AN: Hello, all. Just a small intro chapter for you.

It was once stated, by an asari diplomat, that the turian homeworld of Palaven was a silver world of fortresses and fire. Poetic, some called it — but turians such as former C-Sec operative Garrus Vakarian weren't so keen to agree. Palaven had no time for sentiment. The turian peoples were strong and solid, raised to follow orders as well as make them. Their homeworld wasn't like Thessia or Earth or even Sur'Kesh. It was a single fortress in its own right, with tough militaristic culture ingrained to the terrain as well as the inhabitants.

Garrus was reminded of this everyday aboard the Normandy. His differences. His dissimilar upbringing to the rest of the crew. Growing up, his father had one mantra: Do things right or don't do them at all. It was clean, simple, solid. It was turian to the very core. It was the sole reason Garrus had pledged his sniper rifle to team Normandy in their pursuit for rogue spectre Sarren and their subsequent battle against the Collectors.

In some ways, he found purpose amongst these allies; a reason to fight.

One reason, in particular.

Garrus fixed his attention to the door, moments after it was rendered open. The main battery was his oasis aboard the vessel. Few crew members had pass to disturb his peace, and Commander Shepard was amongst them. Right on top, as a matter of fact.

"Commander," he acknowledged, taking note of her scratched N7 armour and most noticeably, the gash along her left cheekbone. "You're bleeding."

Shepard entered the room and had a seat on the bench to his left. "I'll survive," she answered, wiping the crimson from her cheek without so much as flinching. "The mission on Thessia was…something. Kai Leng was there."

The turian wore a knowing look. "Bring me along next time. I'll plant a bullet between his eyes."

"I don't doubt that," she offered. "…but I'm not here to discuss the Illusive Man's new puppet."

"Oh?"

Shepard unlatched her upgraded N7 chest-plate armour to reveal a bloodied under shirt, along with something Garrus did not expect. She noticed his curious gaze and glanced down, amused. "Never seen a tattoo before?"

Garrus opened his mouth and then closed it. "Um — I have. I just — I didn't —"

The commander laughed. "Relax, Vakarian. I'm teasing."

If it were possible for turians to blush, he surely would have. Not unusual for his interactions with Shepard.

"I know that flag," he then realized, recognizing the symbol etched into her olive skin. "Mindoir. Your home planet."

The smile vanished from her lips and she retreated to a place of remorse — distant and unyielding. "I had the tattoo done a couple weeks after the batarian invasion, as a reminder. Never forget. Never forgive."

"Those are some tough words to live by," he remarked. "You sure you don't have any turian in you?"

Shepard cocked an eyebrow at him, suspicious. "Careful, Vakarian. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was an invitation."

For a moment, he was confused. It was only twenty-something years ago that the human race had joined citadel space. Most earthen customs and sayings were still lost on him.

Finally, he realized.

Garrus cleared his throat and turned back to the console. "I — I have some work to do."

"I was kid —"

"Perhaps Doctor Chakwas can see to your injuries," he interjected.

"Garrus, I —"

But he was already mid-way through some more calibrations. "I'll talk to you another time, Commander."

AN: How was it?