A/N: Immediately post-ME3, Paragon FemShep Control ending w/romanced Garrus, with implied unrequited Shep/Tali in the past. Fic will center on Garrus, his grief, family, leadership, etc. Slow-burn Shakarian reunion in the future, but mostly about Garrus.

Sol. - G

It was just one message, and Solana almost missed it in the never-ending wheel of alerts and noise and people. An acting head of security didn't have time to check every non-priority message rolling her way, especially at a time like this; supplies were low, tensions were high and the stench of fuel mines made every starving refugee just a little more hateful, just a little more willing to do stupid shit for stupid rewards. There were more petty thefts in an average afternoon than Provisional Security had officers to handle them; the victims of theft cried for justice, or at least for food or water to replace what had been lost, and when they received only scraps in return those victims inevitably became thieves themselves to make up the difference. It wasn't until halfway through the day that Solana had the time to hide behind a fuel tank and scroll through all the messages she had put aside, and that was when she saw it.

Sol. - G

It stared at her coldly, no tone or feeling, and Solana's blood pounded through her ears. Rage, relief, worry, hurt, righteousness―all the familiar pains and aches that came with hearing from her brother, from even thinking about him.

Garrus had survived. Spirits only knew where he was now, or what he had been doing, but the Reapers were gone and her brother had survived.

"Solana Vakarian!" someone shouted―Terry, human female, one of P-Sec's greener recruits with more passion than wisdom.

Solana gritted her teeth, took a breath and stepped into the open. "Terry, what do you need?"

"Ma'am! There's been a riot in sector B1, someone's been stealing emergency rations and now there's a blood feud between two of the Volus clans living there, we need senior leadership on-site to control the situation."

Damn it. Solana took one last look at the message and switched her communicator to "High Priority Only." She could deal with Garrus later.

There wasn't much in way of farmable land or natural resources on Harasha Prime, but it was one of the most fertile fuel mines under direct Council control; it was large, flat and close to where the Citadel used to be, and once upon a time it seemed like the most logical place to shove refugees; it meant enough free labor to mine every ounce of fuel on the planet, and it was close enough to the heart of Galactic space that food, water and resources were only a single relay jump away. With almost every able-bodied refugee working the mines, Harasha Prime spat out more than enough raw material to fuel every ship in the Citadel fleet.

And now, the Citadel was gone and the Harasha Relay was destroyed. A broadcast from Human territory had declared the Reapers in retreat and the war to be over; life as they knew it was no longer ending.

But that had been three weeks ago. Three weeks without a resupply, now it felt like Solana had survived the end of one war only to watch another one erupt around her.

And it was now, after nearly two months of no contact, that Garrus wanted to start a conversation.

It took three hours on the scene for P-Sec to calm the starving refugees, at least enough for a trained peacekeeper to begin negotiating a truce. A guard roster was set up—not enough to stop another riot, but P-Sec was already too stretched to afford a proper rotation. Solana put Terry in charge after making her swear up and down to come wake her up if anything happened, and then retired to the little cluster of pre-fab housing units that served as P-Sec headquarters.

Just released from shift, love, Solana typed tiredly into her communicator. Heading to HQ for some shut eye. - S

We're still slammed over at distribution, Ashalaya replied. I'll probably be awhile. - A

Let me know when you're released. Stay safe. - S

You too, love. - A

Solana felt a bit more tired at the thought of not seeing her wife, and even more tired than that at the thought of the message waiting in her communicator. Ashalaya was usually there for Solana to rant about Garrus, but Harasha Prime had decided to have its own little apocalypse and that meant Solana couldn't have nice things anymore.

She showered first, a little more thoroughly than was necessary, and took extra time on her sleep routine to make sure nothing was forgotten. She checked and double checked her alerts and guard rosters, her laundry, how the P-Sec bathroom was doing on sanitizer and soap.

And then there was nothing else to do. Solana found herself at the foot of her cot, pillow in hand, standing at the moment she usually checked her non-priority messages every night before going to sleep.

She sighed. Sank onto the cot. Opened that one damned chat thread and read it.

Sol. - G

And with great frustration, Solana replied: Garrus. - S

He answered in seconds, before she could even settle under the covers. That was unusual for him; her brother had always been inconsistent with any communication that wasn't face to face, especially after the grand disappearing act he pulled after leaving C-Sec; Solana had gotten used to waiting hours or even days for a reply over the last three years. But there it was.

Are they alive? - G

Mom and Dad are alive. Mom's been pulling through with that weird Salarian treatment. - S

Dad? - G

Came out of retirement to help keep this place from falling apart. He's not hurt or sick, if that's what you're asking. - S

How's the colony doing on supplies? How many days do you have left? - G

Solana paused for a few moments, wondering how and why her brother knew their situation when the last thing she had ever said to him was, We're all safe, looking for a place to get our feet under us, where are you? She wondered how he could be so casual, after going silent without answering the question for months.

We're managing. - S. If he was allowed to spend three years giving zero details about his life and work, she was allowed to do the same.

There's a relief convoy coming your way. No functional mass relays, it's taking the long way. But it's more than halfway to Harasha Prime. ETA sometime in the next twelve days. - G

Solana stared. Hope, foolish and desperate crept up her throat, and the bitter, cynical part of her cut it down. What are you talking about? - S

The Council is sending three ships with as many supplies as they'll fit, it won't be much but it will buy you time. - G

Where are you getting this from? Where are you? Where have you BEEN? - S

I'm on one of the convoy ships. I'm coming from Earth. - G

She stared again, mind whirling. Earth. The frontline of the war itself.

You were fighting the Reapers? Since when? - S

It's not important. - G

Damn right it's important! All this time we didn't know where you were, Dad thought you were screwing around with mercenary groups, you didn't tell us you were going to Earth! - S

I'm sorry. Didn't want to worry anyone. - G

All you've been doing is worrying us for three years, don't give me that crap! - S

I'm sorry. - G

Solana had to look away from her omni-tool; it was getting hard to breathe, and she couldn't force down the tears. Talking to Garrus was always a struggle; always painful. But she thought she was better than this at keeping control.

Do you have an idea of what/how much is on the convoy? - S

I have the manifests. I'll send them to you. - G

A few moments passed, and then her omni-tool blinked with a "NEW DOCUMENT RECEIVED." Solana opened it, and numbers flashed before her eyes; "water 1300wgs, medigel 4500pks, dextro-amino rations 12,000wgs," it went on and on and Solana's ears were ringing with relief. Her breath ran short and shallow as supplies kept scrolling before her eyes, every single thing they needed. Like he had said, it wouldn't supply them for long, but it would take the cold breath of Death off their necks and maybe keep the refugees from killing each other over what little they had left.

Will there be more after this? - S

There should be. It won't be much, but the Council is making Harasha Prime a priority for relief. There's not much fuel left over here; every fleet in orbit around Earth is 80% dead in space just from empty cells. The convoy is going to drop off supplies, then load up as much fuel as they can and head back to Earth. - G

And you're doing what on the convoy? Security? Shipman? - S

Managing ops. And advising. - G The two most generic answers possible.

Right. Still no straight answers, then. - S

Sorry, didn't mean to be vague. I'm in charge of the main gun battery, but we're not in active combat so it's a useless job at the moment. I'm just here, for now. - G

No, I'm sorry. I appreciate you telling me all this. It's a lot, and I'm glad you're alright. We were all worried. We still are. Mom especially, but everything… you know. Things got in the way. - S

I should have reached out before now. - G

I should have, too. - S

I'll let you know when the convoy is getting close. - G

Thank you. - S

The conversation hung there for awhile; Solana watched her omni-tool for a few more moments expecting a reply, but there was none. He had said what he wanted to say; it was the usual way of things. She sighed, swallowed down her painful mix of feelings and pulled the covers up to her chin, trying to force herself to think about when her wife would get off work, and if she would have time to call her mother tomorrow, and if she had left any loose ends at the riot scene. Anything to get her mind off her brother.

Her omni-tool flashed again. Sol. - G

She sighed heavily. Garrus. - S

Do you want to meet up when the convoy gets to Harasha? Face to face? - G

Her heart rate spiked. Solana read it, closed her eyes, and decided the conversation had already been stressful enough for an already stressful night. Taking slow, deliberate breaths, she muted the omni-tool for good and let her head drop to the pillow. Garrus had made her wait on answers plenty of times; he would survive if she did the same thing once. She could not even begin to think about that question and still hope to get rest.

That one decision, small as it was, took a weight off her shoulders. And that, by some miracle, was enough for her to finally reach the end of an exhausting day and fight her way into a deep, dreamless sleep.