I own nothing, Rated M for later chapters, review if you please.

Just a neat little idea I had, because who doesn't' love cops? XD


The pulsing beat of the music swept the club into a maelstrom of pheromones and darkness. The various species gyrated in time with the music, not all together gracefully. The air was thick with mixed body heat and scents of too many perfumes. Both naturally, and artificially created in the seemingly too small space. A lone figure sat, oblivious to the surroundings, staring into a glass filled with green liquid. Her brown hair tied into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder. The same shoulder whose twin hunched forward in dejection.

Shepard glanced around the seedy bar with something akin to apathy. 'Only, because apathy is so much easier to deal with than rejection,' she thought bitterly. Although, the bitterness was getting easier to swallow with each burning shot of 70 proof alcohols, it's still remained like a lump in the back of her throat. Slowly, she was suffocating in feelings that could no longer be shared. A small scowl settled over otherwise attractive features.

She, who had fought Saren, countless Geth, had been brought back to life, and was now on a mission to stop the collectors, could not get the one being in the entire galaxy she cared for; to want her in return. The foreign feeling of helplessness settled like a weight in the pit of her stomach. She gripped her glass a little harder. Soft flesh dug into the cold exterior of the container, as she lifted the miniscule weight to her pink lips, and slammed the contents down in one swift gulp.

It was completely unfair that Turians sniper's were so damn attractive, especially when they were awkward, but so lovable. Truly, Shepard couldn't help but feel that it was all Garrus's fault for making her love him. From the moment she had seen him arguing in the Citadel Tower, she had felt something for him. Those strange blue markings, coupled with the sharp alien features had just taken her by surprise. She had been way in over her head from the start. How was she supposed to know he had stolen her heart?

It had happened so gradually, she had never noticed. The quiet talks aboard the Normandy, while he spoke of his people and his past, had been joyous for her. There had never been any pomp or circumstance between them. There had been a healthy dose of mistrust to start with, she granted. However, that was more the result of the residual grudges from the First Contact War. Yet, in the moments between death and desperation, Shepard had felt something. That something continued as they fought their way across countless obstacles and trials. It had continued to grow until what had been something had become love. It seemed to Shepard that love had snuck up on her quicker than a geth ambush.

How did one stop themselves from falling in love anyway? She wasn't sure it was possible. Shepard gave a frail laugh of incredulity. It had not been the Reapers that laid her low, or even the Collectors, though they had killed her once. No, she had come to drink her sorrows away because of the single most beautiful force in all known cultures.

'Love! Love is an absolute bitch,' she snarled in her thoughts. Love had made her stupid. She had been content to die when she had. It was something she had never told another soul. Shepard had not been scared. She had been ready. Her crew was safe, and the foundation for saving all sentient life had been fairly laid out. Oh, regrets were only natural in your final moments, but she had been fortunate to have only one. 'Garrus,' the name was filled with longing and sadness even in her own mind.

Damn it all to hell and back! She had been content! So, when she had awoken in a Cerberus lab, it had been a bit of a shock. Shepard thought it was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances. Her memories, miraculously, had been intact. All of them, including the melodic sound of a certain Turian's laughter.

Her head slipped forward onto the bar, a soft thud accompanying the action. Shepard stared blankly at the countertop of the bar. She willed her mind not to follow down the train of memories it was on. However, even her strong will would not stop the landslide of fond memories. The images of Garrus laughing, joking, and stumbling through their time together flashed through her like the lightening of a summer storm. That storm lead to the wreck of her last talk with him aboard the Normandy 2. One of the few times he hadn't been in the middle of 'calibrations'.

"Bastard," she whispered quietly, unheard over the pounding music. The lights flashed in multi-color glory as she lifted her head from the bar. Her back straightened from years of military training, and emotion-filled eyes scanned the room.

"Genuine inquiry, are you alright human?" The Elcor bartender asked tonelessly.

Shepard gave him a weak grin. "Yeah, thanks. I think I might have had a bit too much," she explained sheepishly.

"Amused, you may be correct."

"I usually am," the sour note of her voice didn't register with the Elcor, who turned away to assist another patron.

Shepard sighed to herself. Sometimes talking with the Elcor was entertaining, now however, it failed to get her mind off the last 'talk' she had. A talk, where Garrus had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was not interested. OH, he respected her a great deal, but he didn't have a 'thing' for humans. Shepard slid her eyelids closed against the fresh wave of hurt.

She had been so sure he returned her interest. All the signs had been there. He had wanted to join her on every mission. She had even come back to this damn Citadel for him. That was the whole reason why there were here. It was also why she was drinking away her sorrows at Flux. Well, Flux was the casino upstairs, but Shepard just called the whole thing by the Casino's name. It was easier that way.

She needed more things to be 'easy' in her life.

She thrummed her fingers on the countertop as she slipped back into her thoughts. It wasn't Garrus's fault he didn't share her feelings. It wasn't Tali's fault that she was built like a freaking goddess, and Turians really liked Quarians. It just…just… well, it hurt… a lot. She had been a good friend and commander, pretending it didn't bother her in the slightest when Garrus told her of his attraction to Tali. She had even encouraged him.

God what was she thinking?

What she had really wanted to do, behind the faked smile, was walk down into engineering and scratch that wench's eyes out. Suit be dammed! But, that wasn't what a friend did. And, she was only his friend. Shepard had reminded herself of that eight times since walking through the airlock of the Citadel. Instead, she had chosen to excuse herself, offering words of understanding, and flee to find the strongest alcohol she could in the darkest part of the Citadel.

Mission: Success.

A small smile played on her lips as she felt the air next to her move. Her blue eyes turned toward a strangely familiar face. However, Shepard thought he should have been in armor, and not civilian clothes. Perhaps, it was his attire that threw her recognition into the wind?

"Commander Shepard," the intruder stated matter-of-factly.

Perhaps it was the booze, but she couldn't quite place his name. "Evening," she replied flippantly, her body swinging to face him.

"Evening," he responded calmly, his white markings creating a stark contrast in the darkness and colored lights.

"Hm," Shepard acknowledged.

"It is good to see you are still alive," his head tilted to the side for a moment, "Reports said you were dead."

"Imagine that," the amused comment floated between them.

"Why do I have the feeling there is more to that report than you are letting on," his predatory features contorted in interest.

"My, you are a smart one, aren't you? Mr…?"

His mandibles twitched in amusement. "Detective Chellick," he prompted after a moment.

Shepard glanced sideways for a moment in embarrassment, then back to the Turian speaking to her. "I knew that," she arched a brow at him cockily; "Did you need something?"

His eyes focused on her lips momentarily, before moving slightly closer. His mandibles twitched what it signified, Shepard couldn't quite make out. "Actually, I was hoping you would help out, like you did for Jenna, and her sister."

'Like I did for who?' Shepard puzzled over the name. It sounded oddly familiar. She furrowed her browns in concentration. 'Oh! The bartender at that seedy gentleman's club!' She concluded shrewdly. Honestly, she only vaguely recalled that, but she did remember Chellick now. He had been a major ass about the whole thing. However, work, was work.

And right now, she would much rather be working than drowning her sorrows.

"I'd be honored," she stated sincerely. She hoped fervently, that there would be people to kill for whatever it was that he needed from her.

His mandibles flared for a moment, and Shepard stared at them in interest. Turians really were rather fascinating. With their tiny waists, and sharp teeth, scales, and markings which never ceased to amaze her with their meanings.

"Good," he said drawing even closer, "It's a bit of undercover work. I need you to play along with me here. There are four mercs behind you watching us," his clawed hand inched toward hers on top of the counter, "I'm trying to infiltrate their ranks, and they have been a bit suspicious tonight. I am almost positive my cover has been blown, but I won't be able to get out of here without a body count, without you. I need you to let me get close to you, and then we can leave together."

Shepard's breath caught in her throat as his hand closed around hers. She looked up into his features, so close to Garrus's and yet so very different. She swallowed nervously, and her cheeks flamed with embarrassment for where her thoughts had gone. A rush of desire pooled between her legs, and Shepard shifted uncomfortably. Her hazel eyes flashed up to his suddenly still posture. His face was vaguely questioning.

'Right… Turians have a better sense of smell,' she chastised herself quickly. From what she had been able to gather from the extranet, turians could smell pheromones and this close; the detective could most definitely smell hers. 'Act like nothing happened. Do not engage! Do not engage,' her mind screamed.

Shepard shook herself from the booze and memory induced haze. This was a serious request, and people's lives were at stake. A flirtatious smile twisted on her lips, and she leaned forward. She shyly glanced down, and then back at him, taking a moment to steal a look in the direction of the mercenaries Chellick had just spoken about. They were rather well armed for just coming to a bar. It could get ugly, and quickly if they didn't play this right.

Shepard reached her free hand up to twirl a lock of her hair confined within the ponytail. A miniscule nod was given to tell Chellick she was going to assist him. His entire posture relaxed and Shepard let out a laugh.

"With compliments like that, it's a wonder any woman can keep her distance from you," she purred sexily.

His eyes glowed into hers in equal parts business and attraction. Shepard suppressed a shiver of delight. She had longed for such a look from another, but for a few moments, it would not hurt to pretend Chellick was… someone else.

"Maybe that is what I was going for," he rumbled as his other hand caught a lock of her hair, gently feeling it.

Her cheeks flushed under the blatant sexual overture. She licked her lips, watching his eyes follow the motion.

"What else are you going for?"

His mandibles flared once more in surprise. Shepard moved closer to him, her fingers traced the white markings on his face. His skin was so warm to her touch. The texture was like leather, but comforting in a strange way.

"What else are you offering?"

His question almost didn't register. Shepard pulled down on the collar of his civilian clothes. Her lips just a fraction away from his mouth, as her desire budded into full blown want.

"Whatever you think you can take, turian," she whispered intently.

A deep rumbling started from his chest, and suddenly she was pulled from her chair. "Keep calm they are still watching us," he reminded her as his mandibles descended on her neck. His sharp teeth ghosted over her sensitive flesh.

Shepard tried to force the rush of need from her mind. She had not been this close to anyone physically in years, even before her death. She had been so busy chasing after Garrus; she hadn't given Kaidan a chance. Then she had died, rather suddenly, leaving little opportunity for romance. Then she was shoved back into life, and missions, still trying to chase after a certain turian.

Who was decidedly, not the turian nibbling on her neck at this moment. Her body came to life under the simple contact. Shepard could not stop herself from pressing against him with a whine of need. She could tell he was surprised by the reaction, because he pulled her even closer to him until she was flush with his body. If it pleased him, she couldn't say. A tiny moan escaped her lips and she tilted her head to give him better access.

His strong hands grasped her hips, and his talons poked through the thin fabric separating them. Dimly, she was still aware of the number of people around them, and the beat that kept pumping like a fire in her blood. Reflexively, she ground her hips into his with a whimper. Her eyes closed and she imagined a different face, with bright blue markings. Her desire spiked painfully at the image.

Her hands sought to feel him, this stand in for the one she truly wanted, and her mouth opened in a silent plea for more sensation. Shepard gripped him tighter, squirming against him to alleviate the frustration that was building within her.

"Please," she whispered hotly, "touch me."

A low growl was emitted at her words. His taloned fingers ran down the length of her sides, and he began to nuzzle the flesh he had just been feasting upon. It was bittersweet, and so very welcome. The differences between them seemed to fade as she was swept up into a hurricane of touch, and taste. Her hands pulled on his face to meet hers. Shepard snuck her tongue out to taste his mandibles as they twitched under her ministrations.

He groaned as she reached back to stroke his fringe with great enthusiasm. The extranet had given her several interesting tips, even though she had planned to use them on Garrus. She supposed that Chillick would not mind terribly much. She gasped when he bucked against her; a strange movement came from his nether region. Almost as if something were moving under his plates,

"With Humor, perhaps you two should go somewhere more private," the interruption startled them both.

Chellick snarled angrily at the Elcor bartender who didn't even blink. Shepard blushed, realizing that they had been dry humping each other in full view of everyone else. She was mortified that she had forgotten about the mercs, who were staring at them with mixed looks of horror and lust.

"Let's get out of here," the husky voice purred in her ear.

She shivered in response. Her blood was cooling too slowly for her to think straight. Her hazel eyes were most likely dilated, showing her physical attraction to everyone present.

"Alright," she managed to reply, a little breathlessly.

His nearly unbelievably strong grip encased her hand. Shepard felt herself being tugged swiftly out of the establishment. Her mind was in a haze. She shook herself mentally, reminding herself that this had been a ploy, and as soon as they were clear of the mercs she would have to go back to the Normandy.

Back to Garrus, the turian who didn't want her.

She stumbled a bit, and found herself slammed up against the nearest wall. Chillick was breathing hotly on her shoulder. His head was bowed and a low growl had torn itself out of his throat. Shepard felt her heart skip a beat at the predatory sound. Her mind blanked in confusion as she felt another thrust against her.

She gasped at the pressure against her swollen zone. She felt his hands as they moved around the exposed areas of her skin.

"So soft," he moaned as he rubbed against her, "are all humans this soft?"

Shepard bucked against him, in time with his movements. His head snapped up and he stared at her with darkened eyes. She trembled under his touch. His talons scraped along her skin in a sensual sort of roughness.

"I don't know," she answered his question honestly, " I'm used to the feel of my own skin."

Her hands sought out his plates, caressing them, and the common turian pleasure zones as he pinned her against the wall with his body. He felt so odd, compared to another human. He felt… tougher, and somehow more masculine than any other she could remember. Shepard tried so hard not to picture blue markings on his face.

His eyes were wild, and hot. His mandibles opened and closed quickly, suggesting he was out of breath. His pale plates looked nothing like Garrus's and it made her heartache slightly. She desperately wanted Chellick to be someone else, and that wasn't fair.

"Shepard," he called her name like a plea, "I've never… wanted a human like this before." His voice was strained as if the admission wounded him somehow. She knew he had a less than stellar opinion on humans.

Oddly, it didn't seem to matter right now.

"Chellick," she said, her voice carrying her understanding and her need.

"Detective Chellick?"

Shepard snapped her focus in the direction of the questioner. Her eyes widened at the object of her affection looking more furious than she had ever seen him. Even when talking about Sidonis. Her heart plummeted into the soles of her feet.

Chellick snarled angrily once more before his features returned to being calm. "Vakarian? Is that You?"

Garrus's mandibles tightened in anger. "Yes, Sir," he all but hissed, "It's me."

His piercing blue eyes swung between them, and Shepard pushed lightly on Chellick, who backed up instantly.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me what you are doing with Commander Shepard?" the quiet fury and dignity poured from each word like rain.

Chellick gave him an unreadable look, and Shepard felt at a loss.

"The Commander was helping me with some undercover work," he replied easily. His stance shifted to block her from Garrus.

"That true Commander?"

Shepard cleared her throat awkwardly. She noticed that Garrus had his fingers wrapped tightly around his holstered weapon. She straightened up to her full height, and started directly at Garrus. Her cheeks high with color.

"Yes, Garrus, it's true," she snuck a glance at Chellick through her lashes, and saw him stretch his mandibles in a smile at her.

"And this 'undercover work' involved him plastered to you, and reeking of his scent, how?" Garrus nearly roared in the empty corridor leading to Flux.

"Oh… that…," she whispered weakly.