Garrus' POV throughout the Mass Effect Trilogy. This is going to be a long story; it will follow canon as best as I can manage and will have a lot of backstory that's new and unfamiliar. I will try to do this wonderful character justice as he deserves it. I own nothing of his concept or any other concept that is familiar and recognizable from the games and the brilliant creators that have brought this world to us. I own nothing but the add-ins and ons of story that I interject within their timeline. I hope you enjoy – and I hope I make all of you proud.

-CM

A snippet from the end before we begin:

"I have this thought in my head that…" his voice thins out at the end as he breathes into the cool room. His body was tense against the soft stillness, the safety of the cabin as he pushed forward, "…I sometimes wish she never had come back." Acid. The admission, the betrayal, the dead hope dripping with absolute lies. How could his brain come up with such a thing? How could he sit here in the presence of his two closest friends and speak the angry admission to them? He could feel them burn bright and heated beside him, both bristling at the words he had said, both willing to counter – to argue – but he shook his head and fell forward, his elbows to his knees as his face fell into his hands, choking out the bile of feelings that hung on the very words he had spoken: "I hate myself for that thought, of all the unimaginable things my brain and heart and whatever it all means – that's the worst thing, the most…deplorable. I…" a low shift fell from his sub vocals. It was deep and sharp and breaking the atmosphere with its dreadful whine. He swallowed behind the vibration, trying to calm it – to ease it.

A cold, unimaginably cold, hand came to pull at his wrist. It was as delicate as it was strong and had it not been for the coolness of it, he would not have even felt it. Gray-blue eyes opened and looked to the vibrant blue of his friend. She had a hard angle to her now, where she had once been innocent and soft and young. Her eyes were half lidded, her mouth set in a grim line and her brow was pulled in a way that made him feel like a child. "She deserved to come back," the asari spoke to him. It was a truth, a hum of an admonishment towards his statement, but not unkind. "Your grief," she slowed and waited as he shifted, trying hard to disengage the gaze that the both of them held. It was too intimate, too foreign to the turian, and yet all too familiar. But she pressed onward, "Your grief is a beautiful thing, Garrus," his mandibles clicked tight against his cheeks, how? How was any of this beautiful? "Do not let it put a dark shadow on the time we had with her, the…gift…that had been given to us…." She shook her head, and her hand pulled his three-taloned hand towards her until she clasped both of her own around it. "…that had been given to you." She emphasized.

Chapter One: Dismissed

The data pads laid out across his desk, and he frowned at them. He had spent months tracing every lead, finding every clue, pulling out all the cards to bring to light a truth he knew deep down inside. It was as simple as it was. Saren, the Spectre, the untouchable, was dirty. He was worse than dirty; he was manipulating the council and everyone that trusted him as one of the elites of the council races.

As one of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agents, entrusted with the near limitless authority by the Council themselves, Saren Arterius should be the peak of Turian form. He had the power to wield justice in his hands and delve out punishment if need be. The power to save, protect and serve in all ways that lowly C-Sec officers couldn't.

And yet, Garrus knew deep down in his gut that he was a disgrace. A rotten being. Dirty. He was a dangerous figure that was becoming a shadow of what he should be standing for. Being a Spectre was not just a title, it was a way of life. Had he been a braver Turian, he told himself, perhaps wiser – he never would have dropped out of the program of possible recruitments. Had he stood up to his father, his damned Vakarian name, things would have been different – the entire thing was all politics and personal feelings. Garrus knew he shouldn't have let it cloud his judgement or his path. He would have been a damned good Spectre. A far better one than Saren anyway. The traitor.

Garrus growled inwardly as he tossed another data pad he had been looking over onto the desk. It skidded and came to rest with the others, he glared annoyed at them. The majority of them leads that had gone nowhere. Bits and pieces of evidence that should have added up to something, but always ended up as a dead end. He frowned, he was so damned close – so close, or maybe he was a million light years away. It didn't matter. He would not give up.

Call it a way of his brood. The Turian were tenacious. They were predators that hunted. It was in their core biology. They were orderly, poised, disciplined, protective and tenacious. Among so many other intimate things, reserved for friends and family. More often times just family. No, Garrus would not give up his hunt. That's what this was, after all. A hunt. For the truth, for vindication, for something. He wasn't sure, at this point, if he needed to prove his instincts were right to serve a greater purpose for the good of all. To save the council from being used and put in danger, for keeping the Turian lines clean of traitorous deeds – or more embarrassingly – to prove himself right. To have personal satisfaction after months and months of being proven wrong. It was becoming personal. Pft. It already was.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by an orange glow from his omnitool. He glared at it, annoyed. Being a part of C-Sec should have come to ease his need for justice. Policing was in his blood. He followed a long line of veteran officers that had both served in the military and offered their service to the citadel. His own military background was lined with medals and stories he rarely spoke of. Never – spoke of.

He clicked the accept code and the video popped into life. Officer Bailey's face appeared, and he looked into the void as he spoke immediately, "Vakarian," he greeted, the two had been partners once before the higher-ups sent most of the humans to guard the Presidium instead of doing any true police work. It had been a devastating blow to the older human, one who had shared his long career with him over the year they had worked together. He had a family that he had chosen to be near instead of continuing his Navy career for the Alliance, it was a strange concept for Garrus as most Turian served life-long careers and rarely had to choose between life at home and life under the command. Stark differences in species came and went between the two, but one thing he found was the trust that followed it. Armando-Owen Bailey was one of the few humans that Garrus considered a friend.

"Bailey," he grunted in return.

"Figured you'd want to know," the human said quickly, looking over his shoulder, "…the council is meeting up with Captain Anderson and Representative Udina about Saren."

Saren? His brow plates moved slightly in confusion. Why would the humans need to meet with the council over him? "What for?"

"The buzz is they have proof he's dirty," Bailey seemed to be whispering, he could only guess that he was at his post and had to wait to speak. "His XO found proof, she's been called as witness – they're all heading up to the Towers now."

Garrus nodded once and hung up. He looked around his small apartment and debated for only half a second before turning at a heel and taking his leave. He needed to be there. It was a drawn conclusion after months of rummaging through bullshit and muck. If the humans took down Saren – as hard as it would be to not be the one behind the wheel here – he still wanted to help. To witness it. To be proven right. Even if it were by the hands of the newest species at the Citadel. As the ancient station built long before their time was concerned - new species were not new at all.

Truth was, Garrus hadn't had a lot of thoughts on the humans. The few that he came across were soldiers like him. They seemed competent enough, most too soft or weary of the other beings around them. He suppose his own species were a part of their hesitancy. They had not done well upon first contact and the First Contact War had been the result. There has been slaughter. Actual slaughter of human spacers and colonist by hands of Turians he knew personally. Older in generation, but none-the-less still alive and breathing while millions of humans had been decimated by the superior strength of his brood. It didn't last long, the war – not by war standards, but the aftermath was still raw and healing. He doubted that it would be completely scarred in his lifetime, but with the few humans he had associated with, he hoped that in a few hundred years or so the two forces would be unstoppable allies. They had it in them, if they allowed it.

His train of thought ended as he stolled into the Tower. Gray-blue eyes lifted to take in the massive interior as he set up the steps two at a time. It never ceased to amaze him how they had gotten the flora in there. Large trees with brilliant delicate pink flowers hung out over pathways, dim lighting gave an erethral effect as green shrubbery aligned each level with a zen-like appeal. There were three levels to the Council Level of the Tower, each with its own expanse of floor that tapered off on the endges into corridors hidden beneathe stairs and over hangs of balconies. It seemed almost too calm to him. As most matters of galactal importance were decided within these halls - it just didnt feel stark and imposing enough.

That may just be the Turian in him talking.

The council chambers was already active, indicative that he was already late. He rushed, nearly ran and when he spotted Executor Pallin he lifted his hand and called out, "Pallin!" He grimanced at the informality that echoed up through the level of the tower he had just come to stand on. "Executor," he corrected and came to a stop before the man. He was older than Garrus by fifteen years, but the two had served together once. Had Garrus served with so many? He frowned at the intrusive thought before boiling over and continuing, "Has the Council made any decision on Saren?"

Executor Pallin, to his credit, only stiffened at the question. He was annoyed at his young officer and has all but demanded him to stop with the claims of treason towards the Spectre. However, due to the very nature of their understanding of one another, he allowed Vakarian to keep a personal interest in his claims. Nothing had come up. Not a damned thing had been proven, still the accusations were vivid in the younger officer's eyes. "They have just started, the Alliance have not shown up yet," he squared his shoulders, "I doubt that there will be any sufficient evidence here, Officer Vakarian, you need not worry yourself over these preceedings." It was a clear order if one was Turian.

You do not belong here, this isn't your responsibility. Leave.

Garrus' bristled at the intention behind the words and bit out through flared mandibles, "Saren's hiding something, give me more time – stall them!"

"Stall the Council?" Don't be ridiculous," the Executor stated matter-of-factly, finally there was a line of precise decision behind the man's yellow eyes. "Your investigation is over, Garrus." With a firm wave of his hand he turned and walked away leaving Garrus to glare at his retreating back.

Over? A steeley retort followed the words of his commanding officer, but they were swallowed painfully when he noticed a group of people to his right. Turning his gaze to them, his ire evident. It was odd to see three humans completely decked out in full armor in the Towers. He looked to the man at the far left, the woman at the far right and then looked to the lead. It was red fringe against pale skin that he noticed first before he shifted his body towards the three of them and addressed her, "Commander Shepard?"

Coming to a full stop in front of the trio he continued, "Garrus Vakarian, I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren."

As way of an introduction, he figured that would have to do.

She raised a brow at him, "Who were you just talking to?"

"That was Executor Pallin, Head of Citadel Security, my boss –"he answered immediately, unsure as to why he felt the immediate need to explain his entire investigation to this frail being in front of him. "He'll be presenting my findings on Saren to the council."

She nodded, her stance shifting slightly, a small step in his direction, didn't even move an inch, but the movement was not lost to him. "Sounds like you really want to bring him down."

More than you know. He wanted to say to her. The words slammed into his mind and his shoulders sagged. He looked her dead in the eyes, the green that filled his vision was vibrant and …Earthly…"I don't trust him," he would say, "Something about him rubs me the wrong way, but he's a Spectre," he said the word with disdain for the first time. He shook his head, "Everything he touches is classified, I can't find any hard evidence."

He took a small step towards her. Searching her features for ..understanding. She would know the depth of this. It was why she was here. He wanted to ask so many questions. What did she know? What were the humans bringing forth that he hadn't been able to find?

"I think the Council is ready for us, Commander," the man to her right said. Garrus looked up to the dark haired human and felt his brow pull and shift in annoyance before turning back to the Commander.

"Good luck, Shepard," he said softly, but not personally, "Maybe they'll listen to you."

She gave him a small smile. It wasn't intimate, but it was kind. He tilted his head and watched her lead the pack up the last stairwell and disappear beyond the platform. He had been dismissed. His stake in all this was over. He frowned at the realization. Over? He growled in his throat. It made no sense to him that he would be done with this. Not now, not when others were beginning to follow through with his original instincts. Saren was dirty. Saren was a traitor. He was a damned traitor.

Garrus wasn't about to stop now. Orders be damned. He pulled up his omnitool and scanned through the last bit of information that had crossed his path in connection to Saren. It was a slim lead. Not even a lead really. A pebble of information, a possibility of something. And something was not nothing. With one last grunt of approval of his own resolve, he looked up to the Council's floor as he heard the familiar voice of Shepard, "You can't hide behind the council forever!"

He almost barked in appreciation of the disgust and accusation in her tone. It bounced off the ceilings, the walls, the people. It was a clear affirmation that for once, in all the long months of this hunt of his, he was not alone. Someone else – even if it was a small speck of a woman – was in his corner. Garrus stood straighter and nodded. Alright, he needed evidence. Shepard needed evidence now too.

The Medical Bay was close to the Academy. It made sense to have the medical facilities so close to the C-Sec Headquarters as most often times one of his fellow officers needed some medical attendance before going home. It wasn't easy being one of the good guys. His knowledge of the Citadel layout was unmatched by anyone besides, perhaps the Keepers. But who could know more than the strange green-four legged squatting aliens? They had been here when the Asari had discovered the Citadel in floating in the system. Maintaining the station and all its secrets.

Though he was no Keeper, he had walked every single passage and crawled through every hidden duct time and time again. In the mornings, in the afternoons – during the night. It was his job as one of its protectors to know it. To be able to find its troubles and fix them. He had sworn an oath to this floating city. And it was a city. The station was large and elite. It housed millions of souls of all species and kinds. It was the center of galactic life of the galaxy they all called home. It would have been negligence on his part had he not obtained the blueprints, had not discovered and explored – had not found comfort in the process of figuring out his station. His home away from Palaven.

Palaven was a touchy subject in his mind. His home planet always made him feel uneasy when he thought about it. He had left a life there. A promise of returning that had been broken. His mother and sister had never understood, but his father had a grunt of an understanding when he had chosen to stay on the Citadel versus returning home to find a life of…what? What kind of life could a soldier find there? Desks and reputational duties to uphold. Marriage and bonding and children. He had never wanted that kind of life. He had never wanted to just exist. He wanted to matter to something greater than that. It was what drove him to raise in the ranks of the Hierarchy, what made him fight along side his brothers and sisters and what had compelled him to use his training to better prepare the C-Sec officers and recruits that had been placed with and under his command. No, Palaven was his homeworld, but it was not his home.

The Citadel didn't quite feel like home either though. There was an emptiness he always found there. He was proud of his life, what he had chosen to do, but there was so much he couldn't do. So many things he had to force, to beg, to negotiate. He hated the strict rules and red tape and all the regulations that mattered, but really were just a form of control. It was so obvious – as someone who implemented to the rules – that there were just too many rules. Too many restrictions. Too much life unlivable because someone somewhere thought it a bad idea.

It was why him explicitly ignoring Pallin's order wasn't something he mulled too much over. Why he found himself walking into the med bay just in time to see the backs of two men but hearing the footfalls of five. He had tasted the fear on his tongue before the doors even shut behind him. The scraping of a gurney ahead of him muting the sound of the door behind him. What luck! He knew it was as his knees bent and he curled low against the half wall between him and the scene before him.

"I didn't tell anyone I swear!" The words left the doctor in a cry of absolute terror, her accent heavy and caressing each word in a song of fear that had his chest tighten under his security uniform. He had to figure out a way to get her out of there. Five against one. One civilian. The odds were – he closed his eyes.

"That was smart, doc," the thug smirked, "Now if Garrus comes around you stay smart, keep your mouth shut –" his sentence trailed off and the sound of a quick gasp from the doctor and the quick movement of feet brought Garrus' attention back to the door he had entered from. "Who are you?!" the thug asked the trio that walked into the room, all guns raising to meet each other.

"Let her go!" Shepard's voice was commanding. The strength of it was something he could appreciate even as his body moved and he rounded the corner – pistol primed, aim immediate and trigger released. The bullet hit its target without hesitation, the blood splattering onto the doctor's neck as the thug's body slowly released its hold and slid down her backside.

She stuttered and stepped away, more like threw herself towards the gurneys and burying her head under her hands. With her out of the way, he shifted stance, aiming his gun at the rest of the group, a brief second of indecisiveness hit him on what to do next, but before he could choose, he heard the shots, the feminine commands again as the trio of humans came to his aide. He took out the one closest to him but decided then to move to protect the doctor. She was curled and he curled around her. A gentle taloned hand rested on her shoulder blades as the three humans quickly took care of the thugs.

"I think we're good, Commander," the dark-haired man would say as his boot came to shift one of the thugs on the ground. It was an 'all clear' kind of statement that brought the Commander towards him, shouldering her gun and glaring at him with fierce eyes and a disapproving thinning of her lips.

"Perfect timing Shepard," he would say as he holstered his own pistol, "Gave me clear shot of that bastard."

Shepard shook her head, "What were you thinking? You could have hit the hostage!"

It was a cold splash of water against his adrenaline humming skin. Her hard glare was enough to have his mandibles twitch as he gritted out, "There wasn't time to think, I just reacted…" her eyes bore into him and he turned his gaze away, "I didn't mean to –"he looked at the Doctor still crouched, "Dr. Michel? Are you hurt?" He reached down to help her stand. Reality finally setting in that he had been hasty in his decision, but not wrong in it.

"No I am okay, thanks to you…" she raised her hand to the back of her head, bringing it down to look at the blood there. She was a medical professional, blood wouldn't make her sick to her stomach, but he knew that it was not the same. Her skin paled under her eyes as she looked up and towards Shepard, "...all of you."

Shepard didn't miss a beat, "I know those men threatened you," another small shift of her gait inward towards the conversation. Garrus noticed her hand lift as if she wanted to reach out to the woman, but with a flex in her fingers she refrained. "But if you tell us who they work for, we can protect you."

Michel immediately spoke the truth, "They work for Fist, they wanted to shut me up, keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian." Her eyes looked towards him then, set to explain everything to him. It was not the first time he had been here and in her presence. The doctor had patched him up more times than he could count, but they had never become friendly.

In that moment, he would have to change that.

He realized the blood slowly trailing down her neck and she stood powerful against what had just happened to her. Bodies lying all around them, dead, where most often times this room was a place of healing. He had brought this to her door – he frowned slowly at the thought before reaching onto the table behind her for what looked like a towel and handed it to her, she grimaced at the implication, but obliged to dab her neck.

"What quarian?"

"A few days ago, a quarian came by my office," she looked at the towel in her hands and continued, "she had been shot, but she wouldn't tell me who did it. I could tell she was scared, probably on the run…" Michel threw the towel down on the bed beside her, "She asked me about the Shadowbroker, she wanted to exchange information for a safe place to hide."

"Where is she now?"

"I…" she looked at Garrus sideways before continuing, "..put her in contact with Fist, he's an agent for the Shadowbroker."

Garrus finally spoke, looking to Shepard, "Not anymore – now he works for Saren and the Shadowbroker isn't too happy about it."

"Fist betrayed the Shadowbroker?" The doctor asked in a shocked airy voice, "That's stupid even for him – Saren must have made him quite the offer…"

"That quarian must have something Saren wants," he said and looked Shepard in the eyes, brokering no shift in attention other than her own, "something worth crossing the Shadowbroker to get."

The Commander stood silent for a long second. Her gaze shifting from his to the Doctor, "She must have something that proves he's a traitor, did the quarian mention anything about Saren, or the Geth?"

The Doctor nodded, "She did! The information she was going to trade said it had something to do with the Geth."

Garrus frowned, "She must be able to link Saren to the Geth!" His eyes widened in realization, "There is no way the council can ignore this!"

"Time we paid Fist a visit," Shepard said in agreeance with him, but not so quick to decide on taking it to the Council just yet.

The two behind her looked towards each other and nodded in agreeance with her. They hadn't spoken a word this entire time and he appreciated the strictness of it. This was military at its finest. He looked to her and suddenly he had to say it, he had to make sure there was no other way around it. Garrus stepped to her, it was a move that brought him into her personal space and she had to lift her chin to bring her gaze to keep his. He was still an arm's length from her, but close enough that the touch was available had he lifted his arm to do so. Garrus felt the female soldier to the left lift her gun from its resting at her hips, her fingers tightening around the weapon as a show of clear attentiveness to his move.

He both appreciated the act and dismissed it as he spoke, "This is your show, Shepard," he paused and felt his mandibles shift in an attempt to express the deep need he felt, another Turian would understand without words, but these were humans in front of him. They had to hear them, "But I want to bring Saren down as much as you do. I'm coming with you."

There it was. The demand. The truth. The invitation into her unit without the explicit right or consent from her.

To her credit, she didn't bristle or concern herself with the demand, instead she asked a question he suppose she had the right to ask. Even if it meant little to him. "You're a Turian, why do you want to bring him down?"

The effects of the First Contact War were everywhere. Including this moment. Hidden in those bright green eyes of hers as she studied him under furrowed brows. He didn't know if this was a moment of importance or not. It felt like it. Heavy and weighted. What it meant was lost to him, but he felt it there – humming in the air around them, with the dead at their feet and the clear path before them. "I couldn't find the proof that I needed in my investigation, but I knew what was really going on. Saren is a traitor to the council and a disgrace to my people," his subvocals vibrated the words coming from him. The sound of them coming staticy in the translators that they all wore and he took a breath to try and calm himself. He knew that the Turian had a way of seeming threatening to the new species when they were just being emotionally charged. They came off as growling or hissing when really they were just being overwhelmed by the stubborn lack of control in their flared emotions.

Shepard's eyes darted from his left to his right before dipping down to take him in and he felt open. Raw. As if she was seeing him through his armor, through his plated skin and into the very core of him. It was unnerving and it was quick. A hair's breath of a moment before she nodded and simply stated, "Welcome aboard, Garrus."

The slight shift in stance of the two humans behind her was not lost to him, but he didn't care. She has agreed. She had decided it was them against Saren and he found himself immediately grateful for the inclusion, but the feelings were pushed aside and he stepped back out of their closer proximity. The air felt lighter in that step then it ever had and later, when he was alone, he may think on it.

"You know, we aren't the only ones looking for Fist. The Shadowbroker hired a Krogan bounty hunter named Wrex to take him out." A little fact he knew through his copious channels of intel.

"Yeah," a female voice snapped into the conversation and Garrus looked towards the female behind Shepard, "We saw him in the bar."

"A krogan might come in handy," Shepard said matter-of-factly before looking towards the female and back to him.

"Last I heard, he was at the C-Sec Academy…" Garrus was cut off by the other soldier behind Shepard. It was clear that since she had agreed to have him on the team, they had a little less restraint about their opinions or his presence. Interesting.

"What's he doing there?"

"Fist accused him of making threats," Garrus answered easily, "We brought Wrex in for a little talk. If you hurry – you can catch him at the Academy before he leaves."

Shepard nodded, shifting from her relaxed stance to one of determined obligation, "Move out," she said, and the three humans made their way towards the exit. Garrus watched them leave as they did so before looking towards Doctor Michel and sighing softly at the emptiness around them.

"I'll send the coroners to your office, Michel," he reached towards her, and she allowed the gentle brush of his touch on her elbow, "Are you okay?"

There was a quiet question in her eyes as she lifted them to meet his. He had never inquired about her before and had never been so informal as to touch her. Instead of shying away from the exchange, she seemed to be okay with the intimate question, "I am – glad –" she would say gently and place a gloved five-digit hand on his forearm before he dropped his grip and she stepped away. "I hope the Commander reaches the quarian in time, she is quite young, and she is so scared."

"She will," he said so quickly and so matter-of-factly that he surprised not only her but himself. Deep inside, somewhere ancient and wise within him told him this fact. Commander Shepard would not fail. His gaze left her's and went to the empty doorway where the three Alliance officers had departed. No, Commander Shepard would most definitely not fail.

AN: wanted to mention that I know I have two other stories on this site and have not posted any continuation on them. I do not know if I will, but if I do - I will mention it in these footnotes. They are not Mass Effect driven, but they are none-the-less still stories I enjoyed writing. - CM