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There were a few contacts still loyal to him, or to the creds he'd waved under their noses. It did not matter to Garrus which they responded to. That quarian Kenn had left him with some money in his pockets. Garrus wondered, not for the first time, if Shepherd had been the one to insist on leaving him with some sort of means. Or had it simply been the quarian's scruples coming back to bite him?

In any event, he was now a turian on a mission. Due to one familiar thug he used to bust on a fairly regular basis, because the Citadel was one big damn revolving door, he now possessed the information that there was only one person to see about disappearances.

A man named Shroud.

It tickled the back of his mind, a soft whisper of familiarity that echoed in his thoughts. He knew that name. The only question was 'how'? It was on the edge of his tongue, and his mandibles clacked closed in concentration. He needed to have a little chat with Shroud, because whether he liked it or not, Shepherd's and his fate were intertwined by whatever answer he discovered.

He had to know to avenge his slain men. Good men. Men who had only wanted to make a difference. Some had wives and how by the Spirits was he supposed to look into the faces of their widows and explain this? If Shepherd was innocent, he'd shoot every creature that had dared to harm her.

And, if she wasn't… well, he'd do what must be done.

It had taken four days of shifting through the subpar echelons of the wards, just to find the one duct rat willing to go through less than reputable channels for some monetary benefit. For a brief moment, he felt as if he were still in C-SEC and being a plain clothes officer protecting the weak once more. However, it was all a lie now. He was as much a predator as any of them. The only difference was his targets.

He felt that still mattered for something. Even if most of his thoughts mired him in some form of disgrace, he knew exactly who he was and could live with it.

His current target shuffled slowly down some steps in the factory district. Garrus watched sharply, looking for any weakness that could be exploited. It had taken the better part of two days for his new connection to track down Shroud.

The name still prompted some vague sense of recognition.

Silently he pulled away from the wall he had been leaning against. He straightened himself up to his full height and cast a cursory glance around the area, hoping that no sets of prying eyes would glimpse him. A gun already in his hands, and his confidence rose with each passing step. His neck craned to the side, and he listened intently. He could hear the stilted movements of two larger beings inside.

It didn't take much to instill some fear into a few lesser guards of a rotund volus. Looking down the barrel of a gun tended to take the fight out of a few people. The volus that called himself 'Shroud' included. The sniveling creature had stuttered pleading with Garrus not to harm him.

He wouldn't, time constraints and such. Even as he wasted time here, he knew Omega was reverting back to its old ways. There was an almost compulsory need to get back there. Perhaps it was because he was needed. Or because she was there. He hated that he knew the old feelings resurfaced when he pictured her limp fringe and strange wide eyes.

He hissed quietly to himself, pushing for focus but failing miserably.

He was sick, wrong, and bad. The heat he felt, the strange need to protect her, and his possessiveness over her all pointed him to the inevitable which made him sick to his stomach. He was a terrible turian, but he was a damn fine sniper.

The creature surrendered the location of the true Shroud with little more than an intimidating click. It also helped that Garrus towered over the defenseless volus who shouted threats at his inept 'guards'. There were times when Garrus truly enjoyed his bad cop routine.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes before he strutted back up those steps, on his way to another ward. He passed familiar areas. Ones that had been on his patrol routes and the waves of nostalgia creep in like an unwelcomed tide. It started slowly, but gained in force.

His azure eyes landed on the first place he'd collared a perp. He'd been so proud of himself that day. For he had believed he was making a difference. What a naïve fool he'd been. His eyes were wide open now, and he doubted he'd ever be able to close them again.

Let the others keep their ignorance; it was not his place to take it away.

Of course the memories of his most hard fought bookings were prominent. There had been the serial killer; a human who had simply lost all touch with reality and murdered sixteen Salarians for being 'lizard people'. Then there was a Krogan that had been hired as a mercenary and ambushed the wrong group. Or the Asari that had been selling illegal drugs to children barely old enough to drive sky cars.

However, as he neared the Zakara ward, time became unkind. His mind and body knew this area almost by muscle memory alone. There was a spirit that haunted this place, and he wondered briefly if it were him. If Kenn had killed him and this was nothing more than a cruel punishment for his misdeeds. However, the jarring ache in his chest firmly reminded him that he was still amongst the living.

His mind flashed back to the last time he walked this part of the ward. A younger Shepherd spoke with him in a vendor's shop, still in business by the look of it, about the children she watched over. He could still recall their snippets of their conversations. The look of conviction on her face had nearly rivaled that of a turian General in the midst of battle.

'They could have a chance when they are older,' she'd said to him that day. The determination in her voice, coupled with the sadness in her features had torn at his heart.

'But what about you?' He'd asked. He had wanted to know, truly know, about the young human female bartering her life away for the good of those children. Those and however many others had been in her care. From their unfortunate meeting with Sharta, he had the feeling there were several others he did not know about.

She was so disadvantaged. Perhaps by birth, or the parents that had left her to fend for herself in dangerous vents. Who were her parents? Did she even have any memory of them? He'd never thought to ask until now. He trilled a bittersweet note of regret. Looking back on it, he'd acted with the best of intentions. Yet, he felt he should have done more.

'If we had met some other way, would it have been different?'

He narrowed his eyes and pushed the memories aside. The question was too painful to answer again. If things had been different…

He would have done so many things to keep her near him. The strange human with the eyes that haunted him, and the gentle way she spoke with him. She was Shepherd. However, things were not different. They were what they were and now he was stuck cleaning up the mess that had been made. The weight of betrayal burned at his chest and fringe.

Instinct told him he was getting closer. He crossed through the memories mercilessly. They were unable to sway him at this moment.

Garrus inputted the coordinates into his omni-tool, the place the volus had given him, and set off for it. He had nothing to say about the location, but the choice of hideout was a tad strange to him. It proved to be more difficult to get to Shroud than he had originally thought. It had required the explosion of a few mechs. He understood that Shroud would be able to tell he was coming, but that was the whole point.

He's already half drowned in blood lust by the time he makes it to the back of the factory where Shroud is hiding. Why he had chosen this place, Garrus couldn't say. However, his first inclination was that Shroud was purposefully trying to be a pain in his crest.

The door slides open and recognition races through him like lightening. There was a man standing at a console busily trying to raise more mechs. Presumably it was to kill the turian storming his base of operations. He took exception to that.

"Shroud?" He asked with open distaste evident in the way he spits the name like a curse. It invoked a fury in him because he'd be damned if that wasn't a name Shepherd had given him long ago. Nearly a life time ago, it felt like. His memory recalled her saying something about the children under Shroud's care.

Shroud was Harkin. Shepherd had left those kids under this bastard's care? He was incised.

Harkin, it turned out, was not an easy man to find, when he didn't want to be found. Garrus had always held misgivings about the human C-SEC officer. He was as dirty as a vorcha after its rutting. He bit back a growl of irritation and clicked his mandibles sharply. His sub harmonics conveyed his mounting disgust at the situation. Harkin was the only scum bag bold enough, or stupid enough, to still keep his base of operations on the Citadel. Garrus was not entirely certain which thought upset him more. The idea of Harkin being near Shepherd or Shepherd relying on a piece of filth like him. Harkin would sell his own mother to slavers if it meant turning a quick profit.

"G-Garrus?" The man with shifty eyes stuttered nervously. His terror was a balm on Garrus' soul.

He narrowed his avian eyes, those of a predator, on the prey before him. "I'm looking for someone." He warbled out through clenched teeth. His sub harmonics warned the man, though he could not hear it, not to try anything because he was looking for an excuse to put this animal down.

However, Harkin had never been known for his intelligence. Garrus felt his paltes vibrate with agitation as the man had the nerve to go from frightened to smug in a heartbeat.

"Well, that'll cost you." The greasy and slimy way the human spoke, flat without the benefit of the harmonics, made him feel dirty. He hated the feeling instantly. There had been many a time when he had actually been covered in grime and never felt the moral filth he experienced now dealing with the likes of Harkin.

Garrus grinned at him, a turian grin with narrowed eyes and pointed teeth from fluttering mandibles. The look of shock when he rammed his fist into Harkin's face would be etched in his memory for years to come.

An explosion of crimson erupted from the force of this fist. He stepped back, hoping to avoid getting some on his armor. It proved slightly useless. Oh well, he couldn't win them all.

"Dammit Garrus!" Harkin hollered in a muffled tone due to the copious amounts of blood he was swallowing. There was a sense of satisfaction that emitted from the center of his chest. It was bone deep, well beyond his plates, and he rumbled his contentment at it.

"You're going to tell me what I want to know," he hissed lowly, the menacing warble in his voice caused Harkin to still. It was either his tone or the swift punch to the human's midsection. He never understood the un-plated species, they seemed far too vulnerable. He wondered how they had survived this long.

"Or you're going to swallow a lot more blood."

It was a promise. Not a threat. He fully intended to carry out with mashing the male's face into a pulp.

Harkin spat, the spittle tinged red with his iron-rich blood. That was still a novelty to Garrus. Red blood.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, clutching his damaged face between his hands, attempting to stop the flow of blood. Harkin's tone was sarcastic and mildly afraid.

"A friend of ours," he stated lowly with pure menace radiating off of him in waves, "went missing."

Harkin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and wiped a bloody hand on his shirt. His crafty eyes wandered back to the pissed off image Garrus presented. His face was a blank mask for a moment. Garrus schooled his features, so that Harkin wouldn't know how close he was to another blow to the head.

"I might need some more information than that," Harkin stated slowly, looking away.

Something in Garrus' instinct warned him that Harkin might already know exactly whom he was talking about.

"Her name is Shepherd." He warbled out a bit more reserved than he had been moments before. His throat constricted around the word, as if trying to keep it from being said. An ache started in his chest, but he pushed it aside quickly.

"A duct rat-"

"I know who she is," Harkin replied, suddenly defensive, "and I ain't telling you shit."

He would never understand why humans went to profanity so quickly. Or why they were so fascinated by their own excrement. It spoke volumes of the species as a whole that were not pleasant and had made him shudder more than once.

Garrus was a blur. He reacted to the defiant tone in a manner that surprised even him. He kneed Harkin in the stomach with such force that it slammed the man into the wall and then into the floor. Quickly, he placed his foot on Harkin's neck. Both to keep him from escaping, or from hurtling more insults Garrus didn't have time to hear. He needed answers and he needed them now.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" His tone warbled his frustration at wasting time and his satisfaction at Harkin's plight. He pressed down and Harkin thrashed as wildly as was possible.

"I hear air is a very precious thing, Harkin. I enjoy it myself. I can't help but think that punctured lungs would be bad for your business." He pushed harder against the fragile human, watching his face turn a different shade. "Am I right?"

"Get off of me!" Harkin demanded in a panic. "I'll tell you."

"Yes," Garrus intoned glacially, "you will."

There was no gloating in his simple statement, just a deep belief that he would get his way. He lifted his foot from Harkin, watching the ineffectual glares that man threw at him with some vague sense of amusement. The man hobbled slowly to his knees, spiting more blood at Garrus' armored feet.

'Bastard,' he mentally snarled.

Harkin narrowed his gaze, and cleared his throat. "Why are you after Shepherd?"

"After?" He replied smoothly, "who said anything about going after her?"

The human snorted in agitation.

"I'm not that stupid Garrus."

Well, they would just have to agree to disagree on that. His azure eyes never wavered from the man in front of him.

"Why did she leave the Citadel?"

"Shit Garrus," Harkin muttered sourly, "until you came in here shooting up the place and asking about her; I had no idea she was even still alive."

Garrus flared his mandibles in a display of aggression. It was not what he wanted to hear.

"What happened to make you think she was dead?"

Harkin ran a hand over his balding head. "I don't know, maybe it was the fact that she just disappeared. Some of the others were saying-"

"How are you a Duct Rat anyway?" Garrus interrupted suddenly. It was bothering him to no end.

"I ain't a duct rat. I just run with that crowd. They see everything and no one ever pays them any attention." Harkin glared at him again. "That is good for my line of business. Shepherd only ever asked me to keep the kids safe in exchange for some information. It is was a lucrative trade for me."

"Continue," Garrus rumbled detaching his gun from his armor, and waving it in Harkin's face.

"She just disappeared," the human repeated through gritted teeth, "some of the others said it was slavers. Some said she got in with the wrong crowd. Others thought some lover killed her. It ran the gamut of rumors. All I know is that she wasn't around one day."

"You didn't look for her?"

"Not my problem. They come and go, as they get older. I thought she'd be out somewhere popping out babies as much as she loved those kids."

His lower harmonics expressed his fury at Harkin for taking advantage and for the illegal things he'd done. It also would have warned any other turian in the area that Garrus was walking a razor thin edge of murderous rage. The man hadn't even looked for Shepherd, while Garrus had searched high and low. They both should have protected her from becoming that thing on Omega.

She might have been safe then and his men would not have been slaughtered like vermin.

He pushed the gun to Harkin's forehead.

"What are you going to do Garrus? Kill me?" The shifty eyes of the human darted from the gun to the turian.

He wanted to pull the trigger so badly.

Unbidden an image of Shepherd flashes in his mind's eye and he growls. The haunting open eyes and the last vestiges of the innocence he wanted to protect once, a long time ago. It felt like decades, but it had only been three years. What had happened to him?

What had happened to Shepherd?

The gun in his hand lowered slightly. His mandibles flared for a moment, exposing his sharp teeth, and he warbled his bitterness over the situation.

He wouldn't shoot him, this time, for Shepherd. For whom she used to be, because some part of him couldn't believe that woman aboard Omega was really her. It couldn't have been. Maybe the rest of the space was teeming with filth, but something had to be going on with her.

His gut instinct told him that something wasn't right about the situation. He'd had days to think it over and his conclusion was always the same. The way she'd phrased things hadn't been right and he was wasting time.

He lowered his weapon, with a snarl of anger at himself. He wasn't so far gone yet. Maybe there was still some of the old Officer Vakarian in him… somewhere.

"That is Garrus?" Harkin bit out warily.

"Not quite." He said, his voice was smooth like velvet. His Omni tool pinged and he tapped two buttons without looking. C-Sec would be there in moments, and he needed to leave.

But first, he slammed his head into Harkin's causing the man to faint with the force of the impact. Turian heads were harder than humans. And, Garrus felt he'd put it to good use.

He had to do something, at any rate. He hadn't shot him. His conscious was clear. Without missing a beat he walked from the warehouse and left Harkin to be picked up by the fools that still felt they were making a difference.

The kind of fool he used to be.