Events of the chapter: A sad parting and a happy reunion.

Author's notes: I wanted to get this chapter posted more than a week ago, since most of it was done, but I was unexpectedly taken away from home due to emergency evacuation! Luckily our home and family were unharmed, thank goodness. So thank you for your patience :) I actually had a lot more to write for this chapter, but there is so much happening in this section that I had to break it into two chapters. So the next chapter will not take me long to finish and should be up in a week or so.

Again, if you would like to know more about what happened, I suggest reading my Taproot companion story, Semper Vivum. Not necessary though! Thanks for reading!

PART II
Chapter 9: Cempasúchil

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

It was a balmy day in Vancouver. The sun's late summer fervor was cut by the mild air that blew in from the harbor, and an unusual quiet had settled over downtown. All construction within a five block radius had been halted for the afternoon, with blockades erected along most of the major avenues leading to Coal Harbor.

If anyone had been dropped onto the brand new concourse at Alliance headquarters on this day, they'd be forgiven for thinking they'd happened upon a swearing-in ceremony. The newly installed landscaping—a cornucopia of coastal natives—had been groomed to its finest, with banks of chairs arranged in wide semi-circles, following the shape of the ground beneath it. But everyone gathered here today was here to pay their respects. One of the Alliance's elite had fallen while in the line of duty. He had died saving dozens of children, destroying one of the Alliance's post-war enemies in the process. His was the archetypal hero's story.

Shepard crossed the intersection leading to HQ. Service members in pressed dress blues and civilians in monotone garments ambled past, with no one in a particular rush. A subtle change caught her attention: the benign peacefulness that had settled over the city in the last two years, the forward march of everyday life. It stood in stark relief to the day of her trial, when the Reapers had let loose a firestorm of ruination and demise.

Serving in the military meant that death lurked around every corner. Shepard had been to many services in the past; they were constant reminders of the nature of her commitment. But the atmosphere at this one was different. The concourse at HQ had been transformed into a microcosm of Alliance and galactic geopolitical affairs, and officials, diplomats, and dyed-in-the-wool politicians of all ranks were here to be seen. Shepard's stomach turned. Her friend's remembrance had degraded into a PR opportunity. James wouldn't have wanted this. He'd want to have been remembered by the friends and colleagues that stood by him, not used as a prop for a politician's gain. "You gotta keep it real, Shepard," he always reminded her.

Scanning the busy concourse, she spotted Admiral Hackett. He stood at the base of the stage and was speaking with a diplomat from Irune. The diplomat's short arms waved about—her grand gestures lifting her heels off the ground—but Shepard couldn't make out what she was saying. Hackett continued his exaggerated nod as he met Shepard's gaze. He made a desperate attempt to signal SOS with his eyes, but she approached with caution, unsure of what she might be disrupting.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bori, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with someone urgently regarding the ceremony. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I had no idea volus culinary history was so…fascinating." Hackett offered a flat, closed-lip smile and stalked toward Shepard, who was waiting between a pair of lavish flower arrangements sent by the Asari Republics and Salarian Union, respectively.

"Shepard, you made it." They exchanged salutes. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She canted her head."For our loss. He was a damn fine soldier, and a good friend."

"And a promising senior officer. Gone too soon." A prattle of overlapping voices rose behind the Admiral. He leaned in and spoke in a hush. "Get a load of these assholes. All here buttering their own bread. "

In front of center stage, a flock of politicians were hobnobbing and having their pictures taken with the memorial's display in the background. A crass spectacle if Shepard ever saw one.

Admiral Hackett shook his head. "Celebration of life my ass. I didn't want them here, but the Prime Minister insisted."

"We still need to play nice with them, I'm afraid. They're footing our bill, after all." Shepard raised her eyebrows."Watch out, there's one now."

One of the flock, the European Prime Minister, had turned her head toward Admiral Hackett and waved, a garish smile festooning her face like a piece of cheap costume jewelry. The Admiral tipped his cap.

From the far end of the concourse, Shepard spied some familiar faces in dress blues, the gold piping on their jackets glinting in the afternoon light. Kaidan stared back and held his hand up to get her attention. He was standing with Steve, who appeared to be typing something into his omnitool.

"Sorry to bail on you, sir, but I'm going to speak with General Alenko. Good luck!"

Before Admiral Hackett could answer, Shepard had taken off and the European Prime Minister approached, her determined steps ticking across the concrete.

"Shepard!" Steve said as she loped closer.

"Steve," said Shepard."My god, I haven't seen you since—"

"The end of the war?" He held his arms out wide for a hug, and the two friends embraced each other with gusto.

Shepard brushed her long bangs behind her ear and avoided his gaze. "Yeah, guess I kinda fell off the map, huh?"

"I'm just happy you're here. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I think Vega would be happy to see all together again."

"He would."

Shepard was about to greet Kaidan when a young corporal jogged toward them, stopping at Steve's side. "Sir, they're ready for you on stage. Five minutes." The erratic squeals of the brass section punctuated the air as the band warmed up.

"Thank you Corporal Timko. I'll be right there."

Timko saluted and jogged back to the stage.

"You're speaking today?" asked Shepard.

"I am. I requested to speak at the memorial as soon as the announcement went out."

"I'm glad it's you and not one of them." Shepard pointed her chin toward the base of the stage.

"Hmm, me too. I….James is—" Steve's voice wavered. He held his breath for a moment and his face went still, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond Shepard's shoulder. "James was one of my best friends in the Alliance. No—one of my best friends, all stop. Sharing my memories of him with others…it's a pleasure and a privilege." He peeked down at his omnitool, then flicked his eyes up to her again. "I've gotta go, but maybe we can catch up after this? Group dinner? What do you think?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'd like that."

Steve nodded and gave a curt wave to Kaidan as he turned away.

Kaidan, whose head had been swiveling in all directions to examine the crowd, finally greeted Shepard. "Hey, Shepard."

"Hey, you." Bending her torso toward him, she gave him an awkward hug and a dutiful pat on the back. "How are you holding up?"

"Um, ok, I guess. It's been a bit of a shock. Never thought Vega of all people would go down like that. If I'm being honest, I feel a bit guilty about my part in all this."

"What? Why would you say that?"

"It was my suggestion in the first place—that we use covert ops instead of a more straightforward approach."

"You really think that would have changed anything? Besides, he knew what he was doing. It's our job, after all."

"I know. But it's different when you're the one who's calling the shots, you know?" Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck as he searched Shepard's eyes.

"Mmm, I understand. I do."

The restrained murmurs around them quieted. The crowd began to thin as ushers at the ends of the rows directed people to their seats.

"Looks like it's time." Kaidan gestured for Shepard to go ahead of him, then followed as she lead the way to the officer's section.

They shuffled into their row. Shepard looked around, her brow furrowing as she squinted into the distance. When they sat, she leaned in and whispered, "I haven't seen Miranda yet. Is she here?"

"Uhh…I'm not sure. Probably running a bit late. There's lots of slow down with all the security today." Kaidan hesitated. "Actually, she and I had a bit of a….tiff a few of days ago. I'm surprised she's still talking to me."

"Really? What over?"

"I don't really want to get into specifics. Let's just say we had a 'disagreement' about the mission report."

"I see."

Kaidan let out a gruff breath and turned to Shepard. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what's that?"

"How—how did you handle it when Miranda gave you the cold shoulder? Has she always been this….prickly?"

Shepard snorted softly. "Yeah, yeah she has. She may be 'perfect', but that is definitely one of her more challenging qualities." She stretched an arm across Kaidan's back and clapped his shoulder. "I don't have a lot of advice that would help—considering you're romantic with her and all—but hang in there, hmm?"

Kaidan looked down at Shepard's hand with a confused expression. "Shepard…"

Shepard drew her hand away and gave a wry smile, embarrassed that she had made light of his very real problem. Suddenly, it felt wrong to be acting this way with him. "Sorry. I know it's not easy. Miranda's always been a tough nut to crack. It took me a lot longer than it took you to appreciate her better side."

"You—you had pretty good reason for that."

"Yeah, you're not wrong. I guess what I'm trying to say is: don't give up. Just be upfront with her. Maybe give her some time to cool off."

"Any cooler and she's going to freeze the earth over…" he muttered.

Kaidan's attention turned to the empty stage as the brassy notes of the military band began to rise. An array of spears shot up from risers behind the podium; they were topped with flags of all nations and colonies, their color blocks and abstractions flapping in the breeze. Front and center, a large, formal portrait of James was displayed on an easel. His dog tags, along with a helmet, hung from one of the corners. Everyone settled into their seats and the music faded to a close.

There was a hush as Admiral Hackett approached the podium at the side of the stage. He looked out onto the sea of somber faces and waited a few moments to ensure he had the crowd's attention. He cleared his throat, adjusted his peaked cap, and began.

"Good morning, everyone—family, friends, soldiers, and honored guests. On behalf of of the Systems Alliance, I thank you for joining us here today. We are gathered on this beautiful, September day to remember and celebrate the life and service of Alliance Navy Commander James Roberto Vega. Commander Vega served in the Alliance for more than ten years, distinguishing himself as a capable soldier and leader. During the course of his service, he took part in the N7 program, the highest designation for special forces one can achieve within the Alliance, and the training for which is both grueling and extreme. To be accepted to the program is prestigious in and of itself, but to operate in the field as a special forces officer is a rarity. Commander Vega also served aboard the SSV Normandy—lead by Commander Circe Shepard—of whose crew was instrumental in turning the tide of the Reaper War. His tactical contribution would be consequential in the final weeks and days of that terrible event, a fact that I'm sure we are all grateful for today.

"He will be remembered for his unwavering bravery, fortitude, and personable character.

"As Admiral, I am proud to announce that Commander Vega has earned the Alliance's highest honor: the Star of Terra, for his bravery and sacrifice in the face of great danger, and for going above and beyond his call of duty to rescue innocent civilians. His surviving family—his uncle Emilio Vega, and his cousin Teresa Vega—will receive the medal on his behalf during a separate ceremony to be held at a later date.

"Thank you all for taking the time to remember an honorable and dedicated solider—Commander James Roberto Vega. May he rest in peace."

The crowd rose as the band played the Alliance anthem, and the Systems Alliance flag—the only flag missing from the array—was paraded to the stage by two service members in full formal uniform. When the music stopped, Steve stood at the podium, his hands clasping the sides of its beveled edges.

"Please take your seats." He paused. He looked down and took a deep breath before continuing. "Hello. My name is Lieutenant Steve Cortez, and I have had the honor of knowing and serving with Commander James Vega for the last five years.

"James was a simple man. And I mean that in the best sense of the word. He said what he thought, did what he said he'd do, and made it clear to everyone how he felt. If he could hear me right now, he'd probably call me a name—one not fit for polite company. Then he'd take it back and laugh and admit I was right. At least, that's how it usually went. But for someone who lived so simply, and by a simple code, there was so much more to him than what people saw on the outside.

"Commander Vega and I first met while serving on Fehl Prime. I was assigned to the infrastructure team and he was a brash lieutenant. If I'm being honest, I thought he was kind of a meathead at first. You know the type, right? Those guys with muscles bigger than their brains? Anyway, everyday he'd pass through our station—tell some jokes, grease the wheels with anyone he thought would make a useful friend. James knew everyone's name. Well, the names he gave them, anyway. He was notorious for his nicknames. He said it was because their real names didn't fit. Though if you ask me, I think he just forgot them right away. He called me 'Esteban', and it just stuck.

"Later, Vega admitted that the real reason he stopped by our station so often was to flirt with the asari anthropologist who was assigned to our jurisdiction. She consulted on Prothean ruins we had uncovered during construction. He'd taken a real interest in her, but she didn't seem to return that interest. He tried anyway. Oh, I teased him about that for a long time. But he kept stopping by. When I asked him why, he just said he liked the company, and the rest was history.

"James' reputation as a flirt aside, he genuinely enjoyed getting to know everyone. The more time I spent with him, the more I came to appreciate his playful humor and straightforward demeanor. When my husband, Robert, died in the Collector attack on Ferris Fields, I was beside myself. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. I couldn't find the joy in anything. I buried my nose in work because I didn't know what else to do. Vega noticed right away. He saw how much I was struggling. He tried to keep things light and happy at work with snappy remarks, or one of his ridiculous tall tales. Always reminding me to relax and not work so hard. Not as a way of ignoring my pain, but to show me that life still had something to offer. I'll always be grateful to him for being a light in a dark place.

"Despite all outward appearances, James took his job seriously. He wanted nothing more than to serve his home planet and to do it well. Even with the setbacks he experienced throughout his career, he kept going forward, seeking to be better and do better at every turn.

"In the last days of the war, when we weren't sure whether we'd live or die, he admitted to me that he was scared. He hadn't heard from his uncle or his father, and he worried that he would never get to see Earth again. He was strong enough to admit his fear, but he didn't give into it. He did what a good soldier should do.

"Commander James Vega was like a brother to me, as he was to many others in the Alliance. He will be missed by many, but most of all, by his dear Uncle Emilio and cousin Teresa, who are with us here today. To you, I offer my deepest condolences. I hope you will find comfort in knowing that there are hundreds of others who will keep James alive in their hearts and in their memories.

"James, wherever you are, I wish you peace and love. You deserve it. Descanse en paz, mi amigo. Te amo, siempre."

More former crewmates and friends spoke after Steve, each of them sharing fond and sometimes funny memories of James. Among them was Lieutenant Paul de Luca, his sniper aboard the Normandy and the last Marine to see him alive before the explosion on Terra Nova. De Luca spoke of James' rapport with his crew, and of his fighting spirit, which he didn't give it up until the last.

He didn't need to say it, but Shepard could sense the guilt that weighed on the young man for simply following orders. She'd seen and felt this kind of guilt before. The thorny shape and sound of it—a thicket of brambles encumbering a path. His words brought sympathetic tears to her eyes, and from what she could see in her peripheral vision, Kaidan's too. His letter was still fresh in her mind. Is this what he sounded like at her memorial? The tears came faster as she struggled to keep herself from thinking about it.

When there were no more speakers, the final roll call was taken. Kaidan moved from his assigned seat and into the aisle, then took his place at the base of the stage. He called the names of the current soldiers aboard the Normandy, who declared their presence when their names were spoken. Then, Kaidan came to to the last name on the list.

His voice rang out, "Commander James Vega." There was no response.

"Commander James Vega."

The silence was broken by loud sobs from the front row where James' cousin and uncle were seated.

"Commander James Roberto Vega."

The entire city seemed to hush in the moments after his full name was called. Only the rustle of the flags could be heard. The crowd rose. Soldiers saluted, while civilians held their hands over the hearts. The ceremony's bugler took her place at the corner of the stage and licked her lips before slowly raising her instrument. The first two long, lonely notes of "Last Post" intoned from the bugle's bell, sailing across the concourse on the humid air. Those two notes held all the respect and sorrow in Shepard's heart. They were never unwelcome or worn out. Their effect remained just as strong each time she heard them: to remind her that the deceased's duty was done.

A mentor should not outlive their mentee, but that was the reality of being a soldier. Still, Shepard couldn't help but dwell on the fact that she'd dodged certain death twice, while James had died during a standard N7 mission. If there was a god, they were certainly nonsensical and uncharitable (to put it mildly); she was sure of it. Because a galaxy without James felt incomplete.

At the end of the ceremony, the military and civilian attendees milled about, their voices converging into an innocuous static as they spoke to each other and offered condolences to James' family. The politicians and officials, meanwhile, burbled amongst themselves, their words ones of surreptitious cajoling and maneuvering.

Steve made his way through the crowd to find Shepard.

"That was a lovely tribute, Steve. Thank you," she said, placing a soft hand on his upper arm.

Wiping the tears away from his eyes, he nodded. "Do—do you mind if I invite some of James' crew along to dinner? They were asking after you earlier."

"Oh no, of course not." Shepard smiled as she remembered what a lively bunch they were. "I've met them before, actually, when they were on shore leave in Tokyo. I'm sure we'll have lots of stories to share."

A velvety voice addressed her from behind. "Would you mind if I join as well?"

Shepard turned and peered over her shoulder. Hanging back in a rigid stance, Miranda waved, her other hand cradling her elbow.

"Miranda, you made it!"

Miranda smoothed the front of her dress. "I did. Arrived a little late thanks to all the traffic, but I found a seat at the back."

"Miranda, I'm glad you could make it," said Steve.

"Hello, Steve." She held out a gloved hand and gave him a polite handshake. "I'm still alive today because of Commander Vega. I owe him a debt of gratitude. The least I can do is to pay my respects."

Shepard stood on her tiptoes to lift her head above the crowd. "Um, Kaidan's here somewhere too."

"I think he went to speak with Admiral Mikailovich," said Steve.

"I have no doubt he did." Miranda's voice dripped with contempt. "Oh, I ran into someone you might know. I guess I wasn't the only one running late."

"Oh? Who's that?" asked Shepard.

The breeze blew her hair across her face as a tall figure approached and parted the crowd. "Excuse me," he said, slipping between a chair and a whispering couple.

That rumble. That voice. Instantly, Shepard pushed the hair from her eyes and looked beyond Miranda's shoulder. Her heart vaulted across the concourse as Garrus strode toward her, the long tails of his navy blue suit sweeping up behind him. His eyes were fixed on her dumbstruck face.

"Garrus…"

Miranda smirked as Shepard pushed past her.

"Shepard."

As he stepped closer, they reached out with outstretched arms and held each other's hands, each cognizant of the fact that they were at a public memorial service.

Shepard's eyes welled as she gazed up at him. "Wh—what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pay my respects to Vega, of course."

"My god, what happened to you? Your neck!"

"This?" Garrus snatched at his heavily bandaged burn, a futile attempt to hide the injury from her. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a little burn. I'm alright."

Shepard frowned and ran the backs of her fingers across his mandible. "I didn't think you'd be here today. I didn't even know…the last time we spoke—" Her throat was closing up.

"I'm sorry. I know you must have been worried. They evacuated the whole unit to Cipritine…it's a long story."

"It doesn't matter, I'm just happy you're ok. But how are you here? What about—"

"The Primarch? He's the one who told me to go. Admiral Hackett contacted him the day before yesterday, thought I might want to be here for Vega's memorial. He was right, of course." He shook his head. "That tough bastard survived the war and now he's gone? It doesn't feel real."

"It doesn't…" Furrowing her brow, Shepard had almost forgotten they weren't alone when a voice rang out behind her.

"Garrus! My god, I didn't expect you to make it today!" Kaidan stepped forward, holding his hand out for a friendly handshake.

"Kaidan, Steve. It's good to see you both." He shook Steve's hand as well. "I'm sorry to hear about Vega. He was one hell of a soldier, one of the best I've ever worked with. Saved my ass more times than I can count. He'll be sorely missed."

"I think that goes for all of us. Glad you could make it," replied Steve. "Listen, a group of us are headed out after this—to catch up, to remember James. You're more than welcome to join us."

"Thanks, I'd like that."

Steve glanced at Shepard, then back at Garrus. "If you don't mind, I need to speak with Vega's uncle about the Star of Terra. I've been designated as the point of contact for the family. Catch you later?"

"Of course. We'll be there," said Shepard. As Steve left, she gazed up at Garrus again, her eyes still glimmering and unbelieving.

Miranda cleared her throat. "We're going to find Admiral Hackett. I believe he wanted to speak with us about something—right, Kaidan?"

"He did?"

"Yes." Lips tightened, she glared at Kaidan, furtively poking him in the back of the thigh.

"Ohhh, right, of course." He smiled sheepishly. "We'll see you guys later?"

"Yeah, we'll catch up, don't worry."

Garrus snickered as Kaidan and Miranda slunk away. "Kaidan's a smart guy, but he sure does miss cues sometimes."

"Consequence of being aloof, I suppose. It's a good thing he's got her. I'm sure she schools him good."

Eyeing Shepard up and down, Garrus clucked and flicked his mandibles. "I forgot how…prim you look in Alliance formal wear. I'm not used to it. Still, not a bad look, Shepard."

"This?" Shepard scoffed. "Dress blues make me look like my gran'da on Veteran's Day, but you know, more female. Look at you though. I don't think I've ever seen this uniform." Shepard tried not to gawk, but there was only so much she could do when he looked so dapper.

"This? It's just a civilian suit. Not a lot of call for dress uniform on Palaven these days. Not even sure where mine is. Or if I still have it." Garrus ran his fingers along the lock of hair hanging by her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. "How have you been feeling? This must all be a bit…strange."

"Yeah, it's really weird to have a romantic reunion at a memorial for your dead friend."

Garrus drew a deep breath and paused. "No…I mean with Vega. You were like a mentor to him."

"Oh, yes, sorry." Shepard shrank, embarrassed at her curious thought process. "It is strange. No, you know what? It blows. Total horseshit. He was so proud of himself—how he'd finally found his stride as a leader. He felt good about his life, and now he's gone. And I miss him. I miss him, G." She shut her eyes tight. "He was like a brother to me. A big, muscly, dumb brother."

"A worthy companion."

"Now who's going to ask me awkward questions about my sex life, huh? Who?" She sniffed and swiped at her eyes.

"No one to trade terribly exaggerated stories with. No more oneupmanship."

"No one to crash my shuttles and smash up consoles."

"No one to kick my ass at poker."

The sun illuminated Shepard's drawn cheeks as she looked up with a rueful smile. Garrus enclosed her hands in his and pressed, bringing his forehead to hers.

"I missed you, Circe."

"I missed you too, Garrus."

"I'm sorry about James."

"Me too."

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she squeezed and rested her cheek on his chest. Tears dripped down the front of his suit, staining the faint sheen of its fine fabric. He squeezed back.

She let go. "Shall we?"

"Let's."

Author's notes: I know James is not as popular a character, but I used him a lot in my last playthrough of ME3 and he grew on me a lot. So in my head, he and my Shepard had a close little brother/big sister relationship, befitting the mentor/mentee relationship. I actually made myself really sad writing this chapter!

Song: "Roses From My Friends" - Ben Harper

This may be the last time I see you / But if you keep me in your heart / Together we shall be eternal / If you believe, we shall never part
The stones from my enemies /These wounds will mend / But I cannot survive / The roses from my friends