A/N: This story is very unfinished. It's highlights of the bits that I had written. Around chapter 12/13 or so, there are huge gaps of time that were skipped over because I never wrote the rest of it. I know I'm not going to finish this story - I have too many other obligations to tend to. But I did like what I had written, and it seemed a shame to keep them stored on my computer forever. It's always my hope that at least one other person will get some sort of enjoyment out of what I've written, which is why I'm sharing this unfinished tale in the first place.

Please excuse the lack of a full polish and the gaps in time where things aren't fully explained.

As always, I really hope you enjoy something out of all these words. Please feel free to leave a review with your thoughts or comments - I read everything, and always appreciate what others have to say!

A pristine room inside the Citadel Security offices, totally void of any clutter and personalization, was currently getting a makeover.

Only moments ago he had been the epitome of serenity as he took calculated steps through his office door. The door had slid shut with a barely-audible click, and even then he had managed to retain some sense of self. He took in several deep breaths, chanted a random mantra he had learned during his time in the military, clenched and unclenched his fists to try and keep his cool…but something inside of him snapped despite his efforts, and very soon after he found himself tearing through his desk to find anything and everything that wouldn't break if thrown. He then made it a personal goal to find a way to bust the goddamn things in any conceivable way possible.

He wasn't predisposed to this sort of outrage. These childish tantrums were beneath him, he knew that, but today could be a special exception.

So many years of frustration in a dead-end job that weighed him down with all its red tape and paperwork just to help pay medical bills, so many months of following a hunch that Saren was dirty despite nobody believing him, so many months of trying, and now, because he ran out of time, none of it mattered. He had the cat in the bag with this one, as all the humans working at C-Sec said, but he had taken too long and the stupid feline had clawed its way out. Again.

Minutes of attempted destruction passed before a sudden thought paralyzed him. It wasn't over 'til it was over, right? If he could convince the Councilor to wait, even for a day, then surely he could get his job done. There was no doubt in his mind that another twenty-four hours would guarantee his success. It would guarantee that maybe this job could do some good after all; maybe he could rein in some of the bad guys, for a change. If it meant saving his sanity, saving the little faith he had left in Citadel Security, then surely it must be worth a shot?

Confident steps had him out of his office in seconds, leaving behind a mess of paperwork and bad memories in the hopes of doing some real good. He knew he shouldn't hold his breath – nothing ever seemed to work out the way he wanted it to with these high-profile cases – but there was a firm belief inside him that Saren would be brought to justice, that Garrus would be proven right about the Spectre's crooked ways, and that the Turian race in general could prove that they weren't as idiotic as Garrus was starting to believe they were.

But, twenty minutes later, he found that he placed too much confidence in his feelings. He was shot down by Pallin; his request for more time fell on deaf and unwilling ears. Of course the damn executor wouldn't give Garrus more time – Pallin might as well have been Saren's bitch for the way this bastard defended him.

A fist formed without him realizing it, and by the time Pallin told him that his investigation was over Garrus wasn't so sure that he could withhold the sudden urge to deck the smarmy piece of shit down. To his credit, he managed to withhold his urges for two seconds longer than he thought possible, giving Pallin the needed time to turn his back and walk away before his face got beaten in.

Another long, slow exhale. Damn. Almost lost it.

Then again, who could blame him? Years spent in this job and he had relatively little to show for it. Sure, he'd tracked down some criminals and drug smugglers, a couple slavers here and there, but they were all petty crimes compared to others he was in charge of. For all those big cases, he had few arrests to show for it, and not because of any failures on his part. No, the blame laid solely with C-Sec and their inability to act in a timely and effective manner; how they stalled for these wealthy or well-known people, dancing around the issue so that they wouldn't land their asses in hot water.

Damn it all, C-Sec was supposed to provide security for the people and instead it had to act like a political entity!

A strange sensation, like eyes were watching the back of his head, made Garrus acutely aware that he was not alone here. He turned his head slightly to the right and noticed that three humans stood there, watching him with curious expressions.

He turned to gawk back, hoping to make them uncomfortable so they'd leave him to his smoldering rage, but as his eyes scanned the figures before him a few things began to click.

There were two women and one man, all human, but the woman at the front was the one capturing his attention right now. She wasn't as tall as the other two, her posture wasn't as hostile, her body looked like that of a young but highly muscular boy, and yet her stance still screamed of confidence. A once-straight nose crinkled with her curving mouth; the scar across her lips stretched thin when she grinned at him and his ill-concealed fury.

This woman was none other than Commander Shepard: the one who brought forth the accusations against Saren, the one that helped to confirm Garrus' suspicion that something just wasn't right with that Spectre. Shepard was the one who made his months of off-duty investigating come to a head, the one who made it all seem worthwhile while it lasted.

Opportunities were something that he was always able to sense and this one was simply too good to be true. He leaped at his chance, explaining the situation in a calm that belied his growing frustrations and anxieties. Maybe he couldn't do anything, but that didn't matter at the moment. Right now he wanted to see some justice get served to that sneaky son-of-a-bitch turian that felt he was above the law, and his only chance to do so stood before him wearing a cloak of careful indifference.

He knew that humans were determined creatures when their mind was focused on the task. All Garrus could hope for was that this woman was as determined as he was to bring Saren in to pay for his crimes.

"Maybe they'll listen to you," he said, cringing at the inflection of hope that had edged into his voice.

She gave an absent sigh and didn't say anything for several moments. Garrus couldn't deny that he was uncomfortable – he felt the sharp scrutiny of a dull green gaze, one that held more weight than an asari matriarch's.

Whatever she had been looking for must have been found because, after giving him an understanding nod, her eyes pivoted away from Garrus and looked up towards where the Council waited. A small groan escaped through parched lips before she jerked her head towards the stairs. "This is why I'm not a politician," she muttered darkly to her crew. "Too much red tape just to tell me to go kill somebody. I know how to get a goddamn job done."

The human male to Shepard's left smirked and the woman to the right could barely contain a snort of laughter. "Shit's about to hit the fan with the Councilors, eh?" the woman said as the three marched forward. Whatever Shepard's reply may have been was lost to Garrus as the distance between them increased, but the chorus of laughter that belonged to her followers did not escape his hearing.

Some small semblance of satisfaction embedded itself in his mind: somebody understood his frustration. Whether it be with politics or being shackled from getting the job done, in those few short moments that human woman seemed to express more empathy for Garrus than most others had during his career. It was hard to explain, really – many of those he worked with had voiced their objections to how C-Sec was run, but Shepard's eyes seemed to convey something that the others didn't.

A true, working knowledge of how useless the system really was?

He wasn't sure, but it gave him something to think about as he plodded down to the Wards. Maybe the system was pathetic in its own right. If that was the case, then perhaps it was time to leave the old ways behind and go about things in his own unique fashion.

Yeah, he thought, his fingers resting comfortably on his pistol. Time to start doing things my way. Time to get the job done.