Many things had changed since that day. Nothing had stayed the same.
Captain John Alan Shepard stood behind Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams while she observed the proper folding and handling of a crisp American flag. Only the muffled weeping of a mother in mourning could be heard - the other hundred and twenty-six people in attendance were silent and respectful. The serviceman at the foot of the casket finished the final tuck and passed the tri-cornered flag to the man at his left, which eventually made it to Chief William's hands. She performed a left-face and presented it to Captain Shepard, who took it between his hands and tightly pressed it against his chest. Chief William's gave a solemn salute.
Captain Shepard marched down a marked path toward the family members, his head and eyes locked forward and the flag held tight. He stopped in front of the mother of Corporal Richard Jenkins, performed a left-face, and bent at the waist. Presenting the flag to her, he leaned in close and quietly recited a mantra that he'd obsessed over for several weeks.
"Ma'am, on behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to Country and Corps."
Captain Shepard righted himself, saluted, and returned the way he came, stopping at the head of the casket. Chief William's and her burial detail had already departed and returned to formation elsewhere.
Another group of servicemen some distance away grasped old-fashioned M16A2 rifles in their hands and held them at present arms. Taps was played by a lone bugler. When the song was finished, the detail hoisted up their rifles, took aim over Corporal Jenkin's final resting place, and fired. Fired. Fired. His father had now lost his stiff composure and began to cry as well.
After the service, only Captain Shepard stayed behind; the detail returned to their vehicle to await his return. He offered his family encouraging words of Corporal Jenkin's heroism and fulfillment of his duties. He shook the fathers hand and was hugged by the mother. Captain Shepard thanked the family again, apologized for their loss, and departed, leaving them to grieve and watch as their son was lowered into his grave.
Shepard sighed and began to carry his wary body back to the vehicle so he could depart and hopefully get a good nights rest. He had gotten barely any sleep at all since the climatic battle with Sovereign nearly a month ago; he simply hadn't the time. When the whole of the galaxy wants the attention of their savior, the brass had made it crystal clear that it was his duty to oblige them. If exhaustive paperwork, interviews, and a promotion ceremony weren't enough, this had been the second funeral he had attended in the last week. The first had been to lay to rest a man John Shepard had come to rely on as not just an outstanding officer, but as a good friend.
Kaiden Alenko, posthumously awarded the rank of Staff Lieutenant, had been honored in a private ceremony, seeing as how he had no family to speak of. Only the crew of the Normandy and friends from other deployments attended. One of them was a woman of startling beauty and grace who introduced herself as Rahna Güney. Shepard knew her from his periodic talks with Kaiden, and none of what the Lieutenant had told him about her had been exaggerated. The two had not kept in touch since BAaT but extranet leaks made the casualty reports of Virmire and the Citadel public, and Rahna had noticed Kaiden's name among the fallen. No one was sure how she found out about the ceremony but no one begrudged her attendance.
Shepard slid his keycard through the reader of his hotel room door and opened it with the back of his hand. He stumbled in and stared blankly at the four walls of his accommodations, curling his lip in a disapproving scowl. "For all the fame," he said out loud, "you'd think they could put me up in a four-star suite." He removed the jacket of his dress blue uniform and hung it neatly in his closet. The rest of his uniform, however, was thrown carelessly at the foot of his bed; His necktie was thrown like a bola and wrapped around the base of a lamp. Now free of his restraints, Shepard poured himself a glass of cognac and sat on the floor. The carpet was more comfortable than the bed or the desk chair, he discovered.
Shepard shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, periodically taking a sip of his drink. He reveled in the silence and the chance to be alone with his thoughts. He had a lot to think about, too. The most immediate concern was a meeting he had to attend on post at 1800, which was sure to fatten his schedule further.
The door trembled under heavy knocks and Shepard's eyes snapped open. Genuinely startled by the tenacity of his guest, Shepard glanced around the room for a weapon before even standing up. A moment passed before he realized that it was doubtful someone would attack him here (he had rented the room under an assumed name). He had become more prone to paranoia since his return and made a mental note to address the issue at some point. He approached and unlocked the door, opening it only when he was sure his look of disapproval of being bothered was obvious enough. His features softened when he realized who it was.
"Oh, hello Chief."
Ashley William's crooked her eyebrow at the sight. Her commanding officer, a paragon of military discipline and good conduct, was wearing a wife-beater t-shirt and plaid boxer shorts, and drinking. It was only 1400 and he was drinking.
Shepard was similarly surprised by the appearance of his top non-com. He'd only seen her hair down once before and though he wouldn't admit it to her, he believed she looked better with it up. Still, it was endearing that she'd managed to relax and enjoy the time off she'd so rightly earned. "Hey Commander. How's the breeze?"
"Refreshing," Shepard retorted, having learned to keep his wit sharp while in Ashley's presence. "What can I do for you, Chief?"
Ashley shrugged and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a teasing kiss on the corner of his lips. "Unless the cameras are following us, John, you can start by not calling me by my rank."
Shepard smiled and dragged her into his room, accompanied by girlish giggles and the sound of the door being kicked shut. It had been awhile since the couple had spent any personal time together, despite how often it was promised. The next two hours made up for a month of veritable neglect. When it was time for Shepard to leave and attend the briefing, he nearly had to restrain Ashley to keep her from yanking him back. Each time the door was opened, the room was progressively more sullied then before. The third time Shepard did manage to make it out, but only because Ashley wasn't willing to chase him naked down the hall.
The briefing was more casual than usual. This was because Admiral Mikhailovich was not present; he had other obligations to attend to. The Admiral's cynicism and thinly-veiled insults had a way of souring the mood. Tomorrow Shepard had a physical scheduled for 0900, though he'd been aware of it for some time. His closest friends and confidants pressured him into getting a full medical screening after the battle with Saren's automated remains, as Ashley and Garrus had. He didn't think it was necessary but it was now being treated as an order rather than a request. He couldn't refuse it anymore.
At 1230 he was to pack up his belongings and prepare for the three-day journey to Gagarin Station, commonly known as Jump Zero. There he would meet with a group of krogan diplomats to arrange for the continued efforts in discovering a cure for their genetic sterilization. Chairman Anderson would also be in attendance. This time it was a joint effort between the Systems Alliance and the Salarian Union, whom had finally been convinced to lend aid by the now human-attended Council. This was at the behest of Wrex, whom Shepard had promised that his patience and understanding at Virmire would be rewarded. Shepard had to honor that promise, even though he hadn't heard from or seen Wrex since Sovereign's destruction.
Somehow, Shepard planned on fitting in a return to the Citadel to lend his help with the reconstruction. Since the Citadel's true purpose as a mass relay had been revealed, the station had been almost totally abandoned; only a few construction workers and security details remained. The Council had been relocated to the Destiny Ascension, which had also been damaged by Sovereign's invasion fleet. However, it was in considerably better shape than the Citadel and was being guarded by a huge number of warships provided by all four Council races. The Destiny Ascension currently held orbit over Thessia, in case immediate reinforcements from the nearby asari were needed.
For the first time since the asari discovered the Citadel over 3,000 years ago, it was being explored in detail. Whenever the crew met an obstacle they could not cross, they were given authorization to use demolitions. Reports indicated that they had discovered large numbers of inactive Keepers and the place where they were being "born," but they hadn't yet found the element zero core that powered the gigantic mass relay. Until they did, no one would be allowed to live on the station. It was simply to much of a risk with the ever-present threat of the Reapers now gripping the galaxy.
That night, Shepard stayed awake for hours. He was tired, both from his daily activities and the insatiable hellcat sleeping on his right, but couldn't manage to keep his eyes shut. He'd publicly promised to deal with the Reapers no matter what the personal cost and had been deemed as a hero for it. But could he live up to that responsibility? What if the Reapers returned in full-force? Just one had decimated much of the Citadel fleet and a large portion of the Alliance fleet. How could they hope to stand against a second Reaper? Or a dozen? Or a hundred? Shepard knew it would be a hopeless battle and so did anyone who had attended and survived the invasion, but they couldn't tell the galaxy that. Sovereign had already caused wide-spread panic throughout hundreds of worlds but they had mostly been placated through well-orchestrated lies. Shepard didn't think he could effectively deceive quadrillions of people a second time.
The next morning, Shepard was up bright and early - he had to be, or else he'd have to drug Ashley to escape. He was in Dr. Chakwas's office an hour prior and insisted the whole thing be finished as soon as possible. Dr. Chakwas came all the way from her home in Surrey to administer the physical herself because Shepard didn't trust any other doctor. In fact, he noticeably cringed whenever one walked by. The procedure lasted no more than fifteen minutes, including the needed tests and blood work. She mocked her former CO with a lollypop and asked him to wait outside. The results of his tests would be ready in less than an hour.
The door to the medical ward swung open roughly fifty minutes later and Dr. Chakwas stepped out, stepped around Shepard's legs, and took a seat beside him. She looked distressed and nervous, which unnerved him more than anything. He'd seen her extract shrapnel from a sucking chest wound without so much as a batted eyelash. To see her unnerved now forced him to look away.
"Doctor, just spit it out. The silent treatment doesn't suit you."
Dr. Chakwas sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She nodded once and set the papers in her hands on the cushion next to her. "You have a malignant brain tumor, John. If we don't schedule you for immediate surgery, you'll be dead in a month."