He'd asked for the post aboard the Normandy.
When he'd found out he was dying, he knew he had to serve with her. He didn't want to fade into obscurity, disappointed because he'd never chased his dream. He'd had to call in every favor that was owed him, and even some that weren't. He'd had to convince his doctors that he should be allowed to serve, that he needed to use his Biotic powers. That it was worth it to keep using them, even if it killed him, because that way he could make a difference.
He had just wanted to meet her. The woman who had held off the Batarian Slavers single-handedly. The woman who had come from one of the most decorated military families in the Alliance. He'd heard so much about her, about how amazing she was, how strong and good and kind.
God she was beautiful. The pictures and videos he'd seen hadn't done her justice. And the stories. They hadn't even come close to preparing him for how good she was.
She'd been genuinely interested in him, his Commander. She took the time to get to know him. Asked him questions about his past, about his dreams.
He'd fallen in love with her a little at a time.
Before they had gone to Virmire, he'd pulled her aside. Told her that he admired her, that he wanted to let her know "in case." She'd smiled politely, had thanked him for his words, and then crushed his heart by telling him that she was sorry, but she just didn't feel the same. She was in love with someone else.
But he was a Marine, and Marines didn't let themselves mope.
So he had come to Virmire to do his job. He'd come to fight Saren and help the woman he loved save the galaxy. Because that was what good Marines did.
But nothing could have prepared him for this. For the way the geth overwhelmed them. For sitting in a puddle of water and guarding a bomb from a race that was not supposed to be a threat.
He told her to save Williams. Told her that he wasn't worth saving. And then he'd whispered those fateful words.
"Commander, I'm dying." There hadn't been time to explain. He'd just hoped she would understand. That she and the rest of the crew wouldn't take it too hard.
He couldn't tell her about the way the biotic implants had ruined his brain. How it was slowly killing him, and how the migraines were just a minor symptom compared to what it was doing to the rest of his body. He hoped she'd understand. Hoped she'd move on with her life.
And instead of wasting away, dying in obscurity in some hospital bed somewhere in the galaxy, instead of getting poked and prodded and tested, he'd die a hero's death. Saving the woman he loved.
He reminded himself of that as he watched the Normandy fly away.
He'd die a hero.