. Prints and DNA didn't actually matter– she had long ago ensured that any evidence sample run through C-sec databases that turned up as a match for hers would be incorrectly flagged– but the knife would indicate an asari assailant, and human DNA, even without a hit in the database, would expose that bit of misdirection and provoke a deeper investigation.
It hadn't been easy to get her hands on that particular blade. It belonged to an asari commando who had been deemed mentally unstable and relieved of duty. Within a day, she had broken out of custody, killing a C-sec officer and wounding two others. All three of the woman's bond mates over the years had been turians as well, so no one would question her interest in another one. It would be an unthinkable waste of good cover to allow the forensics team to find a scrap of human DNA on Avitus or in the room.
Shepard donned her jacket, gritting her teeth as she pushed her injured arm through the sleeve, then she zipped it halfway and carefully tucked her left hand close to her body. It was a shoddy sling, but it would do. She couldn't take anything from the hotel room or it would be missed, and she didn't want anything to tie her to this place anyway. Soon, she would be producing answers for a C-sec officer, in the hospital if she was lucky. There would be a lot of questions, but if she did this right, not a single one would refer to a murdered turian.
Shepard got to work. First, she made certain Avitus was dead with a quick scan from her omni-tool. She knelt carefully, avoiding the blood, and reached out to snag his wrist. A quick spritz from a small perfume bottle that contained a very special mixture that was anything but ordinary perfume took care of the traces of her blood on his dulled talons, and an additional half-dozen pumps finished the job. The substance might raise suspicions, but it was easier and more reliable than trying to wipe every trace of blood away.
The levo-dextro reaction was enough to make getting a clean sample next to impossible when turian and human blood mixed, but the microbes in the bottle completely deconstructed any aminos they came into contact with and reconfigured them into a structure they could use for fuel. In half an hour, there would be no chance of even the best forensics team finding a trace of her in the room. In seven hours– the soonest she expected Avitus would be missed– the teams would have to use a tissue sample, not a blood swab, to identify him with DNA, and the microbes would probably have mostly eaten themselves out and died off, reducing the likelihood of unintentional contamination.
By the time she left, she was beginning to feel light-headed. A bad sign, especially since there was still so much to do and it was probably either a concussion or shock from the broken bone. She couldn't let it overwhelm her yet, the consequences if she didn't finish cleaning up first would be disastrous– not just for her, but for all of humanity. The thought brought some clarity and bolstered her determination. Avitus had really knocked her around before she got the stasis field on him, but she'd planned for the worst, and it wouldn't take much to get everything back under control. It wouldn't have been a problem at all if she didn't need medical attention. Unquestioned medical attention. She made a mental note to seek out a doctor who could be bribed to work under the table in future situations. Her current contingency plan to get herself to the hospital was expensive and extreme.
She turned to leave, and stuck her hand in her pocket, seeking the keys to her vehicle. Instead, she found the perfume bottle, and with a start, she realized she hadn't neutralized its contents, yet. Normally, she wouldn't need to destroy such a useful tool, and the expense of replacing it made her consider stashing it somewhere to retrieve later, but that was the kind of thinking that would get her caught. She sighed and set the bottle down so she could use her omni-tool's flashlight. Having only one good hand made it difficult to adjust the light's settings to an anti-microbial lamp to sterilize the perfume, but it only took a moment, then the perfume went back into her pocket, now devoid of the very useful microbes, and only slightly chemically distinct from any other bottle of scent that bore the same label.
As she left the room, she ran the pre-loaded program to destroy surveillance footage from the building and parking dock that would identify her. With a sigh of relief, she finally she got into her car and set the destination– a club in the lower wards that was a known recruiting ground for the Blue Suns– and once she was a block away, she reached under the passenger seat. The unsealed evidence bag she withdrew held a personal bluewire device that had visibly been modified and decorated with what looked like human teeth, though a few of them were definitely alien. She set it aside and, with some difficulty due to her injury, activated her own omni-tool and sent an encrypted remote command to the other device, which lit up and projected the image of a laughing turian skull, slightly distorted from passing through the evidence bag.
She just had time to change her destination and wipe the skycar's log of the last few entries before a car headed in the opposite direction swerved directly toward her. She evaded the runaway vehicle, which slammed into the poor bastard just behind her. With a jerk, she flipped her car around, activated her C-Sec protocols to keep traffic flowing around her, and set down a few yards away from the smoking mess of steel and glass.
She scanned traffic and, seeing no one else attempting to render aid, got out of her car. As she rose, she freed her injured arm from the makeshift sling. She fought to avoid blacking out from the pain as it was jostled and swung free, and she tried not to visibly favor it, in case any of the victims of the crash were watching. Before she'd taken three steps, another skycar malfunctioned and caused another head-on collision in the nearest stream of traffic.
One of the vehicles crashed to the ground within a few paces of the first crash, but the other stayed in the air and continued an unstable path past them for a moment before swinging wildly around and accelerating, aimed directly at Shepard's skycar.
She dove, trying to clear the incoming vehicle's trajectory, and landed hard an instant before the collision sent her car tumbling overhead. A shower of glass stung her hands, face and legs, and a larger chunk of debris landed scant inches from her head. She smiled through the pain of her broken bone and the myriad smaller injuries. Emergency response would take care of everything now.
"Vakarian, who called you?" Executor Pallin demanded, clearly surprised to run into Garrus.
"No one," Garrus admitted. "Shepard's never late, but her shift started over an hour ago. Lang filled me in when I started asking after her. I came right over when I heard she was in the hospital." He didn't mention that he'd also accessed Shepard's medical chart and everything else in the C-Sec database about the incident– which wasn't much since it had happened fairly late the previous evening and nothing had been fully analyzed yet. He didn't want Pallin to think too much of his interest in Shepard's accident.
"Huh," the other turian grunted. "I guess she is your partner. Is there something to those rumors I've been hearing about the two of you?"
Garrus recoiled. How had anyone heard about him and Shepard? He coughed to clear his throat when he noticed the slowly spreading smirk of Pallin's flared mandibles. "No, Sir. We had drinks, but it didn't go anywhere."
"She's technically Alliance," Pallin casually pointed out, "not one of ours, so I don't give a damn what you do with her as long as you understand I'm not reassigning either of you if it goes poorly. She's already been posted to Patrol, Special Response, and I fought Network and E-Crimes tooth and nail to get her moved to your department, and you'd be wasted outside Investigations, Vakarian. Don't think that means I'll tolerate any distractions on the job, though. But, unless it hurts your performance, I wouldn't even bother with a notation in your file, in case you're wondering."
"It isn't like that, Sir. She's my partner and that's as far as it's going to go." Garrus turned his face away for a moment, and pointed his foot outward. This wasn't worth wasting time over, but when his superiors wanted answers, he had to give them. Maybe Pallin would finally let the topic drop.
"Fine," the other turian said, clearly unconvinced.
Why doesn't he believe it? Garrus wondered. Maybe he's got a thing for humans himself? That would explain his ridiculous fascination with human idioms, and she's attractive enough, I suppose. I should probably tell Shepard the boss might have his eye on her, and not for her talent as a detective, he thought with a sigh. It was certain to be a fun conversation.
"She's just down the hall," Pallin said with a wave, interrupting Garrus's thoughts. "Third door on the left. Tell her she's suspended until the investigation clears, but not to worry– we'll fast-track it so she can get back to work. We'll probably be done before she's fit for duty. Humans may be resilient, but they take a long time to heal."
"Wait, what do you mean? Isn't she a suspect?" Garrus demanded.
The executor's eyes narrowed, "How much did you hear, Vakarian?"
Garrus carefully kept his mandibles pulled in close. They wanted to flutter. "That the device that sent out the virus and caused the pileup was in her car and that some of her injuries didn't exactly add up. You can't tell me that's not suspicious, Sir."
"Lang told you quite a bit, didn't he? The device was in an evidence bag. It wasn't hers."
"An unsealed evidence bag with only partial information encoded to its file and no corresponding report in the database," Garrus corrected, realizing his blunder too late.
"She had just confiscated it, Vakarian," Pallin explained with false patience. "Seems like your style is rubbing off on her, unfortunately. I was hoping it would go the other way, to be honest. Anyway, she was off-duty, saw something suspicious, but the kid she decided to arrest got away from her. She managed to hang on to his bluewire bracelet, so she was going to log it."
Garrus flicked his fingers in annoyance. He wasn't buying that. Arresting someone while off-duty wasn't Shepard's style. Not at all. "So how'd it activate and deploy the virus?" he demanded.
Pallin stepped forward, reminding Garrus to whom he was speaking. Garrus, once again, turned his head to the side. It wasn't worth a confrontation. Pallin seemed placated when he spoke again, "That's a good question for E-Crimes. Now, here's one for you: why would Shepard knowingly send out a virus to a dozen skycars while she was in transit? She doesn't seem suicidal."
"I don't know. Maybe she did it accidentally, or maybe..." he trailed off, realizing he was sounding like an idiot. He'd given it some thought and the motive for causing an accident like that was baffling. There were few possibilities. Maybe she needed to draw attention away from something, or maybe she just needed an unexamined trip to the hospital. And it felt right, as far-fetched as it sounded. He was a good detective, and his instincts were usually right about this kind of thing. Still, he didn't think it was such a good idea to speculate so wildly to a superior about his politically-connected partner. "Never mind, Sir, I'm just a little shaken by the news. I should go see her."
"Hold on a minute, is there something you're not telling me, Vakarian? I thought you and the Alliance golden child were thick as thieves. Hell, until a few minutes ago, I was under the impression that you were screwing her," he said, a baiting rumble in his sub-harmonics. No, the executor definitely still believed Garrus was screwing his partner.
"Humans are just a little strange, sometimes, Sir. Shepard's no exception, but she does good work. I'm sure she'll be cleared for duty in no time."
"Right," the executor agreed, growing bored. "If she is dirty, don't let your feelings get in the way of your career, Vakarian. And don't forget to tell her about the suspension. It'll go down easier coming from you than if she hears it from me, I suspect."
"Garrus, what a surprise," Shepard said, flashing him a bright smile as she scooted herself into a more upright position on the hospital bed with surprising grace, considering the equipment she was hooked up to and the medi-gel delivery structure encasing her arm. He looked away from the injury as soon as he realized how many injection points were buried in her pale skin– it must have been a pretty bad fracture to require that much attention.
Her face showed a collection of deep violet bruises and taped cuts, and her pale gold hair was twisted into a loose knot behind her head, leaving long tendrils to hang around her face and shoulders. All things considered, she looked pretty good, but there was something odd about her. It took him a moment to realize what the difference was, but the lack of face paint– no, humans called it makeup– left her eyes and lips much lighter than normal. Barefaced, she looked younger and more innocent. Vulnerable, even. Once he realized the difference in her appearance, he was glad that the daily mask she painted over her features hid this aspect of her– it was too soft and gentle. Shepard was anything but, and the strange incongruity was disorienting.
"Hey, partner, you alright?" Shepard prompted. "You're staring."
Garrus shook his head, dismissing his wandering thoughts,"You, uh... look different without makeup. Good, but different. I think I like you better with it on. You sort of look like you'd be an easy mark this way."
"Ah. Well, thanks, I think," she said, an uneven smile pulling at her lips. "What brings you by? If you expect me to work from here, the door's that way," she said, smiling wider as she tipped her head toward the exit.
"That's not it at all, Shepard," Garrus denied, flicking his wrist to emphasize the statement and injecting a hurt tone into his sub-harmonics. "What kind of cretin wouldn't come see his partner in the hospital?" he purred, laying on the charm. Shepard seemed to like him, and that was a useful asset at the moment.
"Maybe the kind who'd just shot her down in the most merciless fashion less than forty-eight hours earlier?" she replied, somehow pulling of a simultaneous pout and smirk. Garrus wasn't sure what to make of the expression.
He shifted, a little uncomfortable at the reminder. "Yeah, have you been talking about that? Because the Executor's heard rumors, and I find that a little disturbing."
"What part bothers you?" she asked, her tone casual and cheerful. "It's not like anything happened. We just had drinks, danced a little, and fifteen minutes after you took me back to your place, you let me know that you find me physically repulsive," she said, her tone brittle and her smile fading fast. "You could have told me before I got my clothes off, you know."
He rubbed his face ruefully, "Spirits, you're impossible. You know, that's not exactly how I remember it going..."
"You'd been drinking, fuzzy memory is understandable, Vakarian," she replied in a light tone, though her features pinched in a scowl.
"Why don't we table this until you're healed up, okay? That's not why I'm here."
"Well, that sounds promising," she drawled. "I didn't realize there was anything to discuss. You'd better not be stringing me along, Vakarian," she said, a playful note in her voice as her scowl melted away.
"So what were you doing near Cerulean Star?" he asked, ignoring her flirtations.
"Looking for a good time, maybe for a fight," she answered easily without looking him in the eye. "A girl's got to do something to keep herself entertained, you know, and my last date was an absolute disaster."
He ignored the barb. It hadn't been a date. At least, when he agreed to it, he didn't know that's what it was supposed to be. "I'm surprised that's your scene, Shepard. You seem a little higher class than that. So, you went looking for a fight and instead you found an extremely tacky bluewire device loaded with some kind of virus that was meant to target the nav computer in skycars within a certain proximity. Do you chalk that up as a win?"
"Got in a fight with a bunch of rogue skycars?" she said with a shrug. "Rough sex with a stranger would have been my top choice, but I think I came out okay considering the odds. The broken arm is a bit more than I bargained for, though."
"Come on, Shepard. You might as well come clean. Pallin's suspending you until the omni-tool clears E-Crimes, and the rest of the crap you had in your car is thoroughly investigated. Including your own bluewire." He watched her closely for any sign of nervousness, but she didn't seem distressed at all by the news. Not at all. He wouldn't want someone pawing through his omni-tool, especially not internal affairs, but Shepard wasn't bothered in the least. Could she have master-minded the whole thing? Garrus wondered, feeling even more unsettled by his human partner as he considered the possibilities. How else would she be so confident about this?
Shepard rolled her eyes, "Aren't you supposed to be on my side? Garrus, this kid was sitting there bragging about how he'd just used some kind of forged credit chit to scam a bunch of local businesses out of thousands of credits. I listened to him for a bit, and it sounded plausible, so I tried to get close to him. He got grabby, so I pulled my badge and tried to arrest him. I got his 'tool tucked away and then someone hit me from behind and he bolted. I got to my car and circled the club a few times, but I couldn't spot him. Next thing I know, the bluewire's showing me some kind of chattering skull or something and oncoming traffic is hurling itself directly at me. I steered clear, but the unlucky guy behind me wasn't quite as fast. When I stopped to help, cars kept falling out of the sky. I must have hit my head again, because I don't really remember anything else. Was anyone seriously hurt?"
"Yeah. Four cars depressurized above the atmosphere envelope. Six fatalities, three in critical care, and about a dozen injuries, plus you." The news darkened her expression, but she just looked angry, not saddened in the least, and he wondered, perhaps unfairly, if she was disappointed by the body count. She had always struck him as a bit blood-thirsty and callous. If it was anyone else, he'd believe she was contemplating whether she could have prevented the deaths, but something about her had always set him on edge, and whatever it was that had that effect on him was currently working overtime. "So, by grabby, what do you mean?" he asked.
"What?" she asked, jarred from her thoughts.
"The kid," Garrus clarified. "You said he got 'grabby.'"
She sighed and shook her head, "I was out for drinks. Dressed up, you know? When I approached him, I used it. Lucky for me, he likes humans, or at least asari and I was close enough. Unlucky for him, he's an entitled little shit who thought he could get away with copping a feel just because I was talking to him."
"So that's it?" Garrus asked. "He just grabbed your ass?" Shepard gave him a disgusted look, which probably meant she thought he was being a sexist jerk, but at the moment, he didn't care.
"He couldn't get enough of my tits either, but yeah, he just grabbed my ass. Guess I was asking for it by wearing such a short skirt, huh?"
Yep, she definitely thought he was being a jerk. Garrus didn't know how to gracefully repair the damage, so he pressed on, hoping she'd allow it. "So how'd you get the gashes on your neck and shoulder, Shepard? Those look an awful lot like scratches from a turian hand. Did the guy grab you?"
Her brow furrowed. "I thought it was probably glass or something from the wreck. I haven't seen them," she said, her hand unconsciously rising to touch the bandages covering the area in question. "Was one of the emergency responders turian? That wasn't the kid and I don't remember it happening."
"They're a little deep for someone's grip slipping while they moved you onto a stretcher, and the angle's wrong," he said, knowing it actually wasn't if she'd been found lying on her side and it happened while she was being rolled over, but her reaction told him a lot, anyway. She seemed confused and possibly a little disturbed, and that told him he was probably chasing shadows. "How much did you have to drink?" he asked.
Shepard glared at him. "Not sure how to read a toxicology report, Garrus?" she said, irritation plain. "No, that's not it. I bet you're just not familiar enough with human physiology to know what the numbers mean," she added derisively.
"Excuse me?"
"You know my injuries better than I do. Which means you took a look at my medical chart before you came in here. If you're here to interrogate me, just be up-front about it."
"I'm here to make sure my partner's not going to hang herself when she's facing someone who actually cares about her answers," he lied. "Shall I assume that means you were trying to arrest someone while completely hammered?"
"Look, I know I fucked up, Garrus," Shepard snapped, the fierce expression on her face and sharp tone seeming incongruous with her gentle, youthful appearance, "but while you're investigating me, that little shit's going to ground. If he has the programming chops to cut through skycar nav encryption remotely, and replicate it to other vehicles within moments, he's a force to be reckoned with. For once, I decided to do what I imagined you would do in my position, and look how it turned out. Obviously I'm not cut out for playing fast and loose with the rules like you are, Vakarian."
She was more dedicated to following regulations than he was, and somehow that didn't seem to impair her ability to get the job done to his satisfaction, but despite her straight-laced front, she had always struck him as dangerous, reckless, and... wrong. It could just be their differing philosophies, or a culture clash, but he'd never felt like this about another human. He realized with annoyance that his mandibles were fluttering.
He put a stop to it and locked eyes with her once more, "Did you give someone a description?" Looking into her eyes reminded him of how innocent she currently looked, and his mandibles threatened to flutter again, betraying his uncertainty. She'd probably think he was nervous about talking to her. Angrily, he stilled his face, promising himself he'd never allow himself to be deceived by her appearance.
Shepard sighed and brushed a stray lock of light hair away from her face, "Yeah, of course. Turian, older juvenile– nearly adult, sharp features, a little on the short side, yellow clan markings..."
"Yellow?" he interrupted. "No one uses yellow, Shepard."
"Then he'll be easy to find," she countered, nonplussed. "Maybe he painted over his to hide his identity, or maybe he's bare-faced. Anyway, Lang took my statement. Were those real teeth on the bracelet? Some of them looked human..."
At least a few were turian molars, by the looks of them, but Garrus didn't tell her that. She was a suspect in his opinion, even if no one else thought so at this point. "I haven't seen the report, if there even is one yet, but it wouldn't surprise me. That's the kind of thing someone primed to join the Blue Suns would do."
"That's sick. I don't think I want to know how he got them," Shepard said with a frown. "Someone needs to find him."
"Well, Pallin's fast-tracking the investigation to clear you so you can get back to work, and you can help me hunt him down."
"That won't be fast enough, Garrus. Do it yourself– get him for me."
"Huh. I was thinking I'd get you flowers or something as a get well present, but I guess if you want a young turian hacker instead, who am I to argue? But I have to ask, does that mean you've got some kind of fetish?" he said, forcing a playful tone. He wasn't done with her, yet, and he wanted her off-balance.
Shepard smiled crookedly, "I think I've heard that accusation before, but usually the consensus is that I like trouble and don't know what's good for me," she stated, tilting her head as she studied him. "How about you? Got a human fetish? Because I think you're flirting with me, and that's at least half a dozen kinds of confusing given certain recent events."
He smiled at her by rolling his head and flicking his mandibles twice, knowing she was adept at reading his body language and facial expressions, which were so different from her own. "When you asked me out I thought you just wanted to have a drink and shoot the shit, and then you showed up in that sexy little black dress and tried to seduce me."
"So I just caught you off guard?" she asked, arching one golden brow. "That's why you broke my heart and made a complete fool of me?"
"Maybe."
"Suave. Good thing I'm not as tender as I look. Maybe we should try again when you get used to the idea?" she suggested.
"Maybe, Shepard," he agreed, a little unnerved that she had just voiced his own opinion of her looks. "Your doctor is salarian, right? I think I'll go make sure he knows that for all intents and purposes, you're a C-Sec detective. It looks like they're taking good care of you, but it's not worth taking any chances."
Shepard raised an eyebrow, hopefully drawing the conclusion he was leading her to. "He didn't seem so bad. Should I be worried?"
"No, because I'm going to take care of it for you, Shepard," he countered, pleased that she had been so easy to misdirect. Mostly he wanted a ready reason for questioning her doctor, but humans often got sub-par treatment from the other species on the Citadel, so it was a good excuse. In his opinion, it wasn't surprising that humans weren't anyone's favorite aliens, but the people who suffered from the Alliance's politics the most were usually completely undeserving. Maybe not Shepard, since she was Alliance, through and through, but she was hurt and she deserved quality medical care.
"My hero. Tell someone I'm starving. I think they forgot I'm a biotic."
"Sure," he agreed. Sometimes he forgot she was a biotic, too, since so few humans were. While she'd been assigned to Special Response, he was certain she used her abilities all the time, but Investigations had little use for biotics in daily operations. It was strange that in eight months, Shepard had already worked in half the departments of C-Sec, but he had to admit she had the skills to perform well anywhere she'd been placed. The different departments were practically squabbling over her, and it had little to do with her political connections– the Alliance didn't have much pull in C-Sec, after all. He realized he'd been staring at her for too long and awkwardly turned away, "I should probably get back to work. Ping me if there's anything you need, or if you remember something that might help me get that hacker for you," he said as he rose to leave.
"That'll be pretty hard with my omni-tool being ripped apart by E-Crimes, Vakarian. I think we're both on our own," she replied, shifting around to get more comfortable. "Thanks for coming by," she called, dismissing him before the half-formed promise to come check on her again found voice. He turned his head to the side and pulled his mandibles close in apology. She flicked her wrist in response, dismissing his concern. He left the room before his sense of courtesy obligated him to act as her care-taker.
Sure, she was his partner, but she wasn't really a C-Sec officer, and despite her charm and how easily she had convinced everyone else that she was beyond suspicion, he wasn't so sure. The doctor who examined her indicated that there was evidence she'd recently had sex, but according to the medical notes, when asked, Shepard denied it. She also declined to allow the physician to swab for DNA, but the doctor maintained his opinion based on a set of abrasions on her inner thighs and some bruising on her arms. Garrus suspected she might have gotten a lot friendlier with her turian hacker than she was willing to admit, and he intended to find out.
A/N: Thanks for reading, don't forget to comment. Comments are the best things ever.