A/N: So, this story needed revising. BADLY. But now it's done, in order to correct some continuity changes and such. Also, the bombs dropped in LoSB have been accounted for, if not in this story in the future ones, including the diffences in his teams names. They will be explained, trust me. Just be patient.

Now, onto the description. Garrus is so much darker of a character in Mass Effect 2 than in his first adventure with Shepard, and since Bioware saw fit to leave his development to our imagination, I obliged. Not sure how long the muse may possess me, but be prepared for a wild ride.

On a technical note, this story was planned as a sort of sequal to Partners, Comrades, Friends; Teandra is a paragon/earthborn/survivor, and she and Garrus have a relationship full of banter and comradarie, with a hint at some further attraction. A hint they both choose to ignore to save the friendship that means so much to them. Also, Teandra "romances" (I use the term VERY loosely) Kaiden and the Council survives the reapers in Mass Effect 1.

As always, everything belongs to Bioware, except my OC's. And your criticism help make me a better writer, and that gives you a better story.

"By superhuman effort, you can avoid slipping backwards for a while. But one day, you'll lose a step, or drop a beat, or miss a detail... and you'll be gone forever." -Oblivion

Chapter 1- Alpha

She was right. She was always right.

Staring at the document in front of me, I reveled in the pride it incited, a heady mixture of relief and triumph. Reading over the page again, I savored every line as if it were some flavorful turian wine to be enjoyed in sips:

Mr. Vakarian,

It is with great pleasure that we inform you your reapplication for consideration has been approved. Your service record and recent actions both lead us to believe that you would make a valuable asset to the Spectre Service. A representative of the council will contact you shortly to arrange an observation of your skills before your status can be fully initiated by the Council. That said we look forward to working with you Mr. Vakarian.

It was signed personally, much to my surprise, by the Councilor Sparatus himself.

I had never stopped to consider what the galaxy's view of the Normandy and her heroism would mean for me personally. The reality was that doors, and possibilities, opened up where none had been before. My continued existence no longer depended on the needs and demands of others. I was mercifully free to decide my own fate…my own destiny.

Reapplying for Spectre status was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Leave it to Teandra Shepard to pull that out of me, to discover a piece of my soul that had been missing. The opportunity had always been my "What if?"…, the turning point in my life where it became apparent that my father's hopes and dreams were more important than my own. I had wanted this, needed this, deserved it for all the years spent at someone else's beck and call.

The decision had not been easy, though. Leaving the Normandy's crew, and one particularly headstrong female commander, was a decision not to be made lightly. She had encouraged me in casual conversation, but I wondered if our close camaraderie would hinder her ability to let me go.

She walks into the galley, armor conspicuously missing but boots insistently clicking with her immediate need for food. Her auburn hair swings as she walks, head down and focused on a datapad. The reapers may be defeated for now, but the Normandy still has missions to run. Most of these are diplomatic in nature, showing off the multi-racial crew working under the hero of the galaxy herself. The council's recruitment efforts at their best; we are all just glad to be alive.

I gulp down the synthesized food. It's early, and I know Shepard and I won't have to worry about anyone else being up for another half hour or so. I have timed this in order to speak to her alone, hoping she'll understand why I need to ask this.

"Commander, may I speak with you?" I ask, deciding if she tells me she's busy I'll let the whole damn crazy idea go. She looks up, smiling a playful smile. Since Virmire, very few get that version of it, the one untouched by the sorrow of losing one of her crew.

"Of course, Garrus." She takes a seat opposite my own, putting down the datapad with a sigh of exasperation, "I'm not sure what time schedule the Council thinks we're on, exactly… Earth days only have 24 hours. There isn't enough time in the galaxy to be everywhere they want us to be at once."

I chuckle appreciatively, commenting, "I told you to let the Reapers take them out. If you'd listened to me you could be calmly relaxing on some beach somewhere."

"I could always try Palaven, eh? Diplomatic relations in a bikini… I like the idea, at least. Udina would have kittens, though." The human saying isn't lost on me. Our friendly, somewhat flirtatious banter has exposed me to many phrases that even my detective work, and my former partner, have never revealed. By the Damn Spirits, I was going to miss her. Friendships like ours are a once in a lifetime occurence.

"Commander," I said a little more forcefully, trying to stick to my decision before I lost my nerve, "remember when we talked about what I would do after we took out Saren? What I suggested?"

I could see her brain processing the question, the conversation retrieved from the catalogue of her mind. Wishing I couldn't read her quite so well, I saw her face harden minutely, a sure sign she was hiding something. Logically, I knew she will probably assume I am leaving to get away from her, hurt because of that Citadel party. That isn't the case at all. Being away from C-Sec has shown me that I need a chance to choose my own path...

"Back to C-Sec, Garrus? Bored with us already?" She sighs heavily, but still smiles at me in spite of her obvious distress, "I figured it was only a matter of time, actually. Wrex is already gone, and Tali won't be far behind. At least your father will be pleased…" She trails off, noticing she is rambling on and cutting the train of thought short, unsure of what to say. I snort good-naturedly.

"I'll never work for C-Sec again, little Spectre. Trust me. I was actually considering following in your own footsteps…" Her eyes widened slightly as the realization of what I was saying dawned on her. "Of course, finding a hot, turian woman who can be my second-in-command and snipe may be a difficult, but you found me, so…"

She punches me from across the table good naturedly, saying. "Vakarian, you're impossible. I'm gonna miss your smart ass… guess Joker will just have to work overtime."

Her words register. "I can go? I can give it a shot?"

"Garrus, I'm your commanding officer, not you're dad." She laughs, "Ooooh, he's gonna loooove this," the evil glint to her eyes is hilarious, especially considering the only thing he's ever done around her is insult me. Then she sobered, cerulean eyes trained on me as if to convey the seriousness of her words.

"Vakarian… Garrus… You know I'll miss you. Your practical jokes on Tali… Our sparring matches and sniper battles… your idiotic self-centered arrogance…"

I look at her .

"Okay, intelligent self-centered arrogance." She laughs as I crossed my arms, a tic I have picked up from her, a sure sign of irritation.

"Go live your dreams, Garrus. And if you find it's not for you, I'll always be here." Her words are an echo of my own, spoken a thousand times.

She stands, as if determined to take action before one of us changes our mind. "Joker?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Make for the Citadel…"

My memories were interrupted by a chime at my door. A visitor? Few people even knew I had secured a residence on the Citadel yet. The Normandy and her crew had been gone less than two weeks, and the repairs from the Battle of the Citadel a month before are still ongoing. As such, I'd found myself loathe to reestablish my contacts until I knew my stay wasn't just some fantasy in my head.

"Come in," I called, relying on the automated door system to open itself as I stood, shoulder plates twitching in minute protest at the extended time at the monitor. A face I would have never expected in a million years appeared through my doorway, in spite of his close relationship to Teandra.

"Anderson?" I'd only met him once or twice. I'd heard many stories from Shepard about him, though, since he'd recruited her for the alliance at the age of fifteen. It had taken her explaining that humans didn't usually enlist until they were older for this to even seem unusual to me. She had always given me the impression that the process had involved many waivers, as well as a few half truths. Any irregularities that were actually noticed wound up in front of Anderson, and disappeared. After all, he was a war hero, and that gave his word the ability to make things happen. Much like Shepard's own influence, nowadays.

"Officer Vakarian, I'm not very good at this kind of thing, so I'll get straight to the point." Breathing heavy, heart rate irregular my eyepiece said. His shoulders were slumped as if in defeat, his face fallen into a display of indescribable sorrow. "The Normandy was attacked at 0800 this morning. The crew escaped with minimal losses," his voice hitched on the word minimal.

"Teandra?" My voice was monotone, not registering the information fully yet.

"She managed to get almost everyone onto an escape shuttle, but Officer Moreau refused to leave the cockpit. She went back for him and got him into a pod, but… She's gone, Vakarian. I thought you'd like to hear it in person… I know how close you two were." I nodded my assent, barely hearing.

I just managed to get him out the door before my world crumbled.