Chapter 1

A Decision is Made

As fate would have it, I was actually meant to be on the Normandy and nowhere else. I wasn't meant to go to Palaven; I wasn't meant to stay on the Citadel; I was meant to be on that Normandy and on that Normandy I went, even if it wasn't on my own terms.

Ironically enough, if I had been at the right place at the right time like everyone else, I would have been recruited like everyone else. The Shadow Broker knew I had information on Saren and since him/her owed me one for a job I'd done in the past, he/she decided it would have been in both of our best interests to drop my name by way of Barla Von to Mark, who was actively seeking anyone who had information on Saren. The deal would have been this: I exact revenge for the both of us and I'd feed the Shadow Broker information on the side about everyone involved.

But because I'd fucked that little arrangement up, fate chose a different way to handle it.

It also decided to throw in a curve ball.

Garrus Vakarian, the nervous and melodramatic turian that had been a pain in my ass for as long as I could remember.

Where did I meet Garrus?

Oh, uh…about six months prior to the whole Eden Prime situation. I had just arrived on the Citadel a little worse for wear, but found a picayune studio apartment I planned to rent until I set out into the Terminus again. It wasn't spectacular by any means and not because I couldn't afford something nicer on the Presidium – I could if I really wanted – but it was because I came to love the area: no C-Sec officer in their right mind would ever step foot in the Iakopa Slums on the Bachjret Ward unless someone important had been involved or killed, which rarely happened because the snobbish elites of the Presidium avoided the area like it was tainted eezo.

I decided, after I'd settled in and set myself up with another job through Von and the Shadow Broker, I'd go to Flux, which had just opened that night. I was ordering myself a dry martini with two olives when I spotted him and a few of his C-Sec buddies, who'd also decided that they'd all go out for some fun on a Friday night. Out of the group of a couple humans (one being Eddie Lang, an old friend of mine and another demisang), a salarian (who to this day I can't remember his name), a few turians (Detective Chellick, Garrus's partner, included), and one asari (who was male for all intents and purposes), he was the only one who looked the most uncomfortable.

He looked so adorable, so forlorn with that little raincloud over his head that I couldn't help but gravitate towards him. Eddie convinced Garrus to talk to me and oddly enough we hit it off right away. Normally, I stayed the fuck away from the law for obvious reasons, but I just couldn't help myself this time around because we had so much in common it was uncanny. But after a few too many drinks, a few lies about my identity, and some mild flirtatious and nervous banter, we stumbled back to my apartment and that's where things went downhill.

One thing led to another and we spent the night in my bed, waking at the dawn of the next day snuggled in each other's arms, still naked and coated in the pleasurable aura of the previous night's activities. It would have been a perfect beginning to a beautiful day, but my past had a habit of catching up with me and catch up with me it did. My record with C-Sec had grown since I'd arrived and my apartment had been raided with officers, led by the notoriously hard-assed Chellick, in search of the notorious pirate who'd had the audacity to hack their mainframe.

It was one thing to sleep with a demisang to the turians, but it was another thing entirely that Garrus had willingly slept with a criminal and been caught literally naked in the act. Chel and the officers made a pact to keep the career ending action between themselves, but Garrus inevitably hated me for it.

Hated the fact that I'd lied to him. Hated the fact that he'd fallen for a criminal. Hated the fact that I'd single-handedly made him the laughing stock of Investigation.

Whatever relationship had just begun to blossom like a sweet smelling flower had been severed at the roots right then. He'd begun to distrust me and it led to a bitter resentment that had created a wall between us. Because he'd had the stick wedged so far up his ass because of his upbringing, it made the wall even thicker and because of my anger about it, I made his job and life miserable.

However pissed I was at him for selling out to C-Sec; I didn't necessarily blame him for what he'd done. Garrus did what he had to do to save face to his uncle, Executor Venari Pallin, and his father Pontius Vakarian, who was Pallin's second-in-command in C-Sec at the time. He had to play the good little civil service turian and sever his physical connection with the demisang who'd stolen his heart and put a few bullets in it for good measure.

And I'd led him on a few goose chases after that, which really didn't help the cause.

Regardless of how he felt about me, I knew Garrus loved being a rebel without a pause. After the debacle in my apartment, Pallin would always assign him to my cases as a punishment for his infidelity to justice, and I could see it lying just behind those authoritative blue eyes that he'd secretly loved our chases and fistfights that had ensued when he'd caught up with me. It was a way to get out his frustration with Pallin and C-Sec, and I never had a problem entertaining him, since it meant that I got to see him even though it wasn't exactly on my terms.

However, the cycle would reset when I'd negotiated my way out of his custody and we went right back to square one.

You can imagine that he was pissed beyond all belief when fate had led me right to him and the Normandy and I knew that he'd plead like hell to Mark to set me up with a date with Mr. Airlock.

But Mark had entirely something else planned.

The day I boarded the Normandy, Mark made a landmark decision that would throw my ass right into the fire. And it started where most of the Normandy's problems were settled…in the med bay.

In the SSV Normandy's med bay…

Although Garrus Vakarian was frustrated beyond all belief that the irksome pirate had found a way to smuggle herself onto a shipping crate bound for a state-of-the-art warship, he wasn't all that surprised. Truth be told, the ex-detective wasn't truly surprised at much of anything anymore. Being forced into the military at the age of fifteen and policing the lower Zakera Ward for most of his young adult years had stolen that innocence from him; not to mention that the pirate's antics had shown him that what he'd learned in academy held no practical use in reality.

Rather it was just by sheer coincidence or her conscious choice; it seemed that everywhere he turned on the Citadel – and now here on the Normandy – that fiendish little imp of a woman had been there with that smug grin of hers and causing nothing but chaos, leaving a trail of bruised and battered officers in her wake. The turian ex-detective thought she did it to get under his plates mostly, since she'd actively declared war on him when he'd made the decision to leave her.

But before he allowed his mind to travel into that broken place in his soul she'd left with her sharp lies, he sternly reminded himself that she was nothing but a public nuisance and reveled in the joy of disrupting the tranquility the galactic law enforcement, and by way of C-Sec he himself, was tasked to uphold.

Nothing more…Nothing less.

It must have been bad karma on his part because it was only when he decided to disappoint his father and quit the prestigious civil service organization he had been virtually born into, had been the moment he'd finally caught her red-handed for an offence that could get her thrown behind bars for decades, and with witnesses. Had he gotten his way, he would have gladly done the honors and personally dragged her into HQ himself.

What stopped him dead in his tracks was his newest CO's insistence on not backtracking to the Citadel. They were on a mission of galactic importance and a 'simple space pirate should be the least of your worries', he could remember Shepard tell him during his earlier explanation of an abridged version of he and Olivia's history.

As both men stood vigil over the woman to make sure she didn't escape to terrorize anyone else, he rhythmically tapped his razor sharp talon softly against armored side, wondering exactly why in the hell the weathered and supposedly honorable commander had taken such an infatuation with the degenerate as quickly as he did.

From the moment the intimidating commander waltzed into Dr Michel's clinic and praised the detective for his actions in taking down the leader of Fist's thugs, Garrus assumed that his new CO was a man with a sense of honor towards those who obeyed the law and dropped the gavel on those who decided to shatter the law into little pieces like a gladiator for justice. Even if that might have been a hasty assessment based on one biased event, he was a Spectre and Alliance Military, sworn to uphold the laws of the galaxy.

And because of this, the commander shouldn't have liked her at all, because…

"Ms. Olivia Marcellus is a wanted criminal, Commander," Garrus cautioned, trying to plead his case and completing his own train of thought, "she should be escorted back to the Citadel and extradited to Palaven so she can be properly processed, tried, sentenced, and jailed for her crimes."

From a cursory glance Garrus could see the commander fold his arms over his chest in deep contemplation of the turian's words, his lapis lazuli eyes stone set on watching the rhythmic light heave of the woman's chest.

"I know Vakarian, you've already informed me of this," his tone held that martial edge as the commander threw up two fingers for emphasis, "twice during your earlier explanation of this you and woman's history. Honestly, I have half a mind to agree with you based on that alone. But," the commander paused, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, "you did say that she might have information on Saren?" The turian nodded, "and Spectre files are classified?" The turian nodded again, "Then her having information on Saren would make her an asset to this mission, am I right Detective?"

"Uh…" Garrus hummed and ran his hand through his fringe because he had a feeling that he knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

He really didn't want her on the ship for an extended amount of time or anywhere near him for that matter. If she was willing to share her knowledge on the rogue Spectre to aid this mission for the rest of them, then that was acceptable as long as she provided the information and promptly be handed over to C-Sec for processing and extradition to Palaven for judgment. However, he'd known that she'd had access to some of the most illegal of weapons manufactures and could get the Normandy state-of-the-art and vastly better weaponry than the Hahne-Kedar and Aldrin Labs weaponry they had onboard.

However sweet the setup had sounded to the untrained ear, and to Shepard apparently, this just wasn't enough to convince him. But to appease the man who'd given him the honor to join the mission and allowed the turian to complete his investigation outside C-Sec, he conceded hesitantly.

"If anything she says can be trusted, then sure," he shrugged with one of his shoulders, "she might know something of value. And her connections to the illegal weapons market could prove useful in the long run." He promptly released a sigh of exasperation, trying to contain the frustrated growl in his sub-vocals as he continued. "But she is still a fugitive and this is the first time there has been a clearly defined offense against her that she can't possibly escape!"

"Wait." The commander shot the turian a quirked eyebrow and partially turned to him. "You're telling me that this woman has gotten out of yourcustody before?"

Garrus scratched his brow plate idly, his eyes smoldering with rage at the fonder memories.

"Not…exactly, Commander," he admitted grudgingly, "it's a little more detailed than that."

Garrus really didn't want to go into too much detail since the whole situation had been complicated and infuriating on his end for so long. However, at Shepard's strategically cocked eyebrow that was aimed in his direction, he broke down and explained the shortest and most general version through gritted teeth.

"All the times I arrested her; she would use her knowledge of Citadel law to get herself out of it. Then if that didn't work," he rubbed his forehead in exasperation at recounting the memories, "she would convince Pallin that I wasn't following established protocol and he would release her on principle. Either way, the longest time she spent in custody was maybe a day."

Shepard raised his eyebrows in surprise at the turian's emotionally acidic tone. "You sound extremely bitter."

"Severe. Understatement." Garrus replied dryly and shifted his stance.

Shepard was still on the fence with a decision about exactly what to do with the woman he couldn't seem to steal his eyes away from when Doctor Chakwas; whom they'd both forgotten had been standing there listening to the conversation intently; decided to chime in from her location in front of her terminal.

"If my opinion counts for anything on this warship Commander," the two men shot her their confused glances as she disconnected a datapad and moved towards them, "I say we should, at the very least, speak with her when she awakens, not ship her back to the Citadel as Detective Vakarian here wants."

"Why?" Shepard arched his eyebrow; the exact same sentiment plastered on Garrus's face.

Chakwas ran her finger over the datapad and flipped through several menus and holos, finally settling on an image of the pirate's full brain scan and handed the datapad to Shepard.

"For starters, her beta waves are completely abnormal." Chakwas explained with her hands respectfully clasped behind her back.

Shepard nodded lightly to the doctor in understanding and turned to Garrus with a fresh concern, remembering the words spoken of him just a day before.

"Do you think she came into contact with another beacon that we don't know about?"

Garrus shrugged and Chakwas responded in his stead. "I doubt it. The beacons are rare and it was fascinating that you personally communicated with one, but this is something else entirely. The trauma her brain endured is comparable to yours, including the temporary comatose state following the initial event. But there's more." She used her thumb and index finger to zoom the image closer to the base of the woman's skull. "The damaging effects to your cerebrum were temporary. Whatever did this to this poor young woman actually did permanent brain damage. The damage in question is located in her cerebellum," she used her pinky to draw a little circle around a small circular dark spot on the corresponding image.

"And…what does this mean, again?" Shepard questioned the family friend with that cock-sure grin on his face.

Chakwas sighed in frustration and bought her steady fingers to her forehead, the tone under her words taking on one of a mother's reprimand. "Some outside source physically damaged her brain and it has affected her cognitive functions like how she understands language, her reasoning, problem solving, and decision making. In addition to that, the scans revealed synthetically implanted data files. Data she can access like an AI can access cached files." She sighed. "And I imagine that the blow to the back of the head didn't help the situation either."

"Wasn't that explanation much easier?" Shepard tested the waters again; then promptly wiped the grin from his face when Chakwas shot him one of her most scolding of looks.

"Commander," the doctor reprimanded, then continued austerely, "To put this more frankly: she is a genius…but…mentally imbalanced. Just as the four remaining senses increase when one is lost, her intelligence increased, but her abstractfunctions have respectively decreased."

She promptly folded her arms under her bust and brought her emerald eyes to the pirate's breathing form, wondering what in the galaxy could have done this to this woman, and silently hoping Shepard would take her expert explanation into account so she could run her own set of tests.

"Mentally imbalanced is an understatement. More like bat-shit crazy." Garrus deadpanned from next to Shepard.

The commander coughed to suppress a chuckle as he nodded in acceptance of the new information and returned the datapad to the doctor.

With the new information that had just been brought to light and under the scrutinizing glare of the longtime Shepard/Hackett family friend, he made his final decision. An explanation to his bitter turian compatriot was in order, so he turned on that martial grade professionalism, or in his mind, the 'commanding' tone usually heard on the CIC.

"Dr. Chakwas is right. We need to question her when she awakens." Chakwas nodded to Shepard in approval and returned to her terminal and her report. "Now since we have confirmation for the reason Saren might want her dead, whatever she knows might prove useful in finding him or the conduit. She could help us in tracking him or we could eventually use her to lure him out at some point." The commander then cradled his chin. "Maybe turn her into bait."

"So…" Garrus hummed again as his mandibles made one of those distinct turian gestures, exposing a row of razor sharp teeth, "you want to use a villain to catch another?"

As much as he wanted to scold his new CO for being completely reckless, he didn't have a two-taloned foot to stand on. The decision to use her to their advantage wasn't something Garrus would have thought of doing per se, but then there was a reason he was never in charge or tasked to make the harder decisions. He thought with his heart never his head, and his heart just couldn't see past the pain he felt every time he'd even been in the same room with her.

Nevertheless, if Shepard thought that she could aid them in bringing down that blue-eyed bastard, then he would stay considerably nil on the matter.

In respect to officially joining the 'team' and being allowed to roam the ship unsupervised, Garrus still held his deep-rooted reservations against that. However, all of her good attributes like being surgical with pistols and sniper rifles, her knowledge on armament and weapons fabrication, and her negotiation skills, could come in handy under the right set of circumstances: and what better circumstances than being on a military warship under the watchful eye of a Spectre?

Yet again, that little voice in his head admonished him as it always did when he thought that she could ever become utilitarian in her ideals.

You've been down this road plenty of times. You know she isn't one to be trusted with a weapon. She also isn't one to be trusted with access to sensitive governmental and Council information. She would use that privilege and extort us in more ways than one. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…

Shepard met Garrus's concerned and thoughtful look with one of confidence and humor, knocking the turian from his inner struggle.

"It always worked in the vids, right?"

When Garrus didn't share the humor, the commander's face puckered into a frown. "Alright, I'll interrogate her alone as not to startle her into panic mode since I'm the Spectre and criminals are usually afraid of them. But she's a pirate: there must be something we can offer her in exchange for information." Shepard brought his hand to rub the tension from the back of his neck, the earlier confidence behind his decision dwindling slowly as he put it into a mental perspective.

"If she refuses, then we play hardball your way." Shepard shrugged his square shoulders.

"What if she doesn't refuse?" Garrus solidified his stance to challenge him.

Garrus knew her. Had known her for six months now. He knew that Shepard would need more than just simple promises and mere credits to convince the pirate to turn from her usual ways of pillage, kill, then plunder the rewards: and on good days in that order. The commander would need collateral; collateral that the turian didn't think the commander could afford to give.

On the other hand, Garrus trusted Shepard implicitly and hoped his new CO knew the full implications of having her on board this small ship.

Shepard grinned and Garrus closed his eyes in a very frustrating resignation.

"Then we're one step closer to catching Saren."

Four hours earlier…

A jerking motion forced Olivia's eyes to rapidly pop open and stare wide eyed into the darkness that was the chipping container.

Shit, how the fuck did I fall asleep?

She would have delved into the mystery deeper but was being distracted by the muffled voices sounding just outside the crate. It took a brief moment, but the pirate realized that she was either being loaded onto a ship, taken by C-Sec because her whereabouts had been uncovered, or being taken deep into the torus to be incinerated with the rest of Citadel garbage.

Or even worse…

Spaced…

The possible outcome frightened her beyond belief, but she figured she'd burn that bridge when she got there.

If she got there…

Opening the display for her omni-tool, Olivia winced at the soft orange luminescence and groggily checked the time. She noted she'd been snoozing for about six hours, which was enough to recharge her enough to function properly. Aside from having to avoid bright lights for a while from being in the dark for so long, the only drawback of being stuck partially curled up in a crate was the numbness that plagued her appendages and would render her temporarily paralyzed, though it was nothing a thirty second stretch couldn't remedy.

The specifics were inconsequential because she had bigger issues to worry about. Like if she was being loaded onto a ship and she decided that if this were truly the case, then she'd go with her seizure plan.

This plan included commandeering the vessel by stealth and force. The plan called for her to disrupt the chain of command by capturing the captain and convincing the pilot to head for Omega, the central hub for all organized crime within the Terminus and speak with an old asari 'friend' of hers, Aria T'Loak, the self-appointed 'Queen' of the Rock.

As much as she despised the shrewd businesswoman and completely loathed doing business with her more, the plan had been constructed to be foolproof and as she laughed quietly to herself, it did sound a bit clichéd and she was a 'pirate captain'.

But plans like this had kept her alive and so far, so good.

For now.

The case hit the floor with a hunk, jostling her and the contents around, making her muffle an audible grunt. Over the verbal exchange of orders, she could hear the roar of the engines starting up (which she noted sounded vastly different than anything she'd ever heard and she'd been on plenty of ships from Dreadnaughts to Combat Support Craft), the subtle hiss of the cargo hold pressurizing, and the unmistakable groans of steel when the magnetic clamps are released and a ship disembarks from the Citadel's dry docks.

Immediately the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream set her mind racing through scenarios and her heart beating in anticipation.

Time for round one.

– S01E01 –

Commander Mark Shepard – freshly appointed Council Spectre, the Butcher of Torfan, and the new Captain of the SSV Normandy SR1– felt stricken with grief the moment he set foot on the Normandy through the airlock with his newly acquired alien crew in tow.

In all honesty, he should have been overjoyed that he'd been given command over the ship without Alliance overhead. It was definitely a promotion well deserved just as becoming the first human Spectre had been. Both being promotions he had only dreamed about but never accomplishing until now.

By his own standards he should have displayed his scars and medals proud. Anderson was proud by the way the dark-skinned man's face lit up with patriarchal joy and his chest swelled with pride like a doting father during the Council's speech. He knew that Hackett and Dr. Chakwas would be too, since they'd watched him grow up in the Alliance.

But he didn't…he felt unabashedly guilty, like he had stolen Anderson's priceless car for a joyride and crashed it before he could explain what he'd done.

Whereas those emotions would have compelled him to step down from the mission as did Anderson, the new weight of being the first human Spectre forced him to point that guilt directly between the brow plates of the real problem at hand.

Saren Arterius.

He knew humanity needed to catch him, not only for his treason and blatant act of war. But for the colonists killed in the crossfire. For Nihlus. For Ashley's unit. For himself. For Garrus. For Wrex. For Tali. For Anderson.

Swirling within the conflicted emotions like a thin band of sea foam within a whirlpool, he felt a slight sense of accomplishment. He – and inadvertently Saren's himself – got a turian and a krogan to board the same ship and collaborate on the same mission together without killing each other. Whether they would stay amicable after the cabin fever set in was still up for debate, but it was definitely interesting enough. But just the thought lifted some of the tension growing in his shoulders.

He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He knew he had to address the concerns of the crew and shadow his guilt because most of his crew looked quite frightened at the sight of aliens and a brooding krogan on their ship, so he marched to the helm. But before he could get one toe past the airlock door, Joker's raspy voice greeted his ears.

"I heard what happened to Captain Anderson." The helmsman mulled dismally, keeping his emerald eyes forward.

Shepard approached the left of the helmsman's chair and clasped his hands behind his back, his verbal battle stance, expecting some resistance and the possible onslaught of curse words that would rain down like fire upon him. Surprisingly, it never came, only to be replaced with a heavy sigh and a meeting of earth and sea.

"The man survives a hundred battles to be taken down by backroom politics." Joker shook his head and brought his eyes back to his CO's, "Just watch your back, Commander. Things go bad on this mission and you're next on the chopping block."

Shepard gave the man a slight nod of understanding because he knew the flight lieutenant was right. For one, Captain Anderson was too valuable of an asset to be shelved by politics and to have his command underhandedly snatched from him by a seat-warming bastard like Udina. Secondly, if the mission was a failure in any way, shape, form or fashion; the political pitbull would definitely sick the wolves on him, throw Torfan in his face, and blame him for all the damage caused. And probably send him the bill.

However proud the usually overconfident commander was in his skills, he brought his hand to rub the back of his neck in his lack of confidence gesture. "Captain Anderson should be the one in charge. I feel like I'm stealing the ship from him."

"Yeah, the Captain got screwed." The helmsman shrugged lightly. "But it's not like you could have stopped it. Nobody's blaming you."

Joker's confidence in the commander wasn't misplaced. Shepard honestly tried to stop it; he tried to convince Udina to allow Anderson to accompany them, even though he knew it was all a political ploy and it was out of his hands. As angry as Shepard was for the underhanded move on Udina's part, he used the anger as more fuel for the fire that burned inside him. There was just too much at stake to fail. It just wasn't an option he was willing to consider.

"Regardless of the circumstances of how I got here, Saren's in the traverse somewhere," Shepard shifted his stance, himself amazed at the gruffness of his own tone, "and we're going to find him."

"Don't get your panties in a ruffle." Joker teased as he pointed his thumbs at himself, "everyone on this ship, including yours truly, is behind you one hundred percent."

When Shepard didn't return the humor, Joker snorted and brought his eyes upward again.

"Look, I know you came here to address the crew. So, the intercom's open. Do your thing."

The commander took a breath and leaned forward, keeping most of the edge in his tone. "This is your Commander speaking. We have our orders: find Saren before he finds the conduit. I won't lie to you, crew. This mission isn't going to be easy.

"We all saw what happened on Eden Prime. We saw the destruction; we saw the bodies; we saw Saren's xenophobic actions against humanity and I plan to make him pay for what he's done."

Shepard slammed his fist on the panel with fervor. "Wherever Saren goes in this galaxy, we will follow. Wherever he searches for the conduit, we will be there. We will hunt him to the very ends of the galaxy if need be and bring…him…down!

"For too long, humanity has stood apart from the others. Now it's time for us to step up and do our part. It's time to show the Council what humanity is capable of and what we can accomplish with the help of the Council races. Most importantly, Saren must be stopped and I promise you all…we will stop him."

When the speech concluded and he could hear the cheers throughout the CIC, he stood upright and Joker again brought his attention to his CO, approving of the energetic speech with a small nod.

"Well said, Commander. Captain would be proud."

Shepard turned on his heel and headed for the CIC, but not before turning to Joker over his shoulder. "Anderson gave up everything so I could have this chance. We won't fail. Now, let's get out of here and hunt us a Spectre."

"Yes, sir." Joker eagerly saluted and turned back to the controls of the ship to start on the Citadel disembarkation procedures as he was ordered.

Heading down the staircase and making a quick stop in the mess for a well-needed protein bar, Shepard decided that now was probably a good time to get to know his new alien recruits. The first one on his list after finished his bar was the turian.

But what he didn't know was that he would give more than just a pep talk.

– S01E01 –

A heartfelt and long winded speech from the captain – Olivia had half a mind to listen to, but didn't – and they were off.

Relief filled her little black heart.

After the local commotion died down, Olivia felt that subtle lurch of the vessel hitting a mass relay and she promptly activated her omni-tool and took a quick scan of the area for sentient life. It was mostly clear, save for an unsuspecting blip on her thermal radar. He or she, whoever or whatever, was going to get the surprise of a lifetime when her pistol met their temple.

Calculating the time and how exactly she planned to take down her target and use him to her advantage, the pirate stealthily and awkwardly exited the crate, and with her own brand of uncoordinated catlike grace, stumbled behind a massive vehicle that was clasped down nearby. Upon closer inspection with her gloved fingers exploring the deep tread of the tires, the pirate was struck motionless.

The large object was a shiny and fresh off the line M35 Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Multiple rumors circulated through the black market of their smaller size and lower weight from its predecessor: the M29 Grizzly; the usual tank most mercenaries and pirates used and she knew it was going to come in handy in the future. She made a note in her mental filing cabinet to personally drive this right out the bay, along with any other hidden trinkets, weapons, and whatever else she deemed worthy of her attention as her cargo.

Then it felt as though the familiar needles were poking the ends of her appendages so Olivia took a few beats and stretched out her arms and legs, flexing her fingers to allow the blood to return. Once that was over, she reflexively snatched one of her pistols from her hip and crouched, stealthily creeping towards the blip.

Time for the fun and games to begin.

The symbols on their outfit and hat weren't clearly defined in the dim lights of the space, but what she could make out was the fact that he was human and a male. That was even better for her because humans were generally easier to take down than turians, krogan, asari, and batarians…unless they were biotic, then is would be a whole different ballgame. Turians could hear you coming, krogan can smell you coming, and an asari would put you in a stasis and probably flee before you even got remotely close (unless they were a commando, then you never stood half a chance).

And batarians? Well…Olivia didn't really know since she never let them get to that point.

Stealthily, Olivia caught the main artery of his neck in the crease of her elbow from behind and wedged the barrel of the pistol deep in his temple, leaving him enough blood and air flow through his throat and jugular to speak while he lost enough brain function so he wouldn't consider retaliation.

He opened his mouth and she quickly addressed the visibly rattled man before he could scream; her growling and raspy voice quiet, her Latin-based accent thick and very close to his ear.

"You even utter so much as a peep and I will paint the floor with that special color of human blood and brain matter gray. You dig?"

His head bobbled rapidly in acknowledgement. Obviously he must've been the rookie on the crew. Now if it had been her in the opposing position, Olivia would have used her leverage to flip him over her shoulder, disarm him, and then pop a cap in the back of his head.

I fuckin' love rookies. So dependable, so resolute, so easily shaken…

Olivia flicked the safety for dramatic effect. "Now since we understand each other Mr. Rookie, tell me who the captain is and how many people are on board. Any answer I don't like or you decide to be the hero," his body flinched as the barrel of the pistol was wedged farther into his temple for emphasis, "I have no reservations against lodging this bullet in your pretty little eye socket."

Olivia Marcellus, the space pirate and the feared killer, really wouldn't have.

But he didn't need to know that.

"Alright, alright. Just don't kill me. Please." The man hurried out in a hushed tone. "This is the SSV Normandy SR1 and the first human Spectre, Commander Mark Shepard, is the captain now."

Damn.

She should have really looked at the ship designation on that crate…but that name…Olivia rolled it around in her head until it struck a methodical chord.

A file in her mental filing cabinet revealed a conversation she'd had with a particularly indignant batarian about Torfan and how a human commander named Mark Shepard and his platoon swarmed his base and hunted his crew down, killing them brutally. Hence the moniker, 'Butcher of Torfan.' The rest of the information on the commander was lost because the batarian and his party were executed for holding innocent women and children as slaves and experiments, pilfered through his base of operations, and set the slaves free.

Other than the human commander being a Spectre (which Olivia thought was bullshit because Sparatus wouldn't have allowed a filthy human join the Council's best kept secret), she didn't understand how the gut instinct eluded her when she was carried onto a ship full of trained personnel. She could virtually sniff them out like a cop-hound. She knew there was no way in hell that she'd live through this one, unless she played her cards right.

Fuck!

On vessels like this, she knew there had to be – at the very least – thirty, maybe forty military staff aboard including security detail, lower level crew, officers, and the Spectre commander himself. The ship was also probably flagged by the Alliance and the crafty captain could never make it to Omega in one piece, since the Alliance never 'negotiated with terrorists' and would blow the ship into heaps of unusable space junk with her aboard before she got too far.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Frustrated that she'd been painted into a corner again, Olivia pistol whipped the man in the back of the head Upon impact, his eyes rolled back in unconsciousness and she caught his dead weight before he hit the ground, propping him up against the wall nearby and lacing his fingers over his chest to make it seem as though he had simply fallen asleep on the job.

Only time would tell how long her presence would be kept quiet by how long Mr. Rookie would stay unconscious. She paced the floor like a chained varren, running her hands over her forehead and trying to figure out how this could get any worse.

– S01E01 –

Garrus Vakarian was definitely impressed with the SR1's Combat Information Center.

From just glancing over the CIC alone, he knew there was no doubt in his mind that the rest of the SSV Normandy was a hell of a marvel of engineering. However, deep down inside and past his awe he still couldn't believe the abnormal set of circumstances that had led him here, let alone the consequences of those actions.

Garrus knew he had landed the gig of a lifetime: he was on a state-of-the-art warship that had been co-constructed by the Humans and Turians, and most importantly, he was free and clear of the C-Sec regulations and stipulations that normally held him back, all the while hunting the man who gave turians everywhere a bitter taste in their mouths.

It was everything he'd wished for and more.

He was meticulously running over the explanation (and subsequent apology) would give to his father, when he heard the voice of their CO over the ship-wide comm. Garrus didn't listen to the speech verbatim, but the sentiment behind it definitely wasn't lost. What he gathered was that Shepard was reassuring the humans that he wouldn't let them down and they would catch that son-of-a-bitch together, the latter a sentiment Garrus shared.

After the heartfelt speech concluded, he decided to make himself useful in the bowels of the ship. Since he specialized in calibrating the firing algorithms of ground tanks on the turian warships he had served on in his youth, he figured he would do so on this one as well. He also wanted to see what weaponry the commander and the Alliance had access to. He knew that if they were going to hunt down a rogue Spectre, geth, and whatever else Saren had at his disposal; they needed to be ready.

The double-wide service elevator led him down into a dimly lit shuttle bay. To his right he caught the glimmer of their lockers, the weapon's bench for cleaning and assembly of their weapons, and the floor to ceiling armory lockers where the weapons were being housed, minus the quartermaster.

The Mako, which was the object of his search, was also on this side and his mandibles flicked in enthusiasm.

As he made his way to the tank, his peripheral vision caught something out of place. When he cautiously approached the opened shipping container, he noticed that it looked as if either someone had rummaged through it or someone had been hiding within it.

Garrus let that deep rooted detective instinct kick into high gear as he assessed the situation. Something was amiss. Someone was here that shouldn't have been and he could feel it in his gut. He quietly knelt before the case to see if the intruder left anything that would give away their identity, leaving his ears open for any movement nearby.

As he rummaged through its contents, he came across the very familiar black and red shoulder bag she carried that held her dismantled Equalizer, set of Colossus armor plates, sentry interface visor, spare omni-tool bracelet she used for hacking numerous databases on the Citadel, and anything else she needed to put fear in the eyes of an innocent. If that alone wasn't enough to give her identity away then the customized pistol resting in the bottom of the case was.

He released a heavy sigh of frustration. He knew that if that irksome imp had somehow found her way off the Citadel and was roaming the ship unsupervised, then he needed to find her and halt her plans before she did irreparable damage.

– S01E01 –

Coming up short of any good ideas (she attributed it to still being a bit groggy), Olivia briefly considered hiding in the cabin of the Mako when she was rudely interrupted by the rhythmic clanking of armored feet that were quickly approaching her location. She slinked back into the shadows and crouched, hoping to avoid an open confrontation.

When Olivia peered around the tank in curiosity, she silently cursed herself for not closing the lid of the case and forgetting her other pistol because the intruder was crouched over the case, sifting through its contents meticulously. Her presence on the ship had been made, this was certain; yet, she knew she could still diffuse the situation more easily with just one, or maybe two with Mr. Rookie being present.

As she caught the momentary glint of his blueberry colored armor and his silver fringe, she wondered specifically why a turian C-Sec agent would be aboard a Spectre vessel, let alone in the company of the prestigious Alliance Navy. Executor Pallin, one of the most subjective turians of the human race and for no good reason at all, wouldn't have sent one of his own boys to serve with a Spectre. He despised them almost as much as his nephew Garrus, if not a little more.

This made no sense. What. So. Ever.

But Olivia wasn't going have a friendly chat with him about it, either.

The crucial split-second decision came easily as she didn't even let the officer rise from his crouched position. The barrel of her pistol was wedged in the back of his silver plated neck before he could even blink. In response, his body immediately went rigid as he stood to his full height of 6'2", taller than her 5'10" and to adjust for the slight height difference, she let the pistol scrape down the metal of his armored back, settling on wedging it in an unprotected space in his armor, aimed directly at his spine.

"Don't move," Olivia growled in Tal'mae, though she was human and didn't have anything on their secondary set of vocal chords and subtle sub-harmonics to make her point prevalent, "or I will paint the floor with that special color of turian blue. You dig?"

In a surprising move that caught her completely off guard, he whirled around and grabbed the barrel of her pistol, twisting it out of her hand. One blink later and Olivia was staring down the barrel of her own gun, aimed directly at her unarmored heart.

What the fuck?

Colorful expletives in English and Tal'mae swirled around in Olivia's head and she fought the urge to laugh for not seeing or feeling this one coming, however the move was terribly familiar in of itself. Only three people she'd encountered on her journeys knew that move, and she was one of them and the other two certainly weren't C-Sec. No one was usually quick enough or smart enough to perform the move successfully, but she let that slide, since it was miniscule compared to her current dilemma.

She wondered how the turian knew the move, but silently commended the man that had gotten the drop on her so easily since the feat was difficult to begin with. Again, it was blamed on the lack of sleep because she didn't dare question her own skills.

Slowly, Olivia's gloved hands rose in false surrender and she lowered her head just enough to shroud her face in shadow to allow her intentionally long bangs to mask her identity, since her eyes were so rare to begin with and gave her identity away instantly. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips because she knew this was either going to be a disaster or a blessing.

Through the dark curtain she could barely make out the silver carapace of the turian and mandibles that were adorned with vivid cobalt blue markings that stretched across his face and over his plated nose and, trailing down onto his twitching mandibles. Her knowledge of turian clans was a bit rusty (her family bore the ornate white markings of the Gothis Colony and she bore the streak of white hair in respect), so she couldn't place the origins of his lineage.

Although…the markings did look familiar in that sexy, badass sort of way…

Wait? Garrus?

No. Can't be. Can't be. Can't…be?

Olivia shook the thought off because it just couldn't be. It was replaced with a reminder that there could be another turian in C-Sec with the same markings and they all wore the same black and blue colored armor, including the asari, salarians, and humans. He could have been any one of those ignorant and committed to public service turian idiots, not the special one who sent a fire to her loins when he clapped her wrists in cuffs and growled her rights into her ear.

Besides, she'd always joked with her sister that most turian males looked exactly the same, save for the tint of their outer metallic plates (which ranged from a shimmering white-silver to a deep chocolate brown), the color of their eyes, the pitch and tone of their voices, and their clan lineage. And Spirits forbid if the turians in question were related in some way; then it was damn near impossible to distinguish them apart from each other unless you were speaking to them.

But the turian's identity was tugging so hard at the back of Olivia's mind that she had to confirm her suspicions by that hypnotic rumble and undeniably sexy accent that she fell for every time, even if a pistol were pointed at her heart. If her first assertion was right and he was who she thought he was, then this just got that much worse.

She strategically tilted her head to the side, still keeping her head low. "You look disgustingly familiar. Have I evaded you before?"

"Spirits be damned, Olivia. What in the hell are you doing here?" the turian grumbled as he loosened up a bit, but kept the gun trained on her for obvious reasons.

She chuckled in resignation and lifted her face as it twitched in amusement at being right. His defensive stance was perfect with C-Sec and military regulations and his finger itched on the trigger as though he were caressing a woman. He was the hero to her villain, the cat to her mouse, the Holmes to her Moriarty, and the only person who could have known that move to disarm her…

"Detective Vakarian," she muttered slowly in amusement, somehow knowing this would end badly, "the feeling's mutual. Didn't expect to see you," shepointed a finger at him for emphasis, "on an Alliance vessel."

"I didn't expect to see you either, but I guess I should have known. You are notorious for being at the wrong places at the wrong times. Do you do that on purpose?" He deadpanned, but his aim never faltered.

The corners of her lips curled up in a mischievous grin. "You flatter me too much, Garebear."

Immediately following the statement, Olivia landed a perfect surprise roundhouse kick to his gloved hands that sent her gun skittering across the floor and under a crate. Her foot landed behind her, she curled her arm behind her back, and held out her other hand, beckoning him with a subtle flick of the fingers.

"It's going to go like this," she said as she smirked and he took his fighting stance as he'd done so many times before, "I beat the shit out of you, lock you up and steal the ship, and send you home from my destination. Hopefully not in a body bag because you're just that damn cute, you dig?"

No reply left his pliable lips as he sent a fist sailing in her direction. Olivia snorted and easily blocked the shot that would have most certainly displaced some bones in her nose with a well placed forearm, retaliating in a hard punch to his abdomen.

It was the only way she knew to take turians down smooth because it was one of their very few points of weakness, not to mention the biggest to hit in such low lighting. Biology thought it would be best to ensconce a turian's genitals behind a shifting plate, and place their testicles high within their abdomen. So a blow to the stomach was the equivalent of kicking a human in the balls and a krogan in the quad.

However, the armor she'd made it a point to make fun of numerous times and something that she'd completely forgotten about, prevented that debilitating shot.

"FUCK!" Olivia exclaimed as the pain resonated all the way to her shoulder as she attempted to shake it out of her now throbbing hand.

"You should just give yourself up now, before you get hurt." Garrus replied arrogantly, his mandibles flaring in one of those all too familiar grins.

"You are such a dacha." Olivia replied as affectionately as she could through gritted teeth and he swung at her again.

This time he landed a blow to her ribcage that she couldn't block in time over the other flurry of punches he'd thrown her way. She hissed at the pain of metal hitting her bones and she stumbled back, grabbing her torso because unlike him, she wasn't wearing armor. She took in a few deep breaths to stabilize her composure and narrowed her silver eyes at him.

Oh, it's on now you big, stupid acrocanth.

The gloves were definitely off, playtime was over, and she planned to mop the floor with his smug turian grin.

Truth be told, this wasn't their first tango with each other – not by a long shot – and she had firsthand knowledge of the weaknesses in his fighting style. His defensive was more of a trained and regulated approach, a turian approach if you will, with a strong emphasis on blocking and off balancing to take a suspect down swiftly. His offensive was based on strong kicks and punches. Her style was more fluid, mixed, and spontaneous as she used a fighting style reminiscent of human capoeira and danced around her opponent until she had become tired or rushed.

And she knew it should have ended as quickly as it began. Her plan was to block the first hit (which she'd pulled off), return with an uppercut to the soft place under his plating to knock the wind from him, then run like hell for her pistol when he was stunned. It was a move she'd learned from sparring with her brother during her pre-pubescent years. But the 'run like hell' part was added after she'd learned from life experiences.

A warning alarm blared in Olivia's head as she pursed her lips in annoyance. With the armor on, she knew that the sweet spot was impenetrable with bare fists alone. All she could do was maybe put a fist-sized dent in his armor with her pain and his laughter as the expense. She knew she had to get that armor off somehow.

But how?

The answer struck her in the form of two small latches that sealed the blueberry breastplate in place that was located on his sides, she'd spied. The lulamanirae figured that all she had to do was find a way to unclasp those seals and she could take him down smooth.

Unclasping those seals just became the new aim in the fight.

Now just how to keep him either subdued or distracted long enough…

A two-taloned foot headed in her direction knocked her from her musings. Olivia caight it in midair and sent his whirling on his heel. Then, she took the distraction to boldly spear his torso, sending them both crashing to the ground with a loud metallic clang. Once down, she quickly straddled his waist and scrambled her hands around his sides, blindly trying to find those seals.

When Garrus realized what had happened he grabbed her waist, dug his talons in, and tossed her off like a cat.

Maybe a distraction would work better?

"So," she teased through ragged breaths as he slowly returned to his feet, "you've picked up some smooth skills since we last met. Been hitting the gym, big guy?"

"I've always had the skills. Maybe you're just getting rusty." Garrus retorted, that bratty grin back on his face.

"Riiight," Olivia breathed with a roll of the eyes.

They both crouched down and circled each other like caged animals, their bodies tense in anticipation of the other's strike. In all honesty, winning or losing was never an issue as Olivia always allowed Garrus to drag her into custody just for the hell of it. It was definitely entertaining to see him get so violently angry when she evaded his answers and got herself out of his custody. It had been some of the most entertaining times in her life.

Olivia smirked and moved quickly to close the gap. After some well-placed punches and a few blocks, her boot left the metal of the floor and landed a heel to the center of his chest, using her force to send him staggering backwards and almost onto his cowl. Before he could recover or realize what her strategy was, she stealthily wrapped her arms around his torso and unsnapped the two seals holding his armor in place, triumphantly throwing her hands in the air as if to gesture the words 'what bitch'? She had half a mind to yell it too, but decided against the action for obvious reasons.

The unblemished armor covering his torso hit the ground with a loud clank and his eyes followed.

She grinned. "Didn't think I knew how to get that pesky armor off did you?"

He confusingly eyed the armor on the ground, scratching his brow plate idly with his talon. "You're definitely getting better at this."

"Garebear," Olivia smirked wickedly, "I'm full of fun new surprises."

She used the momentary distraction to grab his shoulders and forcibly wedge the tip of her knee into the leathery tan-colored hide with enough force that it forced out a chirp of pain from him. Taking the advantage while he was keeled over in pain, shock, and throwing every curse word he knew at her, she turned on her heel and hauled ass for the crate. Landing on her stomach, she slid across the floor and grabbed the pistol. Once the familiar friend was back in the comforts of her hand, she trained it on an approaching Garrus before he even got remotely close.

When he caught sight of the gun pointed at him, he skidded to a halt.

"You cheated." Garrus gestured to her aimed pistol and his voice held accusation as if he expected otherwise.

"Pirate." Olivia made a small circle with the pistol and acknowledged his comment as though he expected otherwise.

Olivia then shook her head in disbelief at the turian's seemingly authentic shocked expression. He of all people should have known that she never played fair. Cheating and underhanded tactics had kept her alive and from Fist's thugs, from C-Sec, from whoever else had chased her in the past. But cheating also gave her bargaining power. She would have mocked him viciously for the surprise, but her time was limited and she didn't know how long they'd been fighting. So, she skipped the usual pleasantries and sped things up to the threatening phase.

"Playtime is over mellis, so this is the deal. I'm going to tie you up, steal this ship, and be on my merry way. I have illegal mods to pick up, people to fuck, and a truckload of No. 7 to consume before I disappear into the Terminus. You dig?"

"No."

His refusal came out as plain as day and he retook his defensive to prove some point of his. Olivia rolled her eyes because there was no way she was going to relinquish the gun now that she had it.

No. Chance. In. Hell.

"Garrus?" Olivia scolded in mock exasperation, "don't made this harder for yourself or for me. I'm being hunted by Saren and I'll kill whoever stands in my way of escape. I don't have any plans to die soon and I don't think you do either. So stand down soldier."

Olivia really wouldn't have killed Garrus; it would have been a waste of her time. On the flip side though, she wouldn't have hesitated to put a bullet between his eyes if it meant she could escape to pillage another day. She would have been heartbroken for a while and it would feel like a piece of her soul was missing since she'd long since deemed him her soulmate, but she would have survived the ordeal and recovered when someone else filled the role. She knew it was wrong to be and think that way, but she had a reputation to uphold and not even the turian of her heart would stand in the way of that.

"Wait," he straightened up and it surprised her enough to let her jaw drop, "You're being hunted by Saren? Why?"

She pursed her lips and gave him her 'duh' look with the gun still trained on him.

The next phrase came out laced with amusement. "Garrus, we've known each other too long for me to believe you're concerned all of a sudden. You know that whatever I say, you wouldn't believe. You have always painted me as a liar, even when I've helped you in the past. So, what's so different now?"

Garrus shifted his stance and folded his arms over his exposed six-pack, where her eyes had wandered lustfully.

"That's precisely why I'm giving you one last chance to tell me the truth. And you're right, we have known each other for what feels like forever. Because of this, I know you would have already done your damage if this was for your own pleasure. So, try me."

"Olivia?"

He cleared his throat to draw her attention back to his eyes and she shrugged in guilt. He was still as handsome as he was back then. Hell, every time she'd looked at him the one night they shared in her bed replayed in her head like a movie. And since he was always draped in that armor all the time, she'd almost forgotten how muscular he really was.

Garrus stared her down with those authoritative ice blues and eventually she sighed in resignation. However, the light bulb clicked on with a devilish idea.

Olivia was going to use this to her advantage.

Olivia knew that she was more than likely going to be incarcerated, since Garrus would probably get his way, and this meant being in the safety net of the Alliance and in the custody of a Spectre, if the information she got from Mr. Rookie was accurate. Her long awaited apprehension would cause a tabloid and media spectacle, which would mean that Saren would be stupid to send someone to kill her under the watchful eyes of C-Sec. The only bridge she'd have to burn when she got there is figuring out how to escape The Hole, C-Sec's maximum security prison on the Kithoi Ward.

It wasn't the most secure plan she'd come up with, but it was one that would buy her time at least.

"Parlay," she declared as she holstered her pistol on her hip and raised her hands again in that mock surrender, "you win this round, big guy. Here's the deal, I have information on Saren's activities, not to mention documents maiming the Turian Hierarchy, the Systems Alliance Parliament, the Salarian Dalatrasses, the Asari Republic, and a shit-ton of other classified data on plenty of other dealings."

"Really?" he cocked an incredulous brow plate after some thought, "that's the best story you could come up with?"

"It's not a story," she growled, "it's the truth and you can take it, or leave it."

After another contemplative moment, he chuckled and it sounded forced, but light. "You're right. I...don't believe you and in my right mind I can't bear to let you walk away a free woman, not without answering for everything you've done even if you have helped her in the past. Whether I'm with C-Sec or not."

Olivia mulled over the possible double-meaning in his sub-vocals, words, and tone. They'd definitely had their contrasting differences, but did the man who always wanted to see her behind bars develop a true soft spot for her? The locket must have fucked her up more than she'd thought if she was even considering that notion. She shook off the thought because it was just too incredulous.

Then all at once, the one phrase she never expected to hear hit her like lightning.

Wait? Whaaaaat? Not with C-Sec?

For the second time today, she'd heard complete and utter bullshit. Garrus Vakarian was the same man who'd devoted all of his time and hours to protecting the Citadel at all costs, a man so dedicated to his job that he'd never dated and he'd alienated the only woman he'd even entertained the idea of starting a relationship with. This was the same man who, time and time again, had an uncanny knack for finding her at the right places at the right times. This was the same detective who took a side route and played the game her way, chasing her around the Presidium while the Forgotten Legion was attempting to take down the very thing he vowed to protect.

She sure as shit must not have heard that right.

There was no way in hell…

"You're not with C-Sec?" Olivia stated under her breath more than directly questioned him, chewing on her words as she tried to understand them.

"Not anymore." Garrus replied in his usual stone-like demeanor with a hint of remorse, "And I don't owe you an explanation as to why I'm not."

"No," She shook her head as her world crumbled beneath her for the second time this week, "I suppose you don't. But-" Olivia paused, the feeling of sinking replaced by anger, "but that means you have no jurisdiction here and I don't owe you shit. That means you can kiss my petite…pirate…ass…turian!"

Olivia drew in a steadying breath and flicked the safety of her pistol with her thumb.

His reply was never heard as what happened next had been the only thing that had gone right.

Mr. Rookie, now awake and pissed beyond all belief that he had been knocked on his ass, took the butt of a Lancer assault rifle and clocked her in the back of the head. The last thing she heard before the darkness enveloped her and her head snacked against the metal floor was the sound of Garrus shouting and footsteps running towards her.

Now…for round two.

A/N:

Shotout to Skvyer for being my very first follower. You ROCK!

acrocanth – two-legged apex predator with long spines along neck and back; about thirty-six feet tall. Rare on modern Palaven.
mellis – sweetness

Thanks to chevy99 for the criticism and advice. I had to revise a few things I sincerely overlooked in my prologue and the subsequent episodes. Mucho thanks for the heads up.

Thank you for checking the story out. I hope I am doing a fine job.

XOXO