Events of the chapter: Kaidan & Miranda discuss their problem; Shepard & Garrus take the long way to the pub; friends and comrades gather after the memorial to remember James


PART II
Chapter 10: Ground Cover

1 year, 9 mo. after the end of the Reaper War
Vancouver, British Columbia, Earth

The strident clatter of plates and drinkware whitewashed the dead air. Miranda, pursing her lips, sat back in her chair, legs crossed, and arms folded tight against her chest. She gave a curt smile to the server who had just walked into the room.

The young man smiled back. "Hi there ma'am. My name is Issac and I'll be your server today. Anything I can start you off with?

Louring, Miranda leaned forward. "Ma'am?"

"Actually, can you give us a few minutes? We're just waiting for the rest of our party." Kaidan had managed to cut her off at the pass. She was angry enough; calling her 'ma'am' was only going to ruin the poor server's day.

"Sure, no problem! I'll come back a little later." The server smiled again before attending another table.

Kaidan reached out and placed his hand atop hers. "I know you're upset, but there's no need to take it out on the kid."

Miranda drew her hands away and set them in her lap. "I wasn't going to. I'm not that petty."

"Come on, you think I can't tell what you're thinking?"

"Then what am I thinking right now, hmm?"

He scoffed a laugh. "I'm biotic, not psychic. Besides, you know what I mean."

"Then what do you suppose the problem is?"

"You're still upset with me for tweaking the Terra Nova report."

"Tweaking? Bollocks! You downright lied. Yeah, I'm angry. "

"I—I was trying to protect you. They would have fired you—blacklisted you, if I reported the truth. I tried to tell you before, but you just shut me down."

At the other side of the room, the server was chatting with a handsome couple who were holding hands across the table. Miranda watched them for a moment, then cast her gaze upon her empty glass.

"You think I don't know that?" Her set eyes flicked up. "I'm a grown woman, Kaidan, I can look after myself. I take full responsibility for my actions. I don't need you to cushion my fall or play white knight."

Her words tamped down the fire rising in Kaidan's heart. For all his concerns, he hadn't considered that she might interpret his actions as patronizing. "You're absolutely right, and I respect that. I always have. But this is my career on the line too."

"Is…is that what this is about then?"

Crap. Tactical error.

"You put your career on the line the moment we slept together," she said flatly.

"That… that's different."

"If that's your motivation, I have some terrible news for you: your career will be dead in the water if the higher-ups catch wind of your tweaking."

"Miranda…"

"Or did you believe I was only upset for myself?" Her set eyes softened. "Please, I'm not that selfish."

Kaidan slumped in his chair, an old habit he'd divested himself of when he joined Jump Zero. He idly pressed the tines of his unused fork with a finger, letting it rock and then fall to the table with a tinny clunk. "This is all because Köhler requested we bring Montrose in alive."

"That's no bloody surprise. The Prime Minister's party is in danger ahead of the next election—she would love nothing more than an escaped scumbag to parade about Europe as a trophy." Elbow on the table and chin in hand, Miranda sneered as she twisted her empty glass. "And I'm sure Mikhailovich rolled right over like the obedient lapdog he is."

"Does it matter? He's my CO. I don't get a choice."

"I'm sure he would have found some way to wiggle out of it. He's rather the expert at that. Blaming others and what not."

Kaidan repositioned his fork, which had gone askew. "You're a smart woman, Miranda. You must understand why I feel the way I do."

"Yes. I do. But I don't regret what I did. I wasn't going to stand by and let that pig abuse a helpless girl like that. The way she looked at me when I came into the room…" Her voice had gained a sharp edge that was delicate and cutting. She tilted her head down, and her hair fell around her face. "You didn't see the things I saw. You don't get to—"

She clamped her mouth shut. A band of scarlet surfaced across her face and she was clenching her teeth. Either something had gone very wrong or there was something she wasn't telling him; the only time he'd seen her lose composure like this was when she'd talked about her father.

"It isn't like you to jeopardize a mission—to endanger others—without good cause. Is this really about Montrose? Or is there something else?"

"What are you implying…" She ran her fingers through the swoop of hair above her forehead, setting it back into place. "You think it's my fault James is dead?"

"No, I'm sorry. Look, I don't meant to pry, I'm only concerned—"

Her eyes followed something behind him. Kaidan was puzzled for a moment, until he heard her cry out,"Steve, you're here! Please, have a seat."

Steve pulled out the chair next to Kaidan and sat.

"Hey. Hope you two weren't waiting long."

"Oh, no, we haven't been here long," said Kaidan, his mouth still agape. "What, fifteen minutes, tops?" He glanced at Miranda, who gave a slight shrug.

"Sorry if I interrupted anything," Steve said as his gaze shifted between them.

"Nothing terribly important," said Miranda.

Her wide, close lipped smile was genuine enough. Kaidan followed suit and held his hands up as if surrendering.

"I got caught up in speaking to Vega's uncle," said Steve. "He's really grateful for everything. Really touched. Nice man."

"It's a shame he was away for so long, he always spoke so highly of his uncle," said Kaidan. "When's the commendation ceremony?"

"A few weeks from now. They want to be sure the Prime Minister is there. It's going to be a pretty small affair, but I'm sure they'll be sending you an invitation too."

"I'll be there," said Kaidan.

The server, who had seen Steve sit down at the table, rushed over to greet him. "Hello again. Still waiting on more people here?"

"We are," replied Kaidan.

"Can I start you off with something, sir? A drink, maybe?" the server asked Steve.

"Umm, sure, why not." Steve drummed his fingers on the table as he browsed the menu display. "Let's have a pitcher of pale ale to start."

"Sure thing. Anything else?"

"I have a feeling Shepard and Garrus are gonna be a while. What do you say we grab some appetizers while we're waiting?" asked Kaidan.

Miranda let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god, I'm starving."


Garrus' mandibles hung alongside his gaping mouth as he peered up at the sprawling hospital complex, its silver capped, pointed towers staggered across the skyline like knives stood on end. The last time he was in Vancouver, the humans had just begun to accelerate their reconstruction plans. At least half of the city had been in need of total demolition, while new development had advanced in the flattened city center. Now, there was enough infrastructure to support critical services, and a plethora of shops and restaurants had cropped up in between; though, tragically, Garrus noted, still charging prices well above his paltry pay-grade.

Shepard pointed to one of the hospital towers. "They just opened that last wing a couple of weeks ago, the genetics department."

"I can't believe they've got genetics operational. We've barely completed our ICU in Cipritine. And that's the capital. Imagine the rest of the planet."

It was a leisurely walk from HQ to the brewpub. They'd taken the long way—a circuitous route that went from Coal Harbour, around the city center, down through Yaletown, past the new hospital, and up toward English Bay. Shepard hummed to herself as Garrus gawked breathlessly, marveling at all the progress the humans had made since he'd left. It was a far cry from what they had accomplished on Palaven.

"To think they've done this in just two years. If turians—" He looked down to speak with Shepard, but there was only air.

Garrus glanced over his shoulder. Shepard was stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, stooping down on one knee. She idly ran her fingers over a few sprigs of green that had shot up between a construction barrier and the concrete, in a thin strip of dirt no wider than his talon.

"Kinnikinnick," she said as he approached. "I've seen this near the Alenko property. It likes to grow between rocks, in sandy soil. Can't believe it's growing in the city. Amazing…" A soft smile warmed her face.

Garrus had never had the same appreciation for the natural world that Shepard did. He always preferred the brash song of the city—the lights and the people and the deluge of sounds, the beating heart of a society, every measure as fulsome as the last. But it was Mindoir that made Shepard who she was—observant, curious, and quick to learn. They were qualities he admired about her; they made her adaptable.

Shepard stood up and dusted her hands off. "Onward?"

"You humans, you're a resilient bunch." He smiled as he reached for her, then shortened his stride to let her catch up. "Don't get me wrong, turians are tough as teeth. We think like a collective. But we don't have the same knack for swift adaptation. That quality feels very…human."

"Some might call it non-committal. Or lacking boundaries."

"Maybe. But it's a good trait to have these days. If only I could package some of that and bring it home."

Shepard squeezed his hand and smirked. "Thinking of going home already, huh? How long do you have? A couple of days?"

"Mmmm, a little longer than that." Garrus strained to keep his tone unaffected.

"At least that's a personal win, right?"

"It is." She had no idea of the truth behind her words.. It wasn't the win he'd been desperate for, but it was the one he needed.

At the next corner, three salarians loitered near a stammering VI terminal stuck in an action loop. Its orange flicker lit their inquisitive eyes as they watched a flock of pigeons jostle for crumbs strewn across the ground. Shepard and Garrus approached, and the birds scattered, some of them flying directly into the salarians, who shrieked and flailed as feathers grazed their frightened faces. Garrus turned to Shepard and snickered. His puerile reaction set off her rolling laughter, earning them dirty looks from the visitors. The salarians slunk away in embarrassment as Shepard and Garrus came to the front of the brewpub.

"This is it," she said, stopping at the heavy, metal door. Shepard let out a long breath. "I hate that it took something like this…but I'm happy you're here. Even if it isn't for long."

Garrus rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "Try not to think about it too much. Let's just make use of the time we have, hmm?" The door slid open and he stepped aside to let her through.


The atmosphere changed from day to night as they crossed into the foyer. Cool and dimly lit, the vibe of the place was decidedly moody, its dark, perforated panels and faux wood floors evocative of a private wine club. The cultural whiplash made Garrus' head swirl. He sniffed at the air. It smelled warmly familiar—earthy and nutty, like the thick slices of toast Shepard ate for breakfast aboard the Normandy. His mandibles fluttered at the memory, and he smiled at the back of her head as it swiveled to search the room.

While her head was craned toward the bar, he peered around the corner into one of the large side rooms. Kaidan, Miranda, and Steve were seated at a long table, speaking with a server. The amber tube lights above drew diffuse lines over half-eaten plates of food, along with two pitchers of beer, one full and one empty. Miranda, who was poking at a piece of shrimp with her fork, made a face and set her fork down. Garrus waved to get her attention. But before he could cross the threshold, Shepard snatched his arm and dragged him toward the bar.

"Come on, there they are!"

"Who?"

Uniform after uniform filled the seats of the U-shaped counter of the taproom. Judging by the soldiers' body language—and their noise levels—the group had started drinking well before they arrived. Drunk humans and drunk turians weren't so different, after all.

Shepard called out to them from the threshold. With its high, vaulted ceiling, the cavernous room radiated sound: ambient music throbbing, imbricated voices rising and falling, the bark of the bartender, the quick snap of taps opening and closing, dirty glasses clinking in the rush of the dishwasher. When none of the soldiers turned around, Shepard stepped up to a man seated near the apex of the bend and tapped him on the shoulder. The man spun around. His face lit up at the sight of her, and he set down his beer to give her a proper salute.

Garrus watched Shepard's wan face brighten as she saluted back.

"Commander Shepard, you received our invitation!" The man bellowed. "How have you been?"

"I've been better. You?" She was practically shouting.

"Same. The last week has been…a shock, to say the least."

"I'm sorry, I can only imagine. When I heard the news, I almost didn't believe it myself."

The man set his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. "You know, I was astonished you didn't speak today."

"They asked me to, but it didn't feel right to say yes. It would've been a distraction. And the last time I spoke on stage it didn't turn out too well." Shepard shrugged.

"Ah, yes. A wise choice then," the soldier said, stroking the side of his beard. "Well, you're looking rather well today regardless." He flashed a smile, and his jewel-gray eyes crinkled at the corners.

Garrus had worked alongside humans long enough to recognize this man would be considered attractive by their standards. Shepard was smiling back at the poised soldier, what with his head of dark, silken hair and pretentiously trimmed beard.

Though he'd grown to appreciate the appeal of head hair, Garrus didn't see what the fuss was about when it came to hair on the face. Joker had had lots of hair on his face, but at least he had the good sense to keep his head hair under control with a hat. But flaunting a full head of hair and hair on the face? That was lavish and off-putting.

They seem awfully friendly. Who is this guy? Garrus cleared his throat.

"Oh, where are my manners? Palmer, this is General Garrus Vakarian of the Turian Hierarchy. Garrus—Lieutenant Griffin Palmer, one of James' men."

Ah, of course. Garrus chided himself for having immature thoughts at such a serious time. This is why they were here, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant." He shook Palmer's hand. His grip was stronger than he had expected. "I served with Vega aboard the Normandy during the Reaper War. The Alliance has lost one hell of a soldier."

"Thank you, sir." Lieutenant Palmer furrowed his brow. "Wait…General Vakarian? You must be Scars then, yeah?"

"Scars?" There was a name he hadn't heard in a long time. "Heh, I guess James must have mentioned me then."

"He only said you were the best bloody sniper he'd ever worked with." Palmer raised his arm in the air and waved at another soldier at the end of the bar. "Hey, de Luca, get over here!"

De Luca pushed back from his stool and sidled up to the trio at the corner, his sleepy eyes blinking slowly.

"This is General Garrus Vakarian." Palmer gestured to Garrus. "Lieutenant de Luca is our unit's designated marksman."

"Wow…General Vakarian—it's an honor to meet you sir." De Luca gripped Garrus' hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"I'd say you're making me blush, but even Shepard hasn't succeeded in that."

"Shepard? Commander Shepard!" A well-muscled woman with brilliant red hair yelled from the other side of the bar. Her stool squealed as she pushed back from the counter and flounced to their side, recklessly swinging an empty glass like a little girl with a basket. She saluted with her free hand.

"Chief Fitzpatrick, nice to see you again. I wish our reunion was under better circumstances." Shepard saluted back.

"You're here! Are you—are you—are…" Fitzpatrick was obviously fighting off a terrible case of the hiccups. "Are you staying for a while? Please say yes!"

"You'll have to excuse her, Commander. Despite her rugged appearance, she's a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol." Palmer gave Fitzpatrick a light nudge with his elbow.

"I am—am not." Fitzpatrick's face, already ruddy, wrinkled in irritation.

"I seem to remember as much," Shepard said with a wry smile. "Where's Corporal Kamau? Not sitting in a corner somewhere I hope?"

Palmer shook his head. "I'm afraid she's still in hospital. Suffered from a pulmonary embolism while we were in the field, went into shock. Thankfully she's on the mend."

"Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. Please tell her she was missed today."

"I know she would be here if she could. I'll let her know you asked after her."

"Commander, come sit with us! You too, Scars!" Fitzpatrick signaled with her arms, nearly losing her grip on her glass.

Palmer stifled a laugh. "General Vakarian."

Fitzpatrick snorted and performed a sloppy bow in apology. "Right, yes, sorry. Not feeling myself today."

"None of us are," said de Luca, who was waiting at the bar for his next drink. "Haven't felt like myself in at least two weeks." He stared into the distance toward the gleaming, copper tanks that dominated the far wall.

"Hey all."

Shepard jumped as a head popped up between her and Garrus. "Crap, Steve! I nearly clocked you in the face."

"What do you say we all sit together? We've got that big table over there, plenty of room. We can push another table over if we have to." Steve pointed toward the side room. "There's more food on the way. And I hear they've got a decent dextro menu too, Garrus."

"Anything is going to be better than Hierarchy rations." Garrus might have been feeling out of place, but he wasn't going to turn down decent food at any turn, even if it cost him a month's pay.


The brewpub had grown quiet in the late hours of the night. All the half-eaten dishes, and the many added along the way, were now scraped clean, only daubs of sauces left on their surfaces. Streaks of foam lined the inside of empty pitchers, which had been quarantined to one side of the table like branded outcasts. Looking on from afar, the group's now long-suffering server, Issac, sighed. His haggard face grew longer as the party continued to drink and bluster near closing time. He had given up on keeping up with their mess.

Garrus swallowed the last of his dextro-beer and wagged his glass at Shepard. "I'm only telling you this now because I was embarrassed back then...but Vega was the one who taught me how to tango."

Shepard sputtered and brought her hand under chin, barely catching the beer dribbling from her mouth.

"I knew there was something fishy going on!" she yelled as she smeared her hand across her napkin. "I went down to the armory and you guys were acting sooooo weird. Turian hand-to-hand combat my ass. There was music on. Like, sexy music. I remember thinking it looked kind of…intimate." Shepard thrust her lips out and made loud kissing noises at Garrus' face.

Steve slapped his hand on the table and chortled. "You—you should've seen it. A digitigrade, all legs and spurs. And…James. You know, built like—like a damn ship hull."

"You knew about this, Steve?"

"Oh, it was partly my suggestion. That's why I offered to go shopping with you. I had to keep you occupied while they practiced. We even enlisted EDI's help."

"No!"

Garrus picked up his glass, then put it down again as he realized it was empty. "I was skeptical at first, but I have to say, Vega was a pretty good teacher. And a hell of a dancer. You wouldn't know it though."

"That's very impressive, General. Can't say I've ever seen a turian do the tango," said Palmer.

Fitzpatrick leaned forward with excited eyes. "Will you show us?"

"No."

"Boo!" Fitzpatrick leaned back in her seat again and gulped her beer.

"James was full of surprises. Kicked everyone's ass at poker. Pretty decent cook too," said Steve.

"I don't know, we never ate much of his cooking. I don't think he had time," said de Luca. He was sitting upright in his chair with his eyes closed and his arms crossed. "Although, he did make some mean eggs on occasion."

Shepard laughed, then put on a faux low voice. "Eggs? Eggs? Anyone want eggs? I'm making some eggs."

"Oh, I swore off eggs for a good six months because of him. Couldn't take the smell anymore," added Kaidan.

Miranda lifted her head up from the table, where she had been resting it in her folded arms. "He made me the best Bloody Mary once—the morning after your party, Shepard. I still dream about that Bloody Mary," she said wistfully.

Kaidan raised an eyebrow at her. "I can't believe you drank more after that night we had."

"Benefits of powerful biotics, I suppose."

"Not so powerful now…" Kaidan said as Miranda draped herself back over the table.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Fitzpatrick whipped her hair back and tied it into a loose bun. "Speaking of drinking—you and the Commander ditched us in Tokyo!"

"Ditched you? You all bailed on us!" Snatching the last piece of bread, Shepard dragged it across one of the sauce laden plates. "You know, I almost didn't come along that night. I was so exhausted from the tour, and I didn't want to be hung over the next morning." She bit into the bread and took a moment to chew. "But something inside me just screamed: 'Go. You might not get another chance to hang out with Vega for a while.' I had no idea that a 'while' meant forever…"

A powerful silence hung in the air as everyone pressed their lips together, or furrowed their brows, and not an eye was dry at that moment. Shepard took another bite and looked down at her hands.

Palmer's shaky voice broke the spell. "So, did you wake up hung over the next morning? Because as I recall, the rest of us went back to base while you and the Commander left to do more cavorting."

Shepard scoffed. "No comment."

Garrus snapped his head toward her and shook it."Shepard, Shepard, Shepard…tsk tsk."

"I have absolutely zero regrets. Best memories I could ask for."

"So what did you two talk about? The best way to take down a varren with your bare hands?" asked Steve facetiously.

"Actually, we talked about Anderson. How much he was like a father figure to us both. And being an N7. Some other stuff. I think he even mentioned you at one point," she said to Garrus, "though my memory is fuzzy there."

Garrus put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Spirits, he saved my ass so many times. Remember when I was nearly devoured by that banshee in London? That thing was relentless. Vega threw himself in front of it and just gave it hell with a grenade." He chuckled. It was a bittersweet memory now. "Absolutely reckless. But he did it. Toughest son of a bitch. I always figured he'd have more battles ahead…" His subvocals hummed low. "But at least he died fighting. There are worse ways to die." The image of his mother, prone and seizing on his floor, flashed through his mind.

Shepard's lower lip quivered and she bit down.

"Everything just happened so quickly. I never imagined the Commander wouldn't make it out," croaked Palmer.

De Luca sniffed and wiped at his still closed eyes. "I shouldn't have left him…"

"Oh hon, this isn't your fault." Fitzpatrick put her hand on de Luca's back and rubbed.

Kaidan's dark eyes, darker than usual, fell on Shepard. "Having those kinds of thoughts…they'll just wreck you, son. And they won't bring him back."

"He wouldn't want you to feel that way, trust me. He was your commanding officer, he knew what he was doing when he gave the order." Shepard looked back at Kaidan with a flattened frown.

Miranda, who had been observing their exchange from the comfort of the table top, sat up. "If you'll excuse me, I must avail myself of the ladies…"As she stood up, her legs gave out and she wobbled, and she clung to the back of her chair for support.

"Whoa there! Are you ok?" Kaidan reached out to offer a steady arm.

She swatted his arm away. "I'm fine." Straightening herself out, she stumbled toward the washroom.

"Just leave her be, Kaidan. She'll be fine later—she just needs a few glasses of water and some sleep," said Shepard.

The server poked his head into the room. "I'm sorry to say, but it's five past closing, folks. I'm gonna need you to wrap it up here. You can pay at the counter over there if you like." He pointed to the register at the bar.

Steve nodded. "Thank you, Issac. You've been very gracious today. We appreciate it."

"One last toast?" asked Shepard.

"But we're out of beer, Commander," said Fitzpatrick.

Garrus poured a dram of water into his empty glass, then passed the pitcher along for everyone else to do the same. "One thing I've learned while working with you humans is that a proper toast requires something in the glass. Water will do, right?"

"NO!" barked Shepard and Kaidan at the same time.

"What? Why not?"

"It's bad luck! It means someone will be doomed to drown."

Garrus flicked his mandibles. "That makes no sense, Shepard. Humans and their ridiculous superstitions…"

At that moment, Issac stepped back into the room with a pitcher of beer and full glass for Garrus, then set them down on the table. "On the house. My condolences."

Shepard gave a tired, grateful smile. "Thank you."

Steve pushed back from the table and stood. "Here's to James—our friend, our comrade, and our Commander." He held his glass aloft, and the rest of the group did the same.

"May he rest in peace surrounded by beautiful asari maidens and endless cervezas," added Shepard.

"Here here!"

"To James!"

"To James!"


Song: "Cut Here" - The Cure
In a minute, sometime soon, maybe next time, make it June / Until later doesn't always come / It's so hard to think it ends sometime / And this could be the last / I should really hear you sing again

Author's note: I mentioned before that this chapter was supposed to be part of the last, but I'm kind of glad now that I cut it in two. I feel there's the formality of the actual memorial, and then there's this - the real memorial for Shepard and crew, sharing stories and talking around the table. A fitting end.

Oh! And the story about Vega teaching Garrus how to do the tango is straight from my short but sweet one shot, "Tommy Two Toes". Check it out if you're so inclined 😁