Shepard jolted awake to a stabbing pain behind her left eye. Pressure built as she failed to open her eyelid. Peaks of light seeped through, and the room remained hazy and unfocused. Cool tile pressed against her feet while stumbling to the bathroom. In the mirror, her hair stood ratted and knotted from sleep. The worst sight, however, was her eyelid's raised red and blue skin. Her eye had completely swollen shut.

Pill bottles toppled and hit the ground as she fumbled through her medicine cabinet. An expired tube of topical medi-gel hid behind unused sleeping medication. The thin liquid caked her pores as she lathered it over her eye. Hopefully, she could see straight by the time she made it to Finch.

A blaring message from Vakarian on her omni-tool appeared in fuzzy lettering.

GV: At Bright Bite Bar, in view of Harlow's. Where are you?

OS: Patience.

Shit.

She didn't have time for public transport. She'd have to spend a hundred credits on a rented car just to get to Zakera on time. At the very least, she'd make sure C-Sec would reimburse her later. Shepard threw on the same outfit from last night and strapped her gun to her ankle before dashing out her apartment door.

The skycar lifted effortlessly into Segusk's congested airways. Shepard stomped on the gas, weaving past the slow drivers in the late morning. The steering wheel dug into her palms from her tight hold.

How the hell did she leave with Aptis last night?

Shepard pressed on the gas harder, stomping it into the floor. An inconsiderate driver slowed with a signal. Shepard winced as a chime blasted into her earpiece. From the distraction, she swerved past another car. The initials G.V. in the orange light of her omni-tool yelled at her. He was calling now.

"What?" Shepard yelled over the clamoring of horns as she weaved past another driver.

"Where are you? Are you driving?" Vakarian called out over the noise.

"I'll be there. Stop your grumbling." Shepard hung up the call before he could bother her more. She didn't need him to hear her panic. And how or even should she tell him about her leaving with Aptis? Shepard pushed the thought out of her head and focused on the flowing traffic.

The car touched down in the sparse skyport of Zakera's third floor. The Bright Bite Bar sign glowed in purple neon within her skycar's rearview mirror. A handful of people sat at tables, relaxing among the other clientele on the patio. Vakarian's stiff seated stance stuck out like a sore thumb, even with her one functioning eye. His gaudy yellow and green suit only brought more attention to himself.

"Here, you in place?" Shepard whispered into her earpiece to confirm it was him.

"You can't see me, but I can see you," Vakarian's dual tones shot into her ear. Warmth grew at her neck and slid down her back.

"Ugh, creepy."

"That's funny coming from someone who stalked me last night," Vakarian stated, talking into his comm piece.

"Sorry, I'm a hypocrite. Surprised?"

"From you? Hardly."

"Well, take it from someone who did professional espionage. I can see you easily. You still look like you have a stick up your ass." Shepard adjusted the rearview mirror to keep him in focus during her beratement. Vakarian shifted uncomfortably, holding onto his carapace while straining his neck.

Slick, burning pain stabbed at the base of Shepard's skull. A vise-like grip wrapped around her temples as the heat rose from her neck. Her arm hair rose with goosebumps, static shocked around her form. She sucked in a breath between her teeth. The cool air did little to dull the pain, but it at least calmed her racing thoughts.

This would be just like old times. She had to remind herself. Just like a year ago. Just a normal meet-up before a drug run. She just had to pretend like there wasn't an obvious C-Sec officer listening to her every word.

"Go get a drink and chat up a cute guy or girl. Stop looking like a cop on a stakeout talking to himself. You'll get me killed," Shepard hissed.

A heavy sigh over the comms cut through her anger. "Fine, Shepard, I'll get a drink at least. Good luck."

"Th-thanks, I guess," Shepard coughed, ending the call before stepping out into the ward.

The third floor of Zakera bustled with activity, with Citadel inhabitants making their way through the market. Hundreds of ads lined the ward's walls, all calling for Shepard's attention.

A new Blasto 4 ad yelled catchphrases at Shepard, only intensifying the wrapping pain on her skull. In the next panel, large, slender text over a purple city skyline reached out to her, "Visit Illuim: The Gateway of the Terminus System. She tried to ignore the nuisances until an advertisement of a saluting olive skin-tone man called passersby to join the Alliance. His light brown eyes reflected her own beaten face.

An old taunting memory pulled her to the ad. Her own likeness had been plastered on these same walls only four years ago. Only to be quickly torn down after her month-long Red Sand bender. A bender the Alliance was responsible for, even if the official paperwork placed the blame squarely on her.

Shepard sneered at her swollen eye in the reflection and pushed forward to meet Finch. Harlow's rested at the corner of the stairs to the fourth floor, which garnered heavy foot traffic. Yet, the patio remained bare except for a loitering chain smoker.

Red and black concrete pillars lined the patio dining area to suggest wealth. Fake Earth-like plants crawled along the patio to allude to some semblance of classiness, although the clashing colored pillars appeared gaudier with the greenery—just as Shepard remembered when she used to work protection.

"Nice to see you, Shep! Care to join?" The muscular smoker called out to her. Shepard didn't recognize her, but she wore the same dyed bright red hair as Shepard, tied into a waist-length braid. The cigarette lingered on her dark brown fingertips. Ash fell to the ground with her waving movement. Saliva pooled on Shepard's dry tongue. God damn it, did she need that cigarette. Shepard breathed in the tempting offer of the smoke but rushed into the restaurant to avoid leaving Finch waiting.

Flickering red lights illuminated the walls, and the empty dance floor's blue tile shone from disuse. Finch sat alone at the bar. The stout, pale man poured a half-empty liquor bottle into two glasses in Shepard's approach. His brown, thin eyes widened as he looked her over.

"Jesus, you look like shit. C-Sec must have done a number on you." Finch grimaced while taking a swig of his drink and passed one to her. "I didn't realize how bad it was. We'll get Bastings on those assholes."

"It's whatever, let's just work this shit out, okay?" Shepard leaned on the plywood counter, taking the drink up with ease.

"Okay, I'm sorry I strong-armed you yesterday. You didn't deserve that. It was just bad timing, you know?"

"No, I don't. What's going on?"

An audible wince from a stiff drink left Finch's lips before he spoke. "It's a shitshow, Keyes and Jefferies are missing. They skipped town with our latest shipment."

"Shit, how much?"

"A good 100K worth. So again, about the car, shit's bad, and we can't just be forgiving debts, even for family." He stretched out the last word and took another drink, leaving Shepard waiting. "But let's work something out. Go with your old rate: 1K per run, like in the good old days. We can get you on a payment plan and let's say 2K per month for the car. Do a run a week, and you'll be making money!"

Shepard scoffed and brought her voice low. "You had those numbers ready, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't be me if I wasn't prepared."

Shepard drank slowly in response, letting the whiskey burn down her throat and distract from the building pulsating pain in the base of her skull.

"Well, it sounds like you need me. 2K per run and 1K per month for payment," Shepard said, flipping the now empty glass on the counter.

"Jesus, I just said we were hemorrhaging money." He smirked into his glass. Shepard sneered, waiting for him to continue. "1.25K for runs and 1.5K for car payments."

"The Sand will net you more than enough. 1.5K per run and 1.25K per month for the car."

"Deal," he laughed.

"Could I have gotten you to go lower on the car?"

"Come on, I'm not gonna tell."

"Same old bastard."

"You missed me. Good to know hanging around those turians hasn't made you soft even if they look like a pile of rocks."

"Fuck off," Shepard said with a loud huff.

"Right, your neighbor. Sorry. So he drank too much and jumped?" He asked with a shit-eating grin.

"Tortured you ass." Shepard shot out. She should have stopped talking, but the drink began to kick in, pushing her to ask. "And you already knew that. How?"

"We have friends at C-Sec Shep, and we look out for our kind. Why do you think Bastings showed up so quickly?"

"I thought as much. Whatever. Just when and where?" Shepard pushed herself off the bar, trying to show indifference. Her heart pounded harder as he brought up Aptis. She needed to keep him on track. To begin with, she needed Finch to forget that Aptis was the reason she was standing in the bar.

"Tonight, 2100. Chora's Den, meet me here, and then we'll head to the back room. You know the drill, or I hope you remember."

"Yeah, just take the car payments out for this one and send me the leftover creds. We good?"

"No time to catch up?"

"See you tonight Finch," Shepard waved with her back already to him, dashing towards the door.

Garrus left the crowded, sleek bar with the taste of a half-finished energy drink still fresh on his tongue. The clientele stirred in an afternoon drunken haze, but his focus needed to stay sharp while on the job.

Shepard emerged dashing from Harlows' dual-swigging doors. While the distance masked her expression, she moved in a jerky and panicked manner. Her cloak soon activated, disappearing from his sight. He had to remind himself to update his visor for heat signatures if she was going to keep this up.

Several pings on his omni-tool soon lit up and blared into his comm piece.

OS: Hey

OS: You heard that, right?

OS: We need to talk. NOW

Garrus sighed, his annoyance at her antics already creeping up. He pushed his shoulders back, and a cracking sensation ran down his carapace. He needed to keep calm if he wanted this to work between them.

GV: Same meeting spot?

OS: Buy me a fucking massage too

GV: Turian thumbs-up:

OS: I'm gonna take that as a yes

In a rented skycar, he sped from Zakera to the Sertoma, touching down in the same rotting lot from last night. The day-lit hours highlighted the district's unruly nature, which enhanced the sleek and clean feeling of the Sertoma as he entered the doors once again.

The process of putting his gun away made him twitch with unease. Even in plain clothes, he wore black under armor. Although it did not provide much protection besides comfort. At the very least, another layer separated him from the spa inhabitants.

Garrus pushed through the half-clothed, crowded Coalesce floor to the studying rooms, where Kira greeted him with unease. She ushered him to the same private room with the wall-sized window that bore down on him. The terminal gleamed with an orange glow on the sleek white steel table. His datapads clinked as he placed them down to create a makeshift workstation. Garrus rubbed his fringe, craning his neck, missing his private office within C-Sec. At least a spa had been the most comfortable place for him for fieldwork. Even in the comfort, they were on the two-hour rented clock. Shepard needed to hurry.

GV: Same room as before, where are you?

OS: :human thumbs-up:

GV: does "where are you" not translate?

OS: translate this:

OS: patience, please

GV: well, I guess you'll just have to miss that stone massage

Garrus raked and tapped his talons on the table in annoyance as half an hour went by. The flowing light blue uniform swished with each of his irritated movements. He occupied himself with several datapads and notes.

The processing of Aptis' body still hung in limbo with the coroner. Warrants to access Aptis' computer files still pended in the courts. Forensics still fretted about decoding the lost footage. All red tape and time wasted. And soon, more Red Sand would hit the Zakera ward floors.

A ping brought him out of his study. His eyes darted to his omni-tool, hoping Shepard had replied. Instead, a bright red light flashed with the ping—an urgent message. Not just any urgent message, but one from Lamont. Lamont was actually being serious for once. Garrus brow fell in anticipation of the message.

KL: Hey, good or bad news first?

GV: Come on, bad news first. You should know me by now

KL: None of the staff remember Casotin or Shepard. So got nowhere on interviews

GV: gonna need that good news that was promised then to lift my ghosts

KL: Spirits

GV: Same thing

KL: The owner of Dark Star gave us their vids. Is this your girl you've been stalking?

The video flicked with flashing blue and pink club lighting. The lights wrapped around Shepard's dangling form, hanging off Aptis as he stumbled out the door.

KL: Looks like she left with Casotin. Want Ridgefield to bring her back in for questioning?

Good news, his fringe.

Garrus cursed under his breath. The last thing this investigation needed was his new contact lying to him. But with closer examination, Shepard appeared almost completely passed out as Aptis dragged her out of the bar.

GV: She looks barely awake. Go over all of the vids and see if anyone is trailing them or stands out.

KL: You got it boss :human saluting emoji:

Garrus huffed, pushed aside the useless datapads, and shot out another message to Shepard.

GV: Where are you? No more patience crap.

OS: Patience :)

OS: Get me ramen. I'm almost there

OS: With pork slices

OS :Human prayer hands emoji:

GV: Just hurry up

An order of pork ramen steamed in Shepard's empty side of the table. But the pungent flavor of freeze-dried Tameric filled Garrus' senses. The brilliantly shaded purple jerky broke and crumbled into pieces on the white table. The meat from the six-legged animal native to Palaven, one of Garrus' favorite snacks, did little to distract him from his annoyance.

Garrus clicked his mandibles as the minutes ticked by while reviewing notes. He only put two hours on for the timed room but considered adding more. He did not look forward to how this expense report would go over. Pallin would have a field day with these outings at an off-ward spa. Garrus tried not to think what his father would say either. If his father even got an inkling of some of Garrus' less-than-traditional practices as of late, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it.

A thud of the door caught Garrus off guard, causing him to jump to his feet. Shepard rushed into the room, wafting the stench of cigarettes at him. Her light blue tunic and pants clung to her body as she paced around the room. Her bright red crest tied back into a short tail shook with her frantic movement.

"I can't fucking do this. You heard him, right?" Shepard turned to him, one eye completely swollen shut and surrounded in dark blue. Spirits, it was worse than yesterday. He definitely had to talk to Allis now about handling suspects. The other eye, green and bloodshot, stared at him—waiting.

"Shepard, calm down. You had me wait an hour for that?"

"I-I just. Fuck! I confirmed that shit. They have C-Sec, they have some asshole human lackey they're paying off. And sure, fine, my identity isn't given out in your reports, but are you reporting you are using a CI? Put two and two together, Vakarian. I would be the first they suspect." Her words fired out of her mouth almost too quickly for his translator.

"I haven't filed anything. I don't need to file use of a CI until the end of the investigation for this very reason, Shepard." Garrus paused, clearing his throat. "The only other person who would know about you is my boss, a turian who has a stick so far up his ass it's coming out of his mouth."

"Such lovely imagery you painted in my mind."

"Did it calm you down at least?"

Shepard gave him a small laugh, taking the chair sitting in front of her now cold ramen before sighing.

"Making me reconsider eating."

"Well, that's all you're getting on C-Sec's 'dime' as you say."

Shepard rolled her eyes in response. "You sure know how to treat a girl."

"Well, what do you expect? Where were you for an hour?" Garrus asked, taking a seat in front of her. Shepard, in return, crossed her legs in the seat and bounced, shaking the table. Her face whipped away from the question, but he caught the signs of an unfocused, glassy look in her eye. Spirits, if he's working with an addict, this whole endeavor would be screwed.

"Shepard, are you high? Drunk?"

"No! I mean Finch did give me a strong pour, and I was smoking, but-"

"But?" His tone clipped. Shepard took a deep breath and relaxed her legs.

"You know how I said I'd put feelers out?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my friend said I left with Aptis that night," Shepard paused, leaning forward, wafting the smell of smoke towards him again. Her good eye focused now, watching his movement. "I swear I don't remember anything. I know that looks bad. I know you're trusting me on this-"

Garrus cut her off, going into the questions that he had planned before she burst through the door.

"Could you have been drugged?"

"No! I'm always careful with my drinks."

"You said you don't remember. How would you know? Your blood alcohol level was already high, but if you don't normally black out. Then could that be a possibility?" Garrus asked.

Shepard fidgeted in her seat while squeezing her good eye shut. "I don't want to believe I put myself in that situation."

Garrus softened his voice. He reached towards her, grasping her shoulder to get her attention. Warm, soft skin seeped through her tunic. "I want to work with you, Shepard, but this is what do you call it? A two-way road?"

"Street," Shepard huffed, wincing while pulling from his grip.

"Same difference." Garrus raised his hands in mock defense, trying to disarm her uneasy nature. "I appreciate you telling me. I actually have a vid of you leaving with him. You were completely passed out, Shepard, not just drunk. Are you sure?"

"You already knew?"

"As of an hour ago," Garrus stated.

"And you were just gonna hold out on that information?"

"Well, how long have you known about leaving with Aptis?"

"Last night," Shepard said, eyes cast down in guilt.

"Shepard, you hide things from me like this, and the agreement doesn't work. We need to work together." Garrus said in a flat tone, no anger in his voice, just a matter of fact. He'd have to cut her loose if she kept information from him. "Let's get you drug tested. Having this information will only help your case."

"It's just, I definitely had more than just alcohol recently, and I'd rather that not be on any official reports with my name attached to it. That could affect my license and my career in the future."

"I'm pretty sure being framed for murder would do worse for your license," Garrus said unamused.

"It's just law school is my last shot-" Shepard whined as he cut her off.

"We're talking about the now—not in a few years. You need to get tested if you want to help to clear your name. I can only do so much shielding."

"Shit," Shepard collapsed into the chair, head hung back almost as if she was concentrating on the ceiling above.

Garrus flicked out his mandibles, trying to think on the spot to find a solution.

"Look, I have a friend, a doctor. She owes me a favor. If that makes you feel better, we won't go through C-Sec channels."

Shepard slowly raised her head to speak. "Really? Yeah, that would make me feel better."

"She can take a look at your eye, too."

"Feeling guilty? Or worried about Bastings going after your guy?" Shepard snarked.

"If he gets in trouble, that's on him. You lose an eye, and it'll be a pain in the ass to deal with, trust me." Garrus tapped his talons against the table in annoyance. Not at Shepard, but at Allis. He would probably have Pallin write him up with how bad her eye had gotten.

She glanced down at the untouched food with a small frown. "Fine. Let's go to your friend. Rain check on that massage?"

Lingering hints of whiskey sat on Shepard's tongue. The smoke, still fresh on her lips, mixed with the drink, left a horrible taste in her mouth.

She needed to brush her teeth. She needed a shower to get the stench of smoke out of her hair. She needed to be home and not out in the open.

Instead, she found herself trapped in the passenger seat of Vakarian's car. She stewed in the seat, tapping her foot against the dashboard. God damn, if she had to go with him, he at least could have let her drive.

"I could have gotten there on my own," Shepard whined.

"I'm not waiting another hour for you to decide to show up somewhere," Vakarian said while starting the car.

"Fine, but I'm not risking being seen with you," Shepard said mockingly while activating her cloak and lowering her seat into a lying position.

"Feel better?" He laughed at the now empty appearing seat.

"A little."

The skycar lifted easily into the air, joining the flowing traffic out of Segusk. Nausea tinged in Shepard's stomach as she felt it drop from the force. The back of her skull continued to burn and prickle. She sucked in an audible breath to work through the pain.

"It does feel weird chauffeuring someone I can't see," Vakarian said, attempting to cut the tension.

"Take what you can get," Shepard scoffed in return, annoyed at his slow driving, which only made her nausea worse.

The ride remained quiet as they crossed the empty space between Zakera and Aroch. Shepard lifted her seat back up to watch the gleaming purple lights of space between the two wards. Vakarian's eyes darted toward her at her movement and then back to the traffic ahead. Shepard ignored his glances and pressed her forehead into the window, still trying to find relief from the pain in her skull.

"So, where were you? You couldn't have been smoking for an entire hour," he asked, breaking the silence between them.

"I was um-," Shepard hesitated, "packing."

The steering wheel's leather creaked under Vakarian's tightening grip.

"I am panicking," Shepard said, trying to find the words to reassure him that she did not plan on running—yet.

"You hide it so well. Literally," Vakarian paused and looked over in her direction. "Look, Shepard, we can do this drug test and be done from there. I won't force you to work with me or the Reds."

Shepard shifted in her seat as she considered his offer. The Carinfex strap clamped and dug into her skin with the movement. She could run. And never see Speca again. And fail out of law school. And be completely homeless. All while, Finch would still be sure to follow with mercs on her ass for payment. Shepard winced at the thoughts. She did not even want to consider how Joshua would react.

"Like I said, I don't have a choice. The Reds would hunt me down one way or another."

"Is that what stopped you from running?"

"Speca. I need to know she's okay."

Vakarian's grip loosened on the steering wheel at her answer. "She's in an orphanage in Segusk. Social workers are looking into any family off the Citadel."

"Do you think she can go into my care until then?" Shepard asked. She knew it was a stupid question, but for the few seconds he didn't answer, she got to pretend like the kid could be in her care again—like the sleepovers they used to have when Aptis worked the night shift.

Vakarian's brow shot up at the question. "Turian governments are pretty strict on adoption. You have a drunk and disorderly conduct charge now, known afflictions with a gang, dishonorable discharge-"

"Less than honorable," Shepard corrected.

"Same thing to the Hierarchy. You're not exactly the ideal human candidate."

"So, in the meantime, she just rots there?"

Vakarian slowed the car more, descending down into a further part of Zakera's ward. His mandibles flicked out and dangled in the air. Almost as if he was considering something.

"Maybe we can try to squeeze something out of your community service. I know a few people. Some social workers who can look the other way on those charges."

"Really? Seriously?" Shepard questioned, fired out, excited yet nervous at the idea of seeing Speca again.

"Perks of C-Sec."

"Abuse of power in my favor. I like it."

"To help a kid, I'll abuse power all I want."

"Sure, only when it helps out a kid, not just your friends," Shepard said with a tinge of sarcasm.

In return, his mandibles tightened back to his jaw. His blue eyes flicked to her all for a second, but the look shot through her. There was sadness in that stare.

"Look, what happened to you with Allis—The other turian officer wasn't right. Again, I'm sorry. That falls under my leadership. He'll be getting a write-up with our executor."

Shepard scoffed, not expecting much of anything to happen with the officer. "Do write-ups do anything?"

"Honestly? Not really now. But it can, in the long run. Besides beating the crap out of him myself, a write-up is all I have in my power."

"Well, I'm not expecting you to defend my honor. But thank you for that-" Shepard bit her tongue, stopping herself from saying 'for doing your job.' Instead, she surprised herself and said, "And really, thank you, Garrus, for Speca."

"Thank me by not being late next time," he said, his mandibles opened back up into a small smile.

"Patience," Shepard laughed, dissipating her cloak. "I'm cooperating with you now. See? That's got to count for something?"

"For once," Garrus said, with his mandibles still stretched out.

They parked outside the lower ward's clinic in an empty lot. Besides scuffed painted metal and signs pointing them toward the clinic, the ward's walls lay bare. Shepard's pounding headache subsided in the clear ward, with only the long kinetic windows looking down on her. The Citadel's ward arms hung suspended in view. Skyscrapers stretched for miles in sight, the buildings all lit with activity. For the first time today, she felt like she could breathe. Garrus nudged her along from the view and into the cramped clinic.

A human woman with red hair, almost of similar length and shade to Shepard, beamed with wide eyes at Garrus. Her lab coat swooshed loudly as she turned her whole body towards him.

"Oh, Garr-Officer Vakarian," She stumbled in her words, peering down at his clothes."It's good to see you again. Off duty today?"

"I wish, actually, I need to call in that favor. Do you have the time?"

"Of course, anything for you." She darted over, grasping his shoulder with knitted brows. "Is everything okay?"

"Well, I have a-uh, um friend." He really stretched the definition of the word. "We're in need of some testing and medical care, off the record, if that's possible?"

Dr. Michel turned to Shepard, finally acknowledging her presence. "Oh, yes, I can do that," the doctor said, backing away from Garrus. Her face bloomed into a dark pink as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Holy shit.

Shepard stifled a laugh at the realization—the doc was into him.

"Hi," Shepard said with a swallowed grin.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. I'm Dr. Michel. Let's get you in the back, Miss-?

"Just Shepard is fine, off the record, right?" Shepard asked with an attempt at a wink that went unnoticed with her swollen eye.

"We can figure something out," the doc beamed a smile, ushering Shepard to follow.

Shepard looked back at Garrus, who took a seat in the lobby, none the wiser of the doctor's behavior toward him.

The doctor escorted Shepard back into a lone room with various ill-repaired machines and a beaten patient table. A small volus nurse glided around the room, setting up trays of medications and tools. He made his way out, humming along into the next patient room.

"So, Shepard, tell me what brings you in today." While pitched high in the lobby, the doctor's voice had now cooled to a professional yet welcoming tone.

"It's nothing, really. It's just two nights ago, I drank too much. Vak-Officer Vakarian wanted to be sure it wasn't something else. Make sure I wasn't drugged or anything. I uh-didn't really want to go through C-Sec."

"Understandable, they can be hard to work with. Garrus is, luckily, one of the good ones."

"If you say so."

The doctor's red brows knitted in concern. "Why do you say that? Do you need help? I can say I need to keep you here overnight to get you aw-"

"What happened to him being a good one?" Shepard laughed out, shocked by her quick turn.

"A C-Sec officer, even a friend, comes in asking for something off record. I'm going to question it," she said while scanning Shepard over with her omni-tool. "And with a patient in front of me roughed up and scared-"

"What? I'm not scared," Shepard protested in annoyance.

"Then what is going on?"

"Garrus is fine. He's trying to help, at least. Just-" Shepard sighed. "There's a lot of outside forces messing with my life at the moment."

"I see. Well, a few years ago, I had some outside forces, too. He was helpful then, and I hope he is as helpful for your sake as well," the doctor said, eyes focused now on Shepard's scans. Her brows still knitted tight.

"Everything okay? Am I gonna lose the eye, doc?"

Her brows relaxed with a small smile. "Don't be so pessimistic. Let me get you started on some subdermal medi-gel." She picked up a syringe and cleaned Shepard's face with small wipes, placing small stinging stabs around her eye. "Continue with topical medi-gel and ice at home. I am more worried about your implant, though. Any headaches lately?"

"I mean, I am still recovering from a hangover," Shepard quipped.

"You know what I mean, pain at the base of your skull? How about fainting spells? Are you seeing or hearing things?"

"It's fine." Shepard's lips turned to a tight frown, trying to ignore the building pressure at her spine and skull.

"It just with off-market implants like yours-"

"I said it's fine, doc," Shepard cut her off. "Surgery is off the table, so there's not much else I can do."

"Just please take the biotics easy, okay?"

"Scout's honor. I'll only use them if absolutely necessary or if someone annoys me."

A laugh escaped her lips, and her eyes crinkled upward. "On that note, I'll have Renun finish up with you. But seriously, if you need anything, come back to the clinic." She rested her hand on Shepard's shoulder and carefully squeezed before leaving.

The nurse hissed and hummed around Shepard to assess her vitals. A needle punctured into her arm, and dark red blood flowed and filled multiple colorful tubes. God damn, did she hope these tests won't come back to bite her in the ass. Or worse, learn she was actually drugged. Which left the burning question: Who did it? She ignored the voice in her head, asking if it could have been Aptis.

Shepard rubbed her arm where she had been pricked as she walked out to the waiting room. Garrus sat going over a datapad, busying himself. The green and yellow suit still left much to be desired. But she felt her vision clear slightly, opening her left eye for the first time that day. Shepard couldn't help but note he at least looked better out of C-Sec's bulky armor.

"So trust me to go on my own this time? Promise I won't be late. Finch isn't as forgiving," Shepard said.

"Again, it's up to you if you still want to work with me," Garrus retorted.

"Only if you change out of your "I'm not a cop' outfit."

Garrus' brow rose in a look of confusion, looking down at the brightly colored outfit. "This is my best suit."

"Nice to know you wear your Sunday best to stakeouts, Vakarian."

"What do clothes have to do with days?" He asked in an unamused tone.

"Never mind, maybe just find something in a darker shade? Black and white. Those colors would fit you better for Chora's."

Garrus flicked out his mandibles in response, almost as if he were annoyed. "Fine, I'll be early to get situated too."

"Try to snag a seat by the back doors near the strippers."

"You take me to such lovely places," Garrus deadpanned while ushering them out of the clinic back into the sparse ward.

"Spas, strip clubs. Let's try out a casino next."

"On C-Sec's dime?" Garrus asked.

"You catch on quick. A casino is better than a clinic any day, even if the doctors are so caring." Shepard placed emphasis on the last word.

"Well, Dr. Michel is one of the good doctors on the ward and helps as much as she can. She's been a good friend over the years," Garrus said innocently, not understanding what Shepard's inflection implied.

"Friend?" Shepard asked, her eyebrow raised up, trying to coax more information out of him. She was having too much fun with it.

"Yeah, she's kept insisting for years about owing me a favor after helping with a blackmail case. About time I used it."

"Oh, she owes you something, alright," Shepard laughed, pulling up her omni-tool.

"What do you mean?" Garrus asked, head cocked to the side. Shepard again tried to stifle another laugh. So he didn't know that the doc was totally into him.

"Oh, nothing," Shepard said with a smirk while activating her cloak.

"I hate when you do that."

"See you at Chora's, preferably in a new outfit," Shepard said, already running off towards a public shuttle.

Garrus sat alone at a circular booth of Chora's den. Dancers in tight red outfits strutted around the back tables, but Garrus kept himself in the booth, facing only toward the front door. A half shot of Palaven whiskey, watered-down with ice cubes, sat untouched in front of Garrus. Pain crept and held tight on his neck. He needed this sting to go right.

To elude suspicion, Garrus wore a fringe cover and visor off. And now, an older black suit with silver trimmings for Shepard's sake of mind. However, the lack of visual input from his visor placed him over the edge. Five years ago, his left eye had taken shrapnel damage during his time on the Resolute. He hardly went a day without it to help compensate for his vision. Without it, his surroundings fuzzed and glazed over on the left side.

The low lighting of dark blue and red hues did not help his vision either. A light blue asari in shining leather trailed her hand along his table, but she kept walking in his disinterest. Two krogan thugs grumbled and lined the back walls, eyeing him in the booth. Of all the stakeouts he'd down for C-Sec, this one had him out of his elements. Garrus took one small sip, barely letting the drink touch his tongue to blend in.

An unfocused, slender figure dashed towards Garrus. His hand reflexively went to his hidden holster at the movement.

A silver-toned turian woman in green garb slid in the side opposite of him. The red hues of Chora's bounced off and glittered on her white and silvered face plates. Dark red tattoos slicked down her eyes, meeting the edge of her mouth plate on both sides.

"Drowning your thoughts?" Her dual tones pitched up in a playful manner.

Crap.

"Um-uh, just here for a drink after work." Garrus really hadn't expected to be approached.

"In a strip bar, with no dancer around you?"

Double crap.

"Uh-"

"Don't worry, I'm no dancer. I'm not propositioning you."

"Oh, uh, I wasn't assuming you were, not that you couldn't be, I wasn't implying uh-"

Triple crap. That came out wrong.

"Let me stop you there, I'm Selia." She laughed, tilting her head, almost as if she was waiting.

"Oh, um, Caeus. I'm Caeus." Garrus panicked, throwing out the name of an old uncle.

"Sounds like you had to reassure yourself on that one."

"No, no, you just, um, you surprised me, is all."

"Good or bad?" She asked with a lidded gaze.

"Well, I'll just have to hope for good for now, huh?"

"Good answer."

"Selia, stop fucking around!" A male turian called from several booths over with the back of another female turian's yellow crest facing Garrus.

"Sorry, duty calls. Maybe next time, Caeus?"

"Uh-sure, anytime."

"Too cute." she laughed, dragging her talons across the table before leaving.

If he hadn't been working a case, he would have downed the drink in front of him. His leg shook, scraping his spur up against the back of the leather seat.

Garrus continued to stew within the booth. An asari and a human in red leather outfits walked by, watching him. He kept his head down and focused on the watered-down drink to avoid inviting any other strangers into his private booth.

Within ten minutes, a short, stalky human with a clean-cut crest and a crooked, fixed smile walked in. A duffle bag dangled from his shoulders. As if he couldn't be more obvious of a drug drop. The dim neon red lights lit a taller figure in a dark dress. Even without his visor, Garrus recognized the figure as Shepard, as the dress covered all but her arms, where linear scars wrapped around hard, pale muscles. She walked several feet behind Finch, with a blank, empty scowl, purposely away from Garrus. Her hurt eye peeking out slightly.

They nodded to the krogans at the back and disappeared behind sliding doors. A signal pinged in his comm indicated Shepard had settled into place, followed by three quick chimes, each representing another person in the back room beside her and Finch—Two versus three.

Chora's den had been an open secret and a hotbed of criminal activity, but having an actual informant working within it was new to the C-Sec record. A pit grew in Garrus' stomach. A small voice pointed, and judgment pricked at his mind.

Working all the angles, aren't you? Putting a citizen in danger.

Garrus tried to shake the voice off, rationalizing that Shepard would be doing this anyway. At least now, she had some form of backup in case things went wrong.

"Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with us again. I would like to apologize for the delay. You know how this business can get." Finch's shrill voice slicked into Garrus' comm piece.

"Get to the point. Let us see the product," A gruff human voice clipped.

A pale human hand slammed onto Garrus' table, pulling him away from the conversation.

"Vakarian! You dog, I thought that was you. I didn't think you had this kind of place in you," A balding, light-skinned human slurred the scent of vodka at Garrus. Not just any human, Harkin, a twenty-year veteran of C-Sec.

Garrus' right mandible clicked in irritation at the stench. Harkin stumbled into the deep, plush leather seats where Selia sat. He wore a splotched and wrinkled blue shirt half tucked into black jeans—C-Sec coloration.

"Are you on duty?" Garrus tried to sound welcoming with a whisper, but he doubted Harkin picked up on his hostile dual tones.

"You could say that." He paused, finishing a drink that he had on hand. "So I hear you got promoted. You leading cases now with Investigations, like dear old dad?

"As of a year ago, Harkin, old news," Garrus clipped in a less welcoming tone, not liking where the conversation was heading and how loud Harkin's voice boasted. He tried to focus back on Shepard's feedback, but all he could hear over the comms was shuffling, most likely counting product.

"What, I've been doing Citadel Security when you were still in diapers or whatever you turians use. Just weird seeing a pup get promoted so soon, is all."

Finch's voice broke out over the comms. "So we good here? Chit or credits?"

"Wait one second. The trade was delayed by almost over a week. That affects our business, and we expected timely delivery," the gruff voice clipped over again. Garrus focused, his translator working overtime as he concentrated on blocking out Harkin's blathering.

"Like I said, there were hiccups in production," Finch replied.

"We were thinking of a 40% discount."

Harkin snapped his fingers inches from Garrus' face, his hands calloused with peeling skin.

"Were you listening, Vakarian? You turians like the asari, too, right? Why don't we get you to dance as a toast to your promotion?"

Spirits, this was an absolute nightmare.

"No, I'm okay. I just wanted a drink after work, Harkin," Garrus whispered.

Finch's voice whined, pulling Garrus's attention away from Harkin. "Now, let's be reasonable here-"

"We can always go for a 100% discount." The voice sneered, and rustling noises cut over the comms. Garrus stopped himself from grabbing his pistol in front of Harkin. The last thing he needed was the drunk poking around in his investigation.

"Ahh, I get that." Harkin cheered and downed the last remaining drop of his drink. "Got to be careful with that. C-Sec will grind you for all you're worth," the walking embodiment of nonfunctioning alcoholism laughed out.

Finch's voice slithered out even and cool into Garrus' comm. "Shep, can you talk some reason into our friends?"

A loud sigh cut over the conversation. Shepard's flat voice finally spoke into the comms. "Fine."

Static crackled and hummed in his comm piece, followed by stilled-like groans erupting over the call. The back doors slid open to two muscular and well-armed humans running out. Eyes cast over in milky white. Purple and blue lights hitched around their form as they dashed out of Chora's den.

Harkin's laugh stopped as they ran out. The krogans pulled their shotguns out and readied at the back door.

"Next time, Vakarian, we'll keep this on the hush with Pallin, huh?" Harkin winked and ran off towards the back door, talking to the guards. They eased their stance and let Harkin through.

Selia's head turned towards him from the commotion. With his vision hazed, her facial plates were hard to read. But her mandibles flicked out as she whispered to the male turian, head nodding towards Garrus.

"All payment is upfront. This is a trade, not a negotiation." Shepard's voice barked.

"What the fuck! What the fuck did you do to them?"

The pounding of flesh on steel echoed as Shepard spoke. "Give them a few minutes, and they'll be fine as long as they don't walk into traffic. So? Chits or credit?"

Shepard's voice cut through in a detached but dark tone. Who the hell was Garrus dealing with?

"Get your hands off me!" The gruff voice spat out. "Fine! credit, fucking freak!"

Finch's high-pitched voice squealed. "Thank you for doing business. Try to pull any bullshit again, and she won't be so nice next time. Anything you want to add, Shep?"

"I'm fine. Send the wire, and let's get this done with."

"You good here, Finch?" Harkin's voice slurred over the comms. Garrus rubbed his brow plates with a long sigh.

"Perfect," Finch hissed out.

Garrus took a swig of his watered-down drink. This just got a lot more complicated.