A/N: I was intrigued by Garrus's evolution as a character in ME2, and by his obviously suicidal plans on Omega. What had changed him? How had he come to this? Shepard was my answer, and this is the result. Planning eventual graphic "scenes" towards end, so consider yourself warned.

Also, this is my first fanfic, so all comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated and enthusiastically welcome. And as always, the characters belong to Bioware.

Chapter 1: First Impressions

It has been said among some cultures that first impressions are everything. It has also been said that appearances can be deceiving. Teandra Shepard was a prime example of the truth behind both these statements. Most humans, especially ones as small as this one, would never have approached much less spoken to a turian radiating anger as I surely was. Glaring, I glanced from that idiot Pallin ("barefaced ben'jee" I thought) to see the newcomers approaching, my eyepiece automatically registering my adrenaline spike and calculating the trajectory needed to eliminate the three targets. Short in stature, Shepard would have been nondescript to me except for the air of danger and vulnerability that surrounded her, making her appear as both predator and prey all at once.

Peering up through a shock of red hair that curtained her face, she watched me gather myself and say, "Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian. I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren."

Blue eyes took in my aggressive stance, and it was obvious she was calculating the best way to respond so as so appear empathetic, not at trait I was used to seeing in most of her kind. My former partner Shelaya nonwithstanding, of course.

"Sounds like you really want to bring him down," she said with a nod towards the retreating Executor. The unspoken way she grasped my anger at both Pallin and Saren caught my attention, making me slightly more frank than I normally would have been to someone I only knew of by name, and then only from recent reports.

"Something about him rubs me the wrong way. But he's a spectre, everything he touches is classified. I can't find any hard evidence." By the damn Spirits, I'd only needed another day at most. My sources were bringing me closer and closer. I was about to speak again when the male with Shepard chimed in. He was taller than Shepard by about a head, and had a possessive look towards her that made all of my detective's radars go off.

"Sounds like the Council is ready for us Commander," he stated pointedly.

"Good luck, Shepard. Maybe they'll listen to you."

I was proud of myself for keeping the bitterness out of that last.

As the three walked away, I stalked towards the exit, working on formulating a plan of action. My muddled thoughts carried me all the way to my office, frustration biting at my heels. No way was I giving up this investigation so easily, especially not because of some arbitrary ruling by the Council. Look where that had gotten me with Saleon. Saren was a turian, a dishonest turian at that, and that made this personal. If his actions were as horrendous as I was beginning to suspect, he was violating every code our species lived by; everything that was ingrained in us from birth. Idly, I pulled up the screen at my desk, skimming with mild curiosity the information C-Sec's databases contained on Shepard. Anyone involved in taking Saren down was a potential ally. And after the run of assignments I'd received lately, one impossible to solve case after another, failure was not an option. My brain summarized the information:

Born on the streets of Earth, no family, no connections. Joined the military at 15, against military regulations but with the support of war hero Anderson. Quick rise through the ranks. Perfect marks on the sniper range. High marks on the pistol and grenade ranges. Passable with an assault rifle and shotgun.

One word jumped out at me. Akuze. That was where the holovids I recalled came from. That would explain the air of vulnerability. It takes a special sort of someone to survive losing their whole unit, even among turians where military is a way of life. I continued to scan the page.

Recently reassigned as the Normandy XO. Mission Classified.

Of course, why wouldn't the information be readily available? Since everything else had been so easy lately.

Attached to the file was a holo, taken after Akuze according to the caption. I took in her features much as I had her history.

Chin length auburn hair, loose, pushing human military regulations if I recalled correctly. Piercing cerulean eyes sunken by lack of sleep, food deprivation, and shock. A set to the shoulders which gave the impression of a fortress holding by only a few more supports, but holding none the less. Yes, this Shepard was a portrait of contradiction. I snorted, noting the pale tone to her skin and pitying the human ambassadors that were scheduled to visit Palaven that week, if that was all the protection they had.

Still focused, I heard my screen ping.

Message: Dr. Michel. Ah, one of my contacts. Idly, I opened the message, only to be taken back by both the length and the contents.

I have been compromised! Come at once!

"A lead!" My brain registered, only belatedly wondering for the woman's safety.

I was already holstering my pistol as I went out the door.