Events of the chapter: Wrex provides Garrus with important information; Garrus & Primarch Victus visit Alliance Headquarters; Shepard teases Miranda; Garrus & Shepard reunite on the SSV Osaka

Author's notes: This chapter was revised on 06/10/2023. Updated for minor changes to prose and dialogue, but story remains unchanged.

PART I,
Chapter 9: Ghost Pipe*

5 months after the Reaper War
Turian Dreadnought

Wrex's marred, scowling face filled the small screen of the dreadnought's comm room.

"So, did you find anything?" he asked.

"Oh...I found some things," answered Garrus. "Your man was right, Wrex. The humans who abducted our men weren't Alliance. Turns out they're run of the mill thugs."

Wrex paused. "What the hell do they want with two turians?"

"They don't. The turians who were on duty that night were on a joint patrol near one of the Reaper wreckage sites. I'm sure they thought the humans who abducted them were part of the patrol. Our men are likely dead."

"Ohhhhhhh..." Wrex intoned, slowly bobbing his head.

"Thanks for the tipoff, by the way. We wouldn't have discovered the truth without it." Garrus turned his head and slicked his fringe back. "Or maybe I'm not such a failed officer after all?"

"Heh heh heh. Glad to help out, my friend. Good luck. And let me know if you need me to smash some heads together. I'd be more than happy to."

"Never a dull moment when you're around, Wrex."

Vancouver, Earth

Garrus and Primarch Victus stepped off the shuttle. The city's air was heavy with bitter ozone, sour and stinging, made worse by the stubborn cloud cover that hung around for weeks on end. Garrus thought that if grey had a smell, this had to be it.

Navigating the main thoroughfare, they side-stepped the maze of tents and makeshift shelters, which were flanked by the accoutrement of transient living: cast-off chairs, empty water jugs, worn tarp, weeks old refuse. In the street, young children ran from shelter to shelter, begging anyone they could find for prized treats. If they were lucky, they could barter for sweets, or playing cards. The luckiest scored small toys.

Garrus imagined that Palaven wasn't much different right now. He thought of his family, and wondered if they had made it somewhere safe. The last he'd heard, his father and sister had safely escaped the planet via evacuation shuttle. Hearing his father's distorted voice over the Normandy intercom had sent a jolt of conviction through him: win this war, see them again. Garrus' mother was, presumably, still at a Salarian medical facility on Nasurn. There was hope for a better quality of life there; her Corpalis Syndrome had been showing signs of improvement since her transfer. But he had no means of contacting the facility now, and no way of knowing if she had even lived to see the end of the war.

Looking down the street in both directions, Garrus considered the possibilities of going home again. "It never gets any easier, landing on Earth," he said. "It makes me think of Palaven, how much work we'll have ahead of us."

Primarch Victus' mandibles fluttered faintly as he turned to him.

"I don't know if I'm up to the job. I'm no politician, I'm no builder," Garrus insisted.

"Neither am I, Garrus. But someone has to pick up the pieces, even if it's men like us. What happens after that... well, that will be up to the rest of the Hierarchy to decide."

Ahead of them, a woman wailed wildly, her voice raw and sorrowful. She hurtled a glass bottle toward a drunken man. In her hand, she clutched a photograph of a small child. A pair of Alliance soldiers struggled to subdue the distraught mother, who had evaded their grasp before she threw the bottle.

The military, or what was left of it, was stationed in every major city center. Turian, krogan, and asari forces that had survived the last attacks on Earth were also serving, primarily patrolling wreckage sites and providing aid or relief. But what little resources were left were being stretched even thinner as desperation turned to lawlessness, and confrontations between galactic citizens of all stripes became more commonplace. Without the central hub of Arcturus Station, the Systems Alliance consolidated what had remained of its administrative and operational arms, and spread them amongst several large metropolises—Hong Kong, Lagos, and Vancouver—with Vancouver being the main hub.

Primarch Victus gazed out along the harbourfront as they rounded the corner toward Alliance headquarters. The water in Vancouver Harbor was eerily still, sheltered from the choppy ocean waves further west—a calm seaport encircled by a ring of destruction. He wondered what the city had looked like before the war.

The soldiers stationed out front saluted the turians, already familiar with their faces from their many debriefing visits. After a thorough security check, the corporal on duty lead them to a large prefab, which had been placed over the former site of the Alliance's legal department. Admiral Bhatt's office situation had improved considerably since the first month after the war.

The Admiral crossed the room as Garrus and the Primarch entered.

"Primarch Victus, General Vakarian," she greeted. Admiral Bhatt and Primarch Victus exchanged salutes.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Admiral Bhatt," said Primarch Victus.

"My pleasure, Primarch. What was it you wanted to speak with me about?"

"Before we get to that...I would first like to apologize for any misunderstanding regarding our missing men. I want to be clear that the Turian Hierarchy does not hold the Alliance responsible for lack of security." Victus cleared his throat. "Some unfortunate rumors have been spreading through various military commands."

"I appreciate your reassurance. But frankly, the Alliance never took such rumors seriously."

Garrus chimed in. "I'm not surprised. Turians aren't well known for making complaints through unofficial channels."

Admiral Bhatt smirked and shifted her weight . "And the other thing?"

"We have reason to believe that our missing men were captured by humans masquerading as Systems Alliance military," said Primarch Victus. He produced a datapad and handed it to the Admiral. "This is a report written by General Vakarian, detailing what we know."

Admiral Bhatt gave the report a cursory scan. "How did you come by this?"

"A friend of mine, Urdnot Wrex—one of his men witnessed the scuffle that night. That led me down some other...darker avenues," answered Garrus.

"I can vouch for his investigation. It's thorough," said the Primarch. "We don't want a diplomatic incident, things are bad enough out there." He locked eyes with Bhatt. "I fear there are bad players who are taking advantage of the chaos."

"Hmmmm..." said the Admiral. "It's interesting that you should bring this up now. I was presented with a similar case just yesterday." She picked a datapad from up her desk and waved it at Garrus. "I believe you know General Kaidan Alenko, do you not General Vakarian?"

"Kaidan? Yes, I do. He and I were aboard the Normandy together. "

"One of his subordinates submitted a report—missing human soldiers, near a Reaper wreckage site. It appears there may be an organized effort to harvest Reaper tech from under our noses."

"Could it be Cerberus?" asked Primarch Victus.

"That's uncertain at this point."

"Just what we need—some rogue faction coming back from the dead," Garrus said sharply.

"The Alliance did discuss this as a possible outcome. But this is very brazen, and dangerous." Admiral Bhatt rubbed her forehead . "Any work involving the dismantling and handling of disabled Reapers is risky. It needs to be done right. A fly-by-night operation could endanger the entire system."

"Indoctrination isn't something you mess around with. I saw that with my own eyes," added Garrus.

Primarch Victus shook his head.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, gentlemen. I'll discuss this with our other senior officers, open an investigation into what's happening here. I'll contact you to set up another meeting if the need arises." Admiral Bhatt and Primarch Victus exchanged salutes. "And if we find out anything more regarding your men, we'll let you know."

"Thank you, Admiral Bhatt."

SSV Osaka

Dr. Paulsen reviewed Shepard's latest test results and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Keep this up and you'll be able to leave the ship soon," he said.

"That's a relief. Lazing around in bed doesn't really suit me," Shepard admitted. "Not that I mind the company."

Miranda, who had been catching up on her messages, looked up from her omnitool. "The Alliance is working on establishing a small rehab facility near headquarters. It would be fairly crude, but they're gathering whatever resources they can muster. I've received word they'll have a spot for you when the facility is ready."

Shepard leaned forward and pushed herself up to sit in the bed. "There are other soldiers that need that spot more than I do."

"Shepard, don't overestimate your healing abilities right now. You'll need a lot of rehab to get back into fighting form."

Dr. Paulsen interrupted. "I'm afraid you might not have a choice, Commander. I am urging you to receive treatment at the new facility. Scratch that...I'm ordering you. No one else can provide you with the same level of care. Not in this system, anyway."

Miranda flashed Dr. Paulsen a pleased smile, the corners of her mouth lifted high. Dr. Paulsen glanced back at her with clear, keen eyes, then shoved his wavy hair away from his forehead.

Their exchange tickled a faint memory. In Shepard's comatose state, she had heard a man speaking in low, purring tones. A woman giggled, followed by a long silence, then footsteps fading away. She didn't think anything of it at the time—she was in an endless dream, afterall. But in the waking world, she realized just how strange it was. It was Miranda had giggled.

Dr. Paulsen's omnitool pinged before Shepard could recall anything more.

"Sorry, if you'll both excuse me, I have another patient that needs attending to."

"Of course, Doctor, don't let us keep you," replied Miranda.

Miranda watched him exit the room, her eyes never leaving his back until he was out of sight and the doors closed.

Shepard gawked at Miranda. "Sooo...Dr. Paulsen, huh?"

"Hmm?" uttered Miranda, turning to her.

"Huh?"

"Um..."

"Aren't you guys—you know..."

"You know...?"

"Ya know—putting the bread in the oven?" Shepard crudely imitated shoving something into an oven over and over.

Miranda furrowed her brow in confusion. "Are we...baking?"

"No!" Shepard tried again. "A bit of how's your father?" Shepard winked wildly.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at, Shepard. Is your eye ok? You've got a pretty bad twitch there."

"A little assault with a friendly weapon?"

"I don't think there's such a thing as a little assault..."

"Opening the gates to Mordor?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "Well, now you've lost me completely."

"Come on!" Shepard whipped out a euphemism she thought officer Miranda would certainly understand. "Foxtrot uniform charlie kilo!"

Miranda's mouth clamped shut. The blood in her face drained away as she realized what Shepard was spelling out.

"Honestly, Shepard, are you twelve?"

Shepard burst out, peals of laughter ringing through the room. Her cackling was so loud and ridiculous Miranda couldn't help but laugh too, sputtering as she tried to cover her mouth.

Shepard stopped to catch her breath. "S-s-sorry, Miranda, I couldn't help myself," she apologized feebly. "Oooooh, that hurts." She rubbed a hand over the side of her ribs.

"So, are we sleeping together?"

"Yeah!"

"Yes."

Shepard laughed again, this time with delight rather than malice.

"You know, I heard you. When I was in a coma. I remember hearing the two of you talking."

"Do me a favor—don't repeat anything you've heard to anyone...including me," said Miranda.

"Will do," Shepard agreed, her infectious smile still wide and beaming.

Just then, a soft ding came from the door. Shepard expected to see Dr. Marques strolling into the room, a jaunty whistle on her lips like always. Instead, a pair of heavy boots scraped across the floor and stopped. Dulled blue and silver chrome glinted under the light panel. Garrus, arms crossed, stood at the threshold, his lean, stalk-like frame slanted against the inside of the door. His eyes fixed on Shepard's face, still full and rosy from laughter.

"Having a good time without me, Shepard?" he said.

The smile dropped from her face. She stared at Garrus. Her brows lifted and squeezed together tightly, her eyes tapered at the corners, and she gaped in relief at the sight of him.

"Garrus..."

He approached, then cautiously sat down next to her on the bed, careful to give her newly healed legs plenty of room. She peered up at him and held his face with her hand, still feeling the thrill of seeing him standing in the doorway.

Garrus cradled his hand over hers. "Hey, Shepard," he hummed with warm subvocals.

A smile slowly bloomed across her face as Grrus leaned forward to enclose her in his arms. She wrapped her arms as far as they could go up his carapace without hurting—like two tender vines delicately hugging a sturdy bough. She nestled her face against his neck and took a slow, deep breath. Garrus hugged her tighter and shivered at the warm exhalation against his skin. The two stayed in their embrace until Garrus remembered that they were not alone.

Garrus twisted to greet Miranda. "Hi, Miranda."

"Hello, Garrus." Miranda smiled softly.

"Sorry to just barge in like this. Good to see you again."

"Not a problem, I was just leaving." Miranda raised her eyebrows at Shepard, a mischievous curl at her lip. "See you later, Commander..."

Shepard gave her a curt wave as she left the room.

Garrus turned back to Shepard. She tipped her forehead to his, and held one of his long fingers in each of her hands. Her once strong, callused fingers now looked thin and delicate curled around his.

"They told me you made it out of the war, but seeing you now, in front of me..."

"Me? What about you?" he countered.

Garrus recalled sitting alone in the noiseless medbay on the last day of the war, wondering if she was alone too. Or worse, had died alone.

"What about me?"

He sat up and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just grateful you're ok."

"Me too," said Shepard.

She didn't know why, but his icy blue eyes appeared to shiver, as if pleading with someone or something. She studied them carefully as he brought his face closer to hers. He kissed her gently on the mouth. Shepard kept her eyes shut for a few moments afterward, savoring the tingle on her lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't come straight away. Some business with the Alliance."

"It's only been three days, Garrus."

She noticed his mandibles wavering.

"I promised I'd be here when you woke up."

"It's ok, really." Shepard put her hand on his arm to reassure him. "So what's going on?"

"I—I didn't really want to talk shop today. I just wanted to see you."

"Hey, you can tell me. I'm still a soldier, you know."

Garrus sighed. "You sure you want to hear it so soon? 'Cause it's bad news. I mean, you just found out we won the war."

Sheppard nodded. "Go ahead, I'll be ok. Promise."

"Someone is abducting military personnel near the wreckage sites. We think it might be someone trying to get their hands on Reaper parts."

Shepard leaned forward and sat up at attention. "Cerberus?"

"We don't know yet. Two of our men went missing, so we brought it to the Alliance. They say they've got their own missing soldiers."

"What?"

"Yeah. Likely the same situation." Garrus was lost in thought for a moment. "Oh, it looks like Kaidan's involved on the Alliance side of the investigation. Did you know he's a general now?"

"Mhmm, Miranda told me. I heard about Hackett too. The poor Admiral..."

Garrus shook his head. "Well, whoever the bastards are, they're impersonating Alliance personnel."

"Damn. If it involves Reapers—this is bad. This is really bad."

"I have a feeling this will be keeping the Primarch and I busy for a while. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Job's never done, right?" she said. "Besides, where am I going to go?" Throwing her arms into the air, she gestured at the walls around her.

"Well, if you ever feel lonely, just ask, I'll come when I can. In the meantime, there are a lot people who want to come see you now that you're awake."

*Ghost pipe (or corpse plant) is a rare wildflower that lacks chlorophyll, giving it a ghostly white color. Because of this it does not photosynthesize. Instead, it gets its energy from other plants via fungi that have a symbiotic relationship with other plants. Ghost pipe is a parasite, of sorts, using a go between to steal energy.