-A/N- The end of the first case! This chapter is probably a bit of an info dump, and I needed to show the passage of time somehow. Enjoy!

After Garrus was done booking Quarn and Kedunne, he began his paperwork. He had spent two hours going over the datapads and filling in warrant forms when he decided to finish at home. He leant across from his desk, craning his neck to find his cerulean comrade.

"Hey Gil!" The turian's flanging voice reverberated in the empty office. "I'm gonna head out for the night. You?"

"Nah, you go on ahead, Garrus; I gotta finish this before Pallin asks for it. You know how it is."

"Just don't touch the coffee machine." Came a voice from somewhere behind the pair.

With a wry chuckle, Garrus got up and left his partner to his caffeine-free fate, leaving the gleaming white walls of the academy and stepping out into the well-lit night cycle.

While making his way home, in the plaza just out front of the academy, Garrus spotted a small gaggle of colonial tourists circling around a tour guide. They were absorbing their surroundings with awe, a mixture of fear and excitement in their eyes as they thought they were getting the real deal.

What idiots.

When most came to the Citadel, they wanted to go to places from the vids. The Presidium. The Council Chambers. But they wanted to see 'the reality' of the station too; they wanted to experience the Wards, the 'cultural heart of the galaxy'. So, they paid buckets of creds for 'escorted tours' of the Wards during their visits, where they would gawk at the endless spirit of the poor from behind their bullet-proof buses, asari wine spritzers and adrenaline coursing through their veins from standing outside a police station.

Hopping off his shuttle, Garrus elected to take a walk through Tranquillity Lane, in memory of his first arrest. As he glanced at the big houses with fancy cars and actual gardens, he felt unmoved. Thanks to his efforts, the high and mighty got to sleep soundly at night in their million-credit homes, their wooden tables and Turian art safely locked up in their hundred-thousand-credit vaults.

The fact was, and Garrus knew, the victims hadn't cared about their valuables. They'd wanted the peasants that had dared to infiltrate their ivory tower, far above the filth of rest of Zakera, captured by C-Sec, the servants of the privileged. They wanted them thrown to the dogs for daring to rise above the rest of the shit the public wallowed in.

He would've loved to have seen their faces when they realised one of their own was in on it.

Where am I? Have I been walking this whole time?

Garrus glanced around, gathering his bearings, and soon found himself looking up at a very familiar façade. The Starlight Lounge. The fusion lights and holo-patterns beckoning him closer, he decided that his filling out his reports could use a drink or two.

During the investigation, he hadn't taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the place. Elegant mood lighting, welcoming backdrop and friendly staff who, much to Garrus' delight, would happily set up a bar tab. After telling the bartender to 'surprise him', he took the chair he had sat in earlier, using the right wing's elevation to get a better view of the singer he had ogled on his last visit.

She was still so truly blue, the light capturing the contours of her body, encapsulating her very soul in a way that made her seem like a goddess. A quick glance at the crowd would've told him she had other male admirers – and they looked like regulars.

I wonder if there's a correlation there…

But her song was different this time; still in asari, but… darker. More sombre. It seemed like a song of mourning. For a few minutes he observed, captivated by how a woman's voice (of all things) could bring a room to a standstill. While others sat with baited breath and gaping mouths, he watched on in quiet admiration as the blue goddess closed out the number with a crescendo that made Garrus tingle with… Longing? Hope? Lust?

Then, his drink arrived in the hand of a chirpy human waitress with a fake smile and even faker tits. She put his drink on the table, bending down as she did so, probably trying to flirt her way to a tip. It was typical in a joint full of middle-aged men with cushy jobs and trophy wives.

Something had to ruin his evening, and the human trying to hump her way to a credit chit didn't help until he had an idea.

"Say, who was that singer up on stage just now?" Garrus inquired. A flash of rejection crossed the human's face, quickly covered by her mask of customer service as she replied, "That's Elsa Contari, the owner's daughter. Real talented." Garrus didn't have to be a detective to notice the envy in her tone.

"Really? Thanks for the information. Here's a tip."

The waitress' smile grew larger. "Thank you, sir. Enjoy your Thessian sunset!" She finished, as she turned and paced away, muttering, "the blue bitch" as she went.

"A wha…" He replied, just too late. He looked down at his drink. In haste to sit down he must've ordered some… purple cocktail with an umbrella.

The trophy wives must come here too.

He pulled the concoction up to his mouth, and cautiously took a sip.

The last thing Garrus remembered was that it tasted like Tupari.

The next few months went by slowly, with Garrus and Gil closing more and more cases. After Quarn had been shut down, other scum had tried to fit into the idiot-shaped hole in mass burglaries. None of them were as subtle as Quarn, usually cracking a window and running with some art. As his clearance rate increased, so did his reputation, a few calling him 'Garrus', instead of 'Vakarian'. It was a small step, but it had meant a lot.

The biggest benefit to burglary was that all the victims lived near The Starlight, giving him more time to drool at Elsa, probably conjuring some delusion where she picks him out of the crowd. It was pathetic really, him gazing across the stage, as if she were some kind of princess.

He had also begun to notice Pallin watching him at the academy, following him closely. Too closely. He was following Garrus like a fox would a stray deer.

When the Executor came to him, chest puffed out in arrogance, he didn't know what to expect. He'd just shut down some human fool named Arnett, and he was riding high. Until then.

"Vakarian," Pallin started, earning a glare from the detective, "you may not have noticed, but for the past few weeks, I have been keeping a close eye on you."

Garrus rolled his eyes. "Really?" He muttered sardonically.

"Yes. And I have come to the conclusion that you're not cut out for burglary."

Garrus froze, as his mandibles widened in shock. Why should he be fired? He was nowhere near as bad as people like Gavorn. "Why? I have the third highest clearance rate in the depart-"

"You will be reassigned to robbery."

"ROBBERY!?" He replied, incredulous at the decision.

"Of course. You can handle a gun, can't you Vakarian? Then this should be no problem. Report to Detective McCauley in the morning."

As the Executor turned and walked away, Garrus found he could only shake his head.

Great The heroics squad. Just what I need.

-A/N- Movin' on up! Garrus is now on the robbery squad. As his experiences with crime change, so will his outlook, personality and habits; so if you think this Garrus isn't bleak enough for noir, keep in mind that this is just the beginning.