Scarab was on a mission, and Heatstroke, for better or for worse, was along for the ride. Let's rewind and touch base on how exactly she managed to get dragged into this fine mess. It was on the day off that Shepherd gave the company that Scarab approached her and pointedly asked, "Riley, you were there before Shepherd. Do you remember seeing a note on the counter?"

Heatstroke was taken so thoroughly off guard by the question that she slapped her laptop shut. Sorry, dad. "What?"

"The note. Did you see it? You're the only other person who can confirm that it was there."

Ghost had already asked her this while she was being held up in the infirmary, and she assumed that it'd be the last time she would need to answer it. Assumptions were like assholes. "I don't know. I wasn't looking at the counter top at the time."

"So it could've been there," Scarab said.

With one weary glance from her friend to the sticky notes littered on the wall, Heatstroke gave a noncommittal shrug. "I guess, but I thought that you gave up on the note idea, Alex."

Scarab crossed her arms, her fingers tapping against the inside of her elbow. "I second guessed it, sure, but just because other people are telling me it wasn't there doesn't mean it wasn't real. Besides, I don't think the councilor would've cleared me if I kept insisting that it was. I can't investigate if I'm confined to quarters."

As much as Heatstroke didn't like it, she knew exactly where this was going. Her shoulders sagged as weariness sank in. "Ghost already closed the investigation. I don't think they'll let you touch this with a fifty foot pole."

"They probably won't let me review any of the data, sure. But there's gotta be something." Scarab took to pacing the small living quarters as she continued, "When I talked to Shepherd, he said some things."

"You talked to General Shepherd?" Heatstroke questioned, "When was this?"

"After his speech. Just hang on a sec." Turning on her heels, she made her way back towards the door. "He said that even if he had the opportunity and means to get rid of the note, that he had no reason to because he's friends with Brandy's dad. Specifically, he added in means, even though I only mentioned that he had the opportunity. By saying that, he's acknowledging that there was a way for him to do it."

Heatstroke laid back at that point and stared at the ceiling. It seemed she'd need to play soundboard while Scarab went on this tangent... "And there's a way you could've done it. Hell, I could've gotten rid of it too, technically. I didn't, but nobody checked me for it and I was taken straight to the infirmary."

"It's a locked room mystery, in a way. That note couldn't leave the room or else the security camera in the hall would've been able to capture it. And you're not a suspect because if you did actually go into the room, those same cameras would've proved it and you would've been questioned a lot more than you were. Even if I can't see the pictures themselves, the way everyone's reacting to them is telling."

This girl liked her mystery novels and crime shows a little too much. As great as being able to put herself in the mindset of solving an escape room was in some circumstances, this wasn't an episode of CSI. "You sure you're not overthinking this one?"

"I think everyone's under-thinking it, Riley. I'm sure he burned the note. He said he was smoking, so whatever ash he got on him from burning the paper and discarding the rest could be overlooked."

Heatstroke rolled her eyes. "Didn't he also say that he had no reason to do it because he and Brandy's dad are close? It'd be pretty shitty if he torched his friend's kid's suicide note."

"All that means is that he needed a really good reason to do it," Scarab retorted. "If Brandy wrote something that would've ruined that friendship Shepherd had with his dad, then maybe he'd want to get rid of it. By giving that much information, he gave a reason why he'd do it."

"Didn't realize today was opposite day."

"I'm being serious." Scarab huffed and paced a little faster. "If we're going to gather more intel, we need to find some sources. Ghost handled the investigation, so odds are he shared what he found with the Captain. Roach also seemed to know a bit about the security footage when I talked with him earlier, so if I had to guess then he probably helped at some point. Royce is third in the chain of command, so it's possible he's been informed on a few things. Doc might be able to tell us about how Brandy was doing that day, if he and General Shepherd came into contact or anything."

Heatstroke's forehead creased. She already knew the answer as she saw them talking that evening in the infirmary. So in terms of contact, it was there. If she told Scarab though, she had no idea what sort of bomb she'd be setting off. "That's assuming anyone's willing to divulge that information. Odds are, they won't want to talk to you about the investigation."

"I know. And that's why I need your help, Riley."

Reflexively, Heatstroke sat up and looked at her. "My help?"

"Yeah. They won't talk to me. So I need someone they'll be willing to talk to." Scarab smiled. "And you're as cute as a button, so I doubt they'll want to let you down if you just ask nicely."

Like it or not, Heatstroke's face burned from her words. "You really think so?"

"I know so. You and Ghost get along super well, so maybe he has a soft spot for you."

Immediately, the bashfulness that torched Heatstroke's cheeks dampened. Of all people, Scarab thought that Ghost would be attracted to her? Ghost, the guy who didn't seem to like anybody? The only person who Scarab could've said that would've been a bigger stretch was Roach - the man was pretty open with his preferences and she didn't exactly have the equipment.

Heatstroke only met the notion with an awkward chuckle. "Yeah, maybe not."

"Don't be modest, of course he does," Scarab insisted. "I'd bet he'd be willing to tell you a lot if you butter him up first."

Somehow that led to Heatstroke in her current situation, side by side with Ghost doing target practice on the range. He was training with an M9, not that he needed to. His aim was remarkable. Even she, a distinguished sniper in her own right, paused to admire the skill he displayed.

Magazine emptied, Ghost set the fire arm down. "Something's on your mind."

Firing the last few rounds, Heatstroke lowered her weapon and tittered uneasily. "What makes you say that?"

He pointed down range to her target. Several of the holes had listed out further and further from the center. Heatstroke's heart dropped. She prided herself on her accuracy. This was a pitiful display, easily mistakable for an amateur.

"I know you're better than that, so why the mess up?"

Unconsciously, she toyed with the rim of her goggles. It wasn't like she agreed to help Scarab on this bizarre quest of hers. If anything, she wanted nothing more than for it to drop. Scarab's position was turbulent at the moment though, and if the higher ups knew she was investigating without authorization to do so, it could land her in a heap of trouble. Job be damned, the only way Scarab was going to let this witch hunt go was if she was suitably convinced that she was mistaken. With how this was going, the only ways to do that were to either let her investigate until something suitably proved Shepherd's innocence or Heatstroke got help breaking this down to her.

Ghost leaned against the stall's frame. "Is it something you don't feel comfortable discussing with me as your superior officer?"

Scarab may be willing to stake her career on this, but Heatstroke didn't share her passion for this cause. She didn't get here by covering for people. If anyone could help, Ghost did seem like her best bet. "It's not that. You're right, I'm uneasy. Scarab's still focusing on whether or not that note of hers existed. I don't know what to do."

Behind his sunglasses, his brow arched. "Yeah, I heard about as much from Roach. Did she say anything especially alarming or dangerous?"

"Besides still suggesting that General Shepherd got rid of the note?" Heatstroke sighed, bringing about the acidic taste of gun smoke over her tongue. "I don't think so, but she's probably being careful to avoid trouble this time."

"Hmm. So she'll being trying not step out of line. Blatantly at least."

"Right. She wanted my help gathering information on what the investigation turned up. She knows nobody will tell her, so she thought I'd have better luck."

Ghost tipped his head. "She's smart, I'll give her that. I'm sure if we were able to turn this attention on something productive, then she could get a lot done."

"The only way she's gonna let this go is if she's made to understand how unlikely this actually is," Heatstroke said. "I'm... really betraying her trust right now, but Ghost, I'm stuck. As long as I don't have the facts to dispute her theories, I can't stop her. You handled the investigation, so maybe you could talk to her?"

"You want me to sit her down and chat?" Ghost's expression was hidden away, his eyes unreadable. "She's not owed an explanation."

"I know..."

He stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back, bringing about a couple of faint pops. "It'll be a pain trying to justify it to MacTavish, but I'll see what I can do."

The nerves settled in her chest as she clapped her hands together. "Really? I- wow. Thanks, Ghost!"

In the back of her mind, Scarab's earlier remark echoed. Even now, having been granted this huge favor, Heatstroke couldn't disagree more. This wasn't a man with a soft spot for her, let alone some unprofessed attraction. But maybe, just maybe, she underestimated how nice Ghost could be.

Shepherd was finally gone, but that didn't mean that anyone was going to be allowed to rest any time soon. The morning before the General left, his parting words to MacTavish were, "I'm heading out to Fire Base Phoenix. Now that we've eliminated the supply train, we should look into where it was going. I want you to assemble a team and meet me in Afghanistan. We'll discuss it further there."

They had two days before they'd need to ship out for that. He had a very simple line up for it. Sixteen people. Whatever they'd have to deal with, it could be taken care of no issue. He had yet to tell them.

On his way to start giving his team the heads up, he just so happened to run into Scarab. He wouldn't have thought twice about it, except that she was in the armory. At this point, the room had been scrubbed clean and the lock was fixed, but seeing the way she looked around made him uneasy. "Scarab? Did you have something you needed to do in here?"

The woman froze and turned to look back at him. "Ha ha, hey, Captain. I just finished some target practice, so I was putting my weapon away."

Please. Her lie was shallower than a shot glass. If she were just returning a gun here after firing a few rounds, she would've had to clean it first. The cleaners and solvents they used were pretty strong smelling, so they were impossible to miss. There wasn't a whiff of that in the room. "I'm not up for playing games today. You wanna try that one again?"

Scarab huffed. "Alright... I was just taking a quick look around."

Surprise, surprise. "I thought you said you weren't sure you saw that note."

"I wasn't. Can you forgive me for wanting to be sure?"

"At this point? You're starting to push your luck," MacTavish warned. "Nobody likes being wrong, but you have to call a quits somewhere."

"That's the thing though, I don't think I'm wrong on this one." Scarab rounded the counter and approached him. The look in her eyes wasn't like the dark, cold one he'd faced in her quarters. In fact, demeanor wise, she seemed totally normal. "I've been wrong before, but I've got a feeling that there's something seriously fucked up going on."

"It could just be a feeling, you know."

"Of course. What'd I expect? You still don't believe me. Nobody does."

MacTavish frowned. "Scarab, are you sure you're not being a wee bit paranoid?"

Instead of that icy glare he'd expected, he was met with a frustrated scoff. "I got some sleep, the councilor cleared me for duty. What'll it take to convince you that I'm not crazy?"

"Dropping this matter to start," he deadpanned.

Scarab scowled, the corner of her mouth quivering as she bit back, "I can't do that."

The only other person he could think of who willfully clawed back against orders like this was his former Captain. Even then, Price usually had a good reason. Scarab thought she did, but it was clearly misguided. "Brandy's death was already investigated. There's no evidence that the scene was tampered with. This incident is closed."

"But, Captain-!"

"Scarab, drop it! That's an order." He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but he couldn't keep tolerating these outbursts from her. MacTavish took a deep breath. "You were cleared for duty, so get to your actual duties. Do I make myself clear?"

His jump to pulling rank did two things: the anger drained from Scarab's face and it was replaced with shock. Her mouth tightened into a flat line as she gave a stiff nod and fled the armory. Once she vanished around the corner, he massaged his nose with a couple of fingers and went the opposite direction.

It wasn't how he wanted to handle this situation, but her persistence afforded him zero alternatives. In fact, these disputes they'd been having over this imaginary note probably also fixed his first problem with her interest in him. No way in hell would she want to snuggle up to him now that he did this. He'd meant to let her down easy, but now it seemed he'd be stuck with awkwardness around her.

Still a better solution than the "I'm gay" excuse, he decided.

Cold as it was, MacTavish decided to go on with his day as if that dispute never happened. He rounded up the team he planned to bring and gave them a very, very small briefing on the situation, as far as they knew at this point. They were a good lot, pretty eager to fly into this new assignment if Rook and Meat's loud enthusiasm was any indication.

When he dismissed everyone, only two people stuck behind. Ghost and Heatstroke. MacTavish shut his laptop and slipped it under his arm. "Did you need something?"

Heatstroke seemed anxious, for one reason or another. Not a good sign. When it was clear she wasn't about to start this conversation, Ghost replied, "Actually, Heatstroke here-" he clapped a hand on the short woman's shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin "-wanted to know if you'd let me share the Brandy investigation findings with Scarab."

MacTavish processed and double processed Ghost's words, and then a third time for good measure. Once he was certain that he didn't mishear him, MacTavish succinctly responded with "Why?"

"Because we think that the best way to get Scarab to drop the issue is if we sit her down and explain things from a more factual perspective." Ghost took his hand back and continued, "That, and if we give her something way more pressing to focus on, maybe we can keep her off the problem."

Why the bleeding hell didn't they come to him with this sooner? Maybe he wouldn't have had to throw his weight around if this had been an option. He cleared his throat. "I... don't think that's necessary at this point."

Ghost's brows furrowed. "Why's that?"

"I gave her orders earlier today to drop the subject," MacTavish explained.

"So that's why..." Heatstroke murmured. "Captain, I don't think that'll stop her. I encountered her before I came here and she was drawing out a map of the armory. She's not dropping it."

That's how it was? MacTavish was more stunned than angry. Actually, in a backwards way, he was a little impressed. She had stones if she was going to keep this up. "If that's how it's going to be, then I think we'll need to kick this up a couple more notches than a simple talk. Clearly she doesn't see anything wrong with her conduct."

"What do you have in mind?" Ghost asked.

"We'll give her a little scare."

Ghost collected the investigation files, even picked up Scarab's for good measure. He looked up over the desk at MacTavish. Of all the solutions, he never expected this from him.

"Are you sure about this, mate?"

"I am. If you're not comfortable doing it, I could ask for someone else to step in."

Glancing back down at the files in his hands, he couldn't deny that he was tempted to take him up on the offer. He shook his head. "I can handle it."

"Good luck then." MacTavish leaned over the desk and kissed him through his balaclava. It was sweet, and about as drawn out as you can get with a barrier of fabric in the way. "I owe you big time for this."

"We'll talk when this is wrapped up," Ghost told him and left. They had a room prepared for this, an old, unused office that saw very little foot traffic. Better to keep this away from prying eyes and ears.

When he reached the office, out came a short, fully geared figure. As the door shut behind them, Ghost met their gaze. With one tug, the black balaclava came off and Heatstroke went straight to fixing her bun. "She's ready for you..."

Ghost took in the poorly contained worry on her face as she released her kinky, blonde hair from its tie and went straight to twisting it back up. "You don't need to stick around at this point. I'm sure you got plenty to do."

The tie gave a small snap as it sprang taut. Heatstroke nodded. "Don't be too rough on her, alright?"

"She'll be fine." Ghost waved her off and stepped into the room. Inside was a table with a couple of chairs, and in one was Scarab. Her wrist was handcuffed to the armrest. Now, in all seriousness, that handcuff wasn't going to do all that much since the chair wasn't bolted to the floor and her other hand was free, but actual restraint wasn't the aim here. That handcuff was a message more than anything.

Scarab whipped her head around as soon as the door clicked shut, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "G-Ghost..."

He was grateful for his mask and sunglasses. The less she could read him right now, the better. Ghost set the stack of files on the table. "Let's have a chat, Scarab."

{—To Be Continued—

Summary of Plan B Chapter 17

17. Medic tends to her. Nobody believes Shepherd shot her. Shepherd hallucinations. Everybody's going on a mission without her. Scarab's suddenly in the interrogation room.

A/N: Yeah... This is an extra special kinda strange. In Plan B, Scarab doesn't get started on investigating like she does here. What she does get is a hallucination that Shepherd's about to shoot Heatstroke on the range, so she tackles Heatstroke and there's a lot of confusion. She then gets another hallucination of Shepherd being a creep by her ear and saying "Yo so I can, like, make you think that I'mma kill your friends and you can't do shit about it." She then gets into a convo with Soap, who more or less straight up tells her that everybody's got a mission to wherever the fuck but she's "Not Invited (tm)" and she freaks out because "OMG Shepherd's trying to get me alone so he can kill me!" At this point, Soap is thoroughly convinced she's paranoid and that he might've lost several brain cells. Shepherd then orders Ghost to fix the problem with the mind probe.

Now, because that all sounds absolutely stupid and I stubbornly refused to write any of this from Scarab's perspective (read Plan B for her account of all this), all the hallucinations got replaced with her obsessing over the note she swears up and down that she saw. There was supposed to be a lot more investigating on her part, but there's only so much she can get away with.
So a different funny bit from Plan B (and a bit of a long haul one that progresses through the whole fic) was that Heatstroke and Ghost are supposed to get interested in each other. Since Ghost is with Soap, that's obviously not going to be a thing. Still, I'm giving the original fic a nod by having Scarab reference a nonexistent attraction to Heatstroke.
Another fun part about this, technically the reveal that Ghost is gonna pull an interrogation on Scarab wasn't something that would come until the next chapter. I liked the idea more of him stepping into the room as Roundabout softly starts up in the background and he drops his one liner.

Fortunately, the "Scarab is Obsessed" arc will be wrapping up in a couple of chapters.