Holy shit, I'm back. A new year, a new resolve for being responsible with my…responsibilities? I'm sure you've all heard that one before. Thanks a lot for your patience, my dear followers. I hope you all like dialogue, because this chapter is full of it. As I mentioned before, a lot is changing – and I will do my best to make sure you readers do not get bored of my story! I know it's the same characters and it can get a bit repetitive depending on how many ME fics you read, but I've got a few plot twists up my sleeve… next chapter will be up this weekend and full of that rated M stuff you all love. Let me know what you think!

.vVv.

Garrus's muscles ached and the whole of his body longed for nothing more than a warm bed, and a lover by his side. Over sounds of muffled gunfire, his thoughts brought him back to the previous night of sweet, interspecies love making with a certain commander who fit the bill perfectly. It was probably why he was so exhausted today. His shots were sloppy, and he was the exact opposite of "ready" for a suicide fight against a rogue Spectre and his army.

He leaned out from his cover and fired away at an unsuspecting husk. Miss.

"Wait, what?" He asked no one in particular as he watched the malformed body contort and crawl away from him, regrouping with other misshapen beings. Was this the universe's way of punishing him for taking part in a rather savory activity instead of sleeping? To his dismay, he wasn't the only one who noticed his faulty shots.

"Garrus, that was sloppy! I didn't mess you up for the long run, did I?" A sly smile spread across the dirt-caked face of a lone commando woman. He had just enough time to notice how frayed her bangs had become in the fight before she plummeted herself into 3 husks, biotically launching bodies in all directions.

She's definitely the craziest woman I've ever met.

A grin found its way onto Garrus's face, twitching his mandibles outward. He reached his hand into the pack he had lying next to him, pulling out two dark green rectangular cartridges. Their combined weight was reassuringly heavy. He simultaneously pulled off two slatted metal fittings on their top sides, exposing knotted wiring underneath. Pulling and untangling, Garrus wrapped two bullets in the wiring for each respective cartridge.

"What's this?" The woman from earlier reappeared next to him, craning her neck around his shoulder in curiosity. Garrus looked exasperatedly at her peering face.

"Don't you have a battle to fight, Shepard?" She grinned wickedly and grabbed a grenade off of her utility belt. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled the pin with her teeth, and threw the bomb over her shoulder. A few seconds later, the explosion resounded through the large room, rocking and shaking the floor and walls all around them. Garrus laughed heartily and turned slightly towards his companion, showing off his handy work.

"I've turned these claymores into makeshift grenades, rigged to go off with a large bang of extra hot shrapnel when they hit the ground after a good toss. These are Tungsten rounds that I put in here." He paused to point at what he was describing. "The metal in the rounds react in an interesting way with the wiring, causing a much less controlled explosion. Don't ask me how or why it works; it just does. A good friend showed me this a while back in basic training."

When Shepard nodded her satisfaction, Garrus lifted himself over their cover and launched one of the claymores as far as he could. Shepard excitedly joined him, waiting for the resulting explosion from his modified bomb. Husk limbs flew up in the air, and when Garrus looked back down at her, he smiled at how peaceful he felt amidst all the chaos.

.vVv.

Night time in the Vakarian household was the epitome of pain. Children screaming, objects being thrown across the room…

Oh. It was actually just one young Turian child, with the screeching voice of a thousand banshees and the throwing strength of a major league pitcher. Garrus chuckled quietly to himself as he remembered the peculiar Earth sport that had been thoroughly described to him a while back. He had listened carefully at first, but became distracted by the storyteller's wonderfully plump lips, the slightest hint of wrinkles that appeared in the corners of her eyes when she smiled, the waving of her arms when she found out he wasn't listening-

He winced as a small hand snapped him out of his memories with a yank of his fringe. The Turian woman next to him gasped and grabbed her angry child and held him at eye level. With a cool voice, she calmly reprimanded the baby.

"Sweets, if you don't stop crying, I will give you a very good reason to cry about. Leave Uncle Garrus alone and get under the covers." As if by pure magic, the demon baby obeyed, but not without eyeing the fringe he had just had once more. Garrus shivered and carefully patted the baby's forehead before rushing out of the room.

"Just what is wrong with you, Garrus? You act like he's going to eat you alive or something." Watching the woman leave the room without a child tailing behind her, he relaxed and slumped into one of the chairs in the living area.

"You know I don't like people touching my fringe."

"and the exception is…?"

"Solana, I'm fine with a lover doing what she will with sweet touches. But children aren't in tune with the same level of care."

Solana sat in a chair opposite of Garrus, rubbing her mandible in thought. "Right, because children definitely 'accidentally' hurt you out of malice."

A scoff rumbled in Garrus's throat as he leaned his head into the backing of the chair. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of people he missed and battles he'd won. It was odd to be remembering all of this tonight, when he had other things that he needed to attend to.

Solana reached for her glass on the table and sat back into the chair once more, sipping at the cup's contents. She watched the man in front of her, and narrowed her eyes upon noticing his detached demeanor.

"Alright, why did you really come to visit." She stated, showing her suspicion through the lack of inflection with her inquiry. Garrus sighed and looked at her, nonchalantly studying the woman's face, realizing that she was serious, and that he needed to come clean.

"I came here to talk to dad. The Saren threat is over, and I would like to get back to focusing on what's important for a Turian."

Confusion met Solana's features. "What's important for a Turian, huh? Since when did you ever care about that? Did something happen?"

"No, I just…feel like I need to make amends with my family. Dad was very upset that I left C-Sec so quickly, on such a crazy whim of an idea – to save the galaxy. They want me to come back anyway, so I might as well try to fix things between dad and I." He rubbed and scratched his fringe nervously, averting his eyes from Solana's intense gaze. She could read him like a book, and he almost wished he hadn't come back.

"Look, Garrus. I'm your sister and I know you better than you think I do. You haven't spoken to us in a very long time. What makes you think Dad is ready for something like this? You really hurt him, you know."

"He hurt me by not supporting what I did. But you don't see me crying about it." Mandibles slapped shut against Garrus's mouth when he realized what he had just said. He shifted uneasily in his seat, adjusting the slip cover underneath him. When he looked back at his sister, she was staring at him with a fire in her eyes. He knew he had gone a bit too far, but what did she know? Hell, if she was anything like her brother, she would have done the same thing Garrus did if she were in the position. Saving the Galaxy was a hell of a job, and when someone asks you to do it, it isn't something that can simply be turned down. What would it have said about his character if he told Shepard that he didn't have the time to continue his investigation simply because the Executor told him it wasn't allowed? If anything, someone telling him he couldn't do something sparked the rebellious nature in him and pushed him to shoot for the impossible. Garrus shook away his mental monologue and brought himself back.

The encounter that he would inevitably have with his father would not be about why he left in such a rush, but rather why he decided to come back.

"So? Why did you decide to come back? And don't give me any of this 'I want to be a better Turian' bullshit. Like I said, I know you a lot better than you think; and I happen to know that you aren't concerned about becoming a better member of our species." Solana tapped her sharpened talons on the arm of the chair, directing Garrus's subconscious to wonder about how she kept her talons so sharp around her young child. He watched them snap a few times impatiently to grab his attention once more.

"I uhh… I might have something else that I need to talk to him about; but don't get me wrong, I still want to fix things." He once again shifted uncomfortably in his chair, becoming painfully aware of Solana's eyes drilling holes into his once stoic mask. He felt just as he had when he was a young Turian teenager, stepping up to the podium to accept his graduate reward and entrance into the life of a C-Sec officer. The only difference was that he had a reason to be ridiculously nervous at that time since there were hundreds of people in the crowd watching him. But here he was, in front of one person who was taking her time in studying him; letting him know with her silence that she knew everything.

Before he could continue his thoughts of jumping out the window quickly to escape this hellish torture, he heard the silent observer speak the words that he never thought he would hear from any other mouth than his own.

"You love Shepard, don't you?" A smirk made its way onto her thin, plated face in the form of outstretched mandibles as she watched her brother shrink down in his seat, defeated. She continued without hesitation to allow him the opportunity to regain his composure.

"I mean, it isn't news to me. I've been trying to figure out for quite some time who exactly it was that you had devoted your heart to. In fact, I tried to even look you up in C-Sec databases to see if they had that kind of personal information on your file."

Garrus gaped at her incredulously.

"You can't blame me, Garrus. I wasn't satisfied with the answer of 'he left because he needed to help stop a rogue Spectre' when I asked dad about his fight with you. I knew there had to be some other reason…and it looks like I was spot on with that one." She swirled the liquid in her glass before taking the final gulp.

As if fate decided to grant mercy on his soul, Garrus almost jumped at the short beeps of his visor. He had just received a message, and he clicked his mandibles with excitement. It was most likely from the very woman they were talking about, but her interruption was welcomed with open arms. Garrus held up a finger to his interrogator while he pulled up the display of his omnitool.

Solana watched with curiosity at the spectrum of expressions that washed over her sibling's face. She first saw nervous excitement when Shepard's name popped up on the omni screen. It warmed her heart to see him in such elation. But the feeling quickly deteriorated as Garrus's face seemed to melt into utter horror. Solana rushed out of her chair and stood behind him, peering into the holo-display on his arm.

'…received reports of what we can only assume is Shepard's death with the destruction of the SSV Normandy – Alliance…'

The glass dropped from Solana's now lifeless hand and shattered on the floor next to her feet. Neither one of the two flinched as they read the remainder of the short article with rising heartbeats. The hand that dropped the glass rose up to Solana's mouth, covering her shock. She felt tears well in the corners of her eyes for her brother, who was forced into mourning and informed of his lover's death through mere text on a screen. A small inkling of hope glimmered in her heart for him as she stepped over to the coffee table, fumbling with the remote to switch on the TV. Perhaps it was a hoax by some no-name tabloid trying to make a reputation for itself? It was certainly plausible, seeing as how Shepard was the most talked about person in the galaxy at the moment.

A Turian male appeared in the center of the display, rattling off facts about one 'SSV Normandy' and its many advanced components. He spoke of the quality engineering and the time and effort that was put into such a great machine; and that it will be remembered and looked upon as inspiration for ships to follow. Solana moved to turn off the display when Garrus's hand grabbed hers, stopping the action and forcing her to continue watching the reporter.

'While the Normandy has blueprints with which top researchers can continue building off of, the same cannot be said about its crew. Commander Shepard jettisoned much of the members off of the ship just before its destruction, despite leaving herself vulnerable in the process. Her body has not been found in the wreckage, and we can only make an educated guess, that the Commander gave her life for her crewmember's safety. Anti-terrorist forces are gathering in the citadel in a collective against violent acts such as this. In an attempt to lower the number of attacks, resources say…'

"Turn it off." Solana granted his wish and shut off the display, bringing quiet to the small living area once more.

.vVv.

The precession was small and humble; just as the Commander would have wanted. Green eyes scanned the environment around her with a calm and collected demeanor. She wasn't about to let the situation get the best of her, no matter how heart wrenching it was. Tears welled at her eyes and she bit her lip in an attempt at stopping their fall. Her hand shook the pen it was holding, preventing her from writing in any names of the people that passed by her. She relinquished her menial task and tossed the pen and paper to the side.

"I.D. please." The command came out in a dead, monotonous tone. The woman in front of her searched pockets for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she pulled out a pair of dogtags, labelling that she had been part of Shepard's squad prior to her assignment on the Normandy. After comparing them to the identification read out on the woman's omni tool, Chakwas nodded her inside and looked on to the next person awaiting entrance to the funeral.

Behind double doors, Wrex and Tali were seated next to eachother, the woman leaning her head on Wrex's shoulder plate. He had taken a sabbatical from his mercenary work to help prepare for the funeral. Upon seeing the young Quarian, heartstrings tore from the stress of a heavy sorrow; Wrex broke down. Tali came to him, wrapping her frail arms around his large cowl of a neck, patting and rubbing comfort into his shaking shoulders.

Wrex had always taken pride in his relationship with Shepard. As he angrily wiped his face with his free arm, he remembered all the times they fought. Shepard might have been a human, but as the crew's time with her went on, it became clear that she had incorporated so much of every species into herself. When she was angry, she was Krogan. When she was logical and reasonable, she was Quarian. When she needed inner strength to overcome any turmoil and lead her crew, she was Turian. Her combined traits and personality garnered from her beloved crew was not only a testament of her love for them, it showed them how high she carried herself in order to carry the rest of her team.

There were only three steps that led up to the small podium at the front of the room, but to Wrex, climbing them felt like an eternity. Head clouded and eyes misty, he reached center stage and waited for everyone's attention.

"In battles past, I was a strong Krogan. In wars fought, in skirmishes won, I was a strong Krogan. I didn't need anyone's help, for I had my own muscle. Then Shepard appeared. She was a strong Human. In battles past, and wars fought, she was strong and unfaltering. Her spirit in the face of adversity could cause even the toughest of Krogan to hesitate. But even after meeting her, I was still a strong, independent Krogan. I didn't need the help of a mere human. But she changed that for me."

A pause and a deep breath. A glance to Tali, who smiled at him through a tearful face of reassurance.

"Today, I am a weak Krogan. Though I didn't ever need anyone's help before, I stand at this small podium, needing Shepard's help once more. She helped and guided me even when I refused her offer. She lead me like a true Krogan leader would. She showed me my true potential as a warrior. But today, without my commander, I am lost. I will get better, as we all will. But I feel the need to stop all of the universe, to tell all the worlds that we are about to let go of one of the greatest beings I have ever known. The only way I can think of honoring her, is to return the help that she gave to us. We will help her today to move on to the void of the afterlife, and then we will help others. As Shepard would have given her all to lead the meek and unable, so will her crew in the wake of her passing. Please join me in silence for Commander Shepard."

The solemn speeches continued, until the remaining speech givers were nowhere to be seen. Without missing a beat, military personnel took turns stepping to the podium to place various metals of recognition on Shepard's casket. Eventually, the room was emptied of visitors, leaving only a select few standing at the front. It was Dr. Chakwas's voice that filled the room in an almost ghostly echo first.

"Where could she be?" Misty eyes darted to and from each body as the unanswered question wafted around them in a stale fog.

"I…My people have calculated the options of her trajectory. She could have either been flung into space, into the nearby planet, or…" Tali was unable to finish the sentence with the only option that everyone already knew was most likely. There was no way Shepard's body could have survived the explosion of the Normandy's engines.

.vVv.

Chorra's Den was still a shithole. For some reason, Garrus remembered it as a little bit…nicer? No, that wasn't the right word. Friendlier? Maybe. He rubbed at his heavy eyelids in an attempt to stay awake. Reaching his goal was proving to be a bit harder than expected, but he wasn't about to let sleepiness botch his attempts. He took a deep swig of the garbage juice in his cup and nearly vomited. Eyeing the bartender who was staring at him disgustedly, he forced down the rest of it and sloppily slid the glass back to him.

"Another." Hesitation hmm? That's not a problem that I'll have to deal with when avenging Shepard.

Shepard. The world around him stopped moving, and the room faded to clouds and black smoke. Darkness seemed to swallow him whole as his vision closed around his periphery. There was no light at the end of this tunnel though, and Garrus suddenly felt like he was falling; falling further and further into hell. What was he doing here? A small voice echoed in the recesses of his mind. It told him that he was being illogical – that drinking wouldn't solve the problem. He laughed. What problem? Problems truly are problems only when you make them out to be so. They only thing he cared about was drinking enough to black out; and that was hardly the most important 'problem' out there.

"I said, another." His teeth grinded together as anger surged behind his eyes. Then, a tap at his shoulder. It must be that incessant voice, come to try to convince me of my problem. Another tap. That one felt oddly real. He swatted at it, closing his eyes and willing for his conscience to leave him alone for once. Hands grabbed at his shoulders and arms, dragging him hurriedly out of his chair. No amount of slurred protest from the drunk Turian made the hands stop. They pulled him out of the blaring bass of Chorra's Den and into the deserted alleyways. Garrus threw up acidic liquor everywhere as they moved quickly through doorways and around corners. With vomit on his chest, he succumbed to a chaotic slumber.

"Wakey, wakey." Shepard?

"Wake up, you idiot." The voice was angry, and it kicked him hard in his stomach. Or was that a foot? Either way, Garrus realized none too soon that it hurt like hell as stars swam around in his vision. The world was dizzy, his head was dizzy, so he expelled the contents of his stomach on the foot. He chuckled weakly at the sound of curses and yelling, stomping away to leave him in the dark room.

"You sure this was a good idea?"

"Stop your worrying. He's unbelievably drunk still, but he'll break."

"What do you even want with him?"

"I want him punished. Particularly, for his…transgressions against my being. Apparently this turian piece of shit thought it was okay to out me to C-Sec. We're gonna have fun torturing this son of a bitch."

"So, what? Phase 2? Might as well get started then."

"Yeah, but slight change in plans. That fucker got my shoes dirty."

.vVv.

Rohirik Vakarian paced in front of his desk pretending to be deeply in thought. What Garrus had just told him definitely matched the swollen plates on his face. He had been beaten badly. But what can I do?

"It was Harkin! Damn idiot didn't even cover his face. He wanted me to know exactly who was beating me to a pulp." Garrus stared at his father's strained eyes, searching for some inkling of empathy.

Rohirik sighed and shook his head exasperatedly. "For the last time, Garrus, his alibi is solid. We don't have any other evide-"

"So let me get more! Save me the trouble of searching every house and just tell me where he is so I can find you some damn evidence."

The all too familiar stern look that came next made Garrus suddenly aware of the lump in his throat. He tried to gulp it down and folded his hands behind his back, feigning confidence.

"Dad, I know there are rules against this. But what he did obviously broke about five other regulations. I think it's more than okay at this point to break one regulation to bring in a man who broke many more."

"It isn't okay, Garrus. Do something right, and by the book or not at all. I don't want to have to continue repeating myself," Rohirik paused to work some stress out of his temples, "We can't just track him down and bring him in when he has already been questioned. His whereabouts have been confirmed at another location and the evidence that we do have is mediocre at bes-"

"My word isn't enough for you?! My wounds aren't enough?"

Garrus could not believe it. When he was younger, his father was his idol. He looked up to Rohirik Vakarian as if he could do no wrong; commit no crime. His father had always been a man of the law and all of the words that described him were synonyms of "courageous" and "just". Yet as an adult standing before that same man, he no longer felt the fiery admiration he once did. It's amazing how a person can be exactly the same as they were two decades prior while still having changed so much.

"But it's not you that's changed…it's me." Garrus regretted those words only because they were true. He dropped his hands to his sides, limp with the dead weight of a terrible realization. His father had always stayed the same. As Garrus grew up under his tutelage, the older man had already passed the point in his life when one's character levels off and becomes stable in its current state. Every being with such short lives begin to subconsciously incorporate their remaining time into their character. They are likely never to change their ways, no matter how stubborn, until the day they die. It was with a heavy heart that Garrus uttered his parting words to his father.

"You know, when I was a child I thought you were righteous and just simply because you followed the law. Now I know that you were merely a coward who hid behind a false fence made of 'regulations' and 'policy'. Tell me father, is it okay to overlook evil for the sake of your job rather than follow your moral code no matter what? If the former is safe and secure, and the latter is reckless and death of your comfort…then I choose death."

"Garrus, wait!" Rohirik pounded his fists against the cold metal of his desk, but it was too late. The door to his office had closed, leaving him with only the echo of his son's voice ringing in his ear.