Salvation Shorts 1: Fugue for the Lost

by Jesse De La Rosa

Hours after the safe return of the Carmenta Illustria, our heroes Dr. Gordon Freeman and Commander John Shepard find themselves checked into Huerta Memorial Hospital to begin the long road to recovery from their grievous injuries sustained. Gordon's in no hurry to leave, especially when Miranda stops in to see him. Shepard, however, has to pay his final respects to a fallen hero.

Salvation Shorts #1

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction short story is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes, shorts, and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters are property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

Fugue for the Lost

Tali sat reclining in a large, plush chair, with her legs crossed, as she thumbed through an issue of "Galaxi Magazine". She was glancing at the pictures more than anything else. An article headline would catch her attention here and there. A story about the recent omni-gel shortage. Humans as the newest council race. The Reapers: Fact or Fiction? As well as an article about the recent and tragic loss of the Alliance's highly decorated Commander John Shepard.

"Hmph," Tali chuckled a bit, when she glanced over the article, before flipping back to the cover and noticing the date: November 9th 2183. This publication was nearly two years old now, but that's the sort of reading material one can expect to find in a place like a hospital waiting room. Old magazines that have been worn, torn, and handed down - void of any groundbreaking or contemporary charm. The Quarian sighed as she closed the publication and placed it down on the empty seat next to her. She slouched down in her chair and glanced out the massive pane window before her, looking past the massive embossed letters which read "Huerta Memorial Hospital" out onto the Citadel Presidium. Outside, Commuters whizzed by in their X3Ms. The Citadel's artificial sky wrapped the area as far as the eye could see in a cloudy blue blanket, and the fake sun shimmered off of the tranquil waves of the false lakes on the Presidium.

A shudder washed over her body just then. A happy shudder. She'd recently been overwhelmed with feelings of nervousness and anxiety, but she was all too happy to have them. It was like the feeling one gets during the slow ascent of a roller coaster, as it climbs to the apex of its first drop. You've been waiting for it for a while now, it's something you want, you know you're going to enjoy it, but yet, that uneasy, unsettled feeling is always there. Until the moment finally comes, and you throw your hands up in the air, and ride the g-force all the way down. Tali glanced down at the radiant, shimmering, tanzanite diamond ring on the index finger of her left hand, and smiled.

"Commander, please!" A woman's voice pressingly called out, with a mild french accent, causing Tali to sit up and shuffle around in her seat, towards the source of the commotion. "You really need to get more rest if you don't want to exacerbate your condition!"

Realizing very quickly that the disturbance was either being caused by, or somehow involving, her new fiancee, she quickly stood up and headed towards the rear of the waiting area, near the corridor leading to the patient rooms.

A large set of double doors slid shut behind Commander John Shepard, who was fumbling to slide his left arm into the sleeve of a navy blue dress jacket, as part of his formal Alliance Uniform. He walked with a pronounced limp, mitigated only slightly by a plain, black ebony cane in his right hand. A middle-aged, female doctor, in a red and white medical uniform, with short red hair fanned out around her neckline, tagged along beside Shepard, pleading with the man to listen to reason, with a worried and perplexed look on her face.

"Your stitches and the medigel need time to set, and you're due for another IV infusion in four hours!"

"Well then, I'll be back in four hours." John nonchalantly replied, as he slid his coat on over his shoulders, and began trying to fasten the buttons, with one hand.

"John?" Tali queried with profound concern in her voice, as she cautiously approached. "Is everything alright?"

"Couldn't be better, my love!" The Commander was quick to assure, with a sly grin. "I feel like a million creds."

"That's because of the pain killers you're on!" The female doctor anxiously put forth. "They're going to wear off, and you're going to be crippled with pain! You had internal bleeding, Commander! You've got two fractured ribs, a herniated disk, and two gunshot wounds. Quite frankly I have no idea how you're even walking!"

"Listen Doctor-" Shepard began, as he turned back to the red headed physician. "-I appreciate the concern, but you said I was cleared from danger, right?"

"That's right, but I strongly advise you not-"

"Then excuse me, but I really have to be going!" John adamantly put forth, without hesitation, as he continued the endeavor of fastening his coat.

"John, where are you going?!" Tali beseeched, with a sense of angst not only matching but exceeding the Doctor's. "If Dr. Michel thinks you should stay longer, then why are you in such a rush to leave? And what are you getting dressed up for?"

Shepard sighed. "Tali…" He began, in an almost pleading tone of voice. "They're having funeral services for the Councilors at the Citadel Tower as we speak…"

The instant the words left his mouth, she immediately began to understand.

"You know Anderson was like a father to me." He continued. "The only father I ever knew… I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him. The least I can do is be there for his funeral."

Tali exhaled a long drawn-out sigh, as she nodded, and let her head droop down over her chest. "Of course, John…"

Dr. Chloe Michel's eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell ajar, with disbelief. "Ms. Zorah!?" She beckoned. "Your fiancee is in no condition to go traipsing about the Presidium! If he's not careful he could seriously re-injure himself. Aren't you going to try and talk some sense into him?!"

"I'm sorry Dr. Michel," Tali remorsefully put forth, as she glanced up at her. "But if this is something he feels he needs to do, then I can't stop him. I'll do my best to take care of him, and I'll have him back here for his next IV infusion."

Dr. Michel's sigh rumbled against her lips, like a dying, conked-out motor. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Very well." She conceded with an aggravated shrug. "Don't say I didn't warn you… I'm only a Doctor, what do I know!?" She griped, as she about-faced and rushed back towards the double-doors to attend to her more obedient patients.

John couldn't help but snicker. He knew she meant well, but what was considered a grievous injury for most, had no greater significance to him that say, a paper-cut. He had been dead once before, after all.

"I won't try to stop you John, of course." Tali suddenly chimed in again, drawing the Commander's attention back to her. "But are you sure you won't reconsider just staying put and getting some rest? You do too much… And besides, if it hadn't been for those hijackers, we'd still have been on the Illustria for another four days, anyway."

"True, but I didn't hear about these funeral services until I was actually ON the Illustria." John casually retorted. "Had I known about it sooner, I would've postponed the trip. The way I see it, I have something of a chance now to say farewell to one of the greatest men the galaxy has ever known - I'm not going to miss that opportunity."

Tali nodded and sighed. "And I wouldn't ask you to. Just promise me you'll take it slow, okay?"

"Anything you say, bright eyes." He said, with a modest grin, as he began hobbling forward, leaning the weight from the right-side of his body mostly onto the cane he'd been supplied with. "Hey, you don't think I'm getting too old for this sort of thing, do you?"

---

A recumbent Free Man creaked a bit, in a groggy state, as if he were trying to pry himself out of his slumber. But the soft, plush pillow felt so good wrapped around his head, and the sheets and bed felt cozy and pleasant - as if he were resting atop a cloud.

He never was an early riser. Probably one of the reasons he was almost always late for work. Even on his very last day at The Facility. But as he subconsciously tried to tell himself to wake up, his body ignored the order. After all, he was weary and afflicted - and he had no where in particular to be right now, so a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. That is until he heard the loud, grating sound of something scraping across the floor.

"HUH!?" He shouted, with a start, as he shot up on his bed - eyes peeled wide, teeth grit, and shaking hands clenched into white-knuckle fists.

"Gordon! Easy, easy, it's me," A fair-skinned brunette's gentle voice worriedly assuaged. "Calm down, take a breath."

Freeman's eyes floated to her, and almost immediately the tension in his semblance faded. "Oh, Miranda," He sighed with relief when he noticed her standing over him. "It's only you," He said, as he sank back down onto his bed.

Miranda beamed a modest, if worried, smile as she gingerly took a seat in a chair beside him. She was back to being dressed in her usual white, form fitting, leather uniform, with black sleeve ensemble. A small gash across her forehead, directly beneath her hairline was sewn together with half a dozen stitches, and a small adhesive bandage covered a red, swollen welt on her left cheek. Despite the minor injuries the radiant look in her eyes conveyed she was in good spirits.

It was the same for Gordon as well, though his eyes did show a more acute sense of awareness. He was a bit more battered than she was. There was some minor swelling and bruising around both his eyes, his right forearm was once again encased in a silvery, metallic cast, and a few spots on his face, here and there, were stitched up with a few small suture points. But he'd been through worse, and lived to talk about it, yet again. He was covered up to his chest in a thin, plain white sheet, as he laid recumbent on the hospital bed and he was also back to wearing the same targeting visor he'd been using over his eyes - a prolonged substitute for his destroyed black framed glasses.

"Of course it's me." Miranda remarked with a bit of a titter, as she dragged her seat closer to his bedside, causing it to let out the same grinding shriek that had startled Gordon the first time. "Who did you think it was, that got you so agitated?"

"I dunno…" Freeman remarked with a shake of his head and a long, drawn out sigh. "No one, really. Lately, I've just always got this, this like-" His shaky right hand hovered over his heart, as he tried to describe the sensation. "-this uneasiness… Like a mounting tension in my chest all the time. It's like I'm always in fight or flight mode now. I… I always feel like any minute I'm gonna hear some huge explosion, or a bunch of guys in uniform are gonna barge in and start killing people. I think that's the norm for me now. It's what I come to expect every day…"

"With everything you've been through, that's no surprise." Miranda offered up, with a mild sense of concern in her voice, as she interlocked her fingers, crossed her legs, and leaned back in the chair - almost taking on the guise of a consulting psychiatrist herself. "You're exhibiting onsets of post-traumatic stress disorder. Armed forces personnel are required to undergo at least ten days of psychological resilience training to prepare them for stress on the battlefield. That's something you never got. Left unchecked, your anxiety could manifest itself into other serious physical and mental health issues."

"I don't think it's as serious as all that." Gordon reassured, with a dry chuckle. "I mean I think I'm still in tune with reality and my cognitive faculties… That is unless, of course, none of the events after the Resonance Cascade actually happened. And instead of a hospital bed, I'm sitting in an asylum somewhere, wearing a straightjacket, and talking to an orderly. That said, I will admit you are the prettiest orderly I ever saw." He beamed a smile at her.

Miranda tried to withhold her own, but her lips curled and her cheeks donned a rosy hue, as she exhaled a suppressed giggle. "Gordon, I'm being serious." She retorted, trying to maintain her austere tone. "I'd like you to start having sessions or at least talking with Yeoman Chambers."

"...Yeoman Chambers?" Gordon reiterated, as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling and pondered a bit. "You mean the red-head that's always by the galaxy map on the Normandy?"

"Yes."

"What is it you want me to talk to her about?" He asked again, with a bewildered shrug.

"She's a trained psychologist, Gordon." Miranda proceeded to explain, taking a proud and stately tone. "When I selected the Normandy's crew, I filled each and every position with experts in their field, including someone who could take on the tasks of a Yeoman and be able to offer counseling services to crew members. I knew the stress and emotional baggage that would come with the missions we would be undertaking. So I picked an aspiring and intelligent young girl, with a psychology degree from the University of Pennsylvania, who was looking to travel the galaxy."

Gordon took on a crooked grin. "So you think I need therapy, huh?"

"I think it wouldn't hurt for you to actually open up and talk to somebody if you need to." Miranda responded.

"Maybe…" Freeman submitted, looking down, in a ponderous state. He was quiet for a moment, before his eyes turned back up at her. "...Have you talked to her?" He asked.

"Of course I have, I'm the one who hired her." Miranda indifferently declared, with a nonchalant shrug. "And besides, her credentials speak for themselves."

"That isn't what I meant, Miranda." Gordon retorted with a sigh, and a shake of his head. "I mean we've both got that 'emotional baggage' right?" He questioned, as he air quoted by his head with two sets of fingers. The brunette looked away. "You've been through a lot too - and not just the fighting and the killing… I'm talking about your past - those issues with your dad, you told me about."

"He is not my 'dad', Gordon, he's my biological father!" Miranda quickly snapped back, with a clear sense of pain and resentment in her voice, in spite of her best efforts to conceal it. "And there are no 'issues' with him." She pointedly asserted. "I got Orianna away from him safely. He has no idea where she is, and I plan to keep it that way. He's not a part of her life OR mine." She said, waving a dismissive hand as if to wave off the subject. "As far as I'm concerned, he was a problem that's been resolved, and doesn't warrant further discussion."

"Okay, okay… I'll accept that." Gordon quickly acceded, as put up a pair of surrendering hands, not waiting to cause her any undue agitation. "But no matter what he did to you - don't forget, you're still only human." He tenderly put forth, sounding empathetic more than anything else, coaxing her to glance back at him. "You don't have to try to be more than that - genes or no genes." He said with a grin, that broke her. She couldn't help but smile back, but her eyes still told a tale of hardship and loneliness.

"I am glad your sister is safe though. I can tell you really care about her." Gordon spoke up again, as his own mournful eyes turned back down towards his sheets, and sank. "I miss my brother…" He gulped, trying to swallow the knot in his throat, along with those damned feelings of pain and perdition down deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Anyway…" He continued; his head propping back up again, as he mustered a fraudulent pep back into his voice. "What brings you up here? I thought you'd gone to check us in at the hotel."

"...I figured I'd stick around here for a bit." Miranda hesitated to answer - perhaps trying to swallow back her own emotions in a similar show. She settled back down into her chair, and shrugged. "Thought I'd come see how you were doing. Besides, I think that McClane woman might be getting treated in one of these rooms somewhere." She continued, sort of looking around, as her tone of voice grew bothered and cynical. "I don't exactly like the way I caught her eyeing you a few times."

"Eheh…" Gordon coughed up an uneasy chuckle, as his eyes started darting back and forth like a tennis ball over a net. "Not uh-Not sure what you mean by that, but I don't think you have to worry about her anymore." He steadied his voice and said. "I think she took off to Earth to find that underground chamber where I was being kept in stasis. You know, I actually wouldn't mind seeing that place myself… Seeing where it was that that-" Gordon trailed off a bit as a shudder rattled his body - the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his arms swelled with goosebumps when he started up again. "-that 'G-Man' or whatever he was called - that awful ghost of a man - I'd like to see where it was he kept me frozen against my will for the past hundred and eighty years."

At that instant, the door to the room unexpectedly slid open. "Hello, Mr. Freeman!" The same red-headed french physician previously squabbling with Shepard greeted, as she walked in reviewing a datapad. "And how is our patient doing tod- Oh, I'm sorry…" She abruptly stopped and excused herself upon glancing up and noticing the brunette in the room. "I didn't realize you had a visitor."

"It's alright, Doctor. Don't mind me." Miranda cordially insisted. "I just thought I'd keep him a bit of company."

"Oh, that's nice." Dr. Michel admitted, with a humble smile. "I take it you're planning on staying until you're actually released then, are you?"

"Why?" Gordon asked, with a mild titter and a hint of worry in his voice. "Is there a burning building somewhere I'm supposed to be running into?" He scoffed and laughed. "'Cause that's about the only thing I haven't done yet."

"No, no, of course not!" Dr. Michel guffawed in response, with a shake of her head, as she approached his opposite bedside, across from Miranda. "I'm just surprised that not all of Commander Shepard's teammates are as quick to ignore doctor's orders as he is."

"What do you mean?" Miranda asked, perplexed, as she sat forward in her chair.

"What I mean is, he just left-" The red-headed physician nonchalantly elaborated, as she approached a small holographic console attached to the head of Gordon's bed, and began punching in a few keys. "-despite my insistent advice not to do so."

"He left?!" Gordon beckoned, with a furrowed brow.

"Mm-hmm." Chloe nodded. "Off to the funeral services for the Galactic Council."

"Oh that's right, of course." Miranda muttered in a whisper, as Gordon glanced back to her. "Their funeral is going on right now. Shepard must've gone to pay his last respects to Anderson."

"...Anderson?" Gordon questioned.

"David Anderson. The first human Councilor." Miranda supplemented. "He was Shepard's Captain aboard the original Normandy."

"Oh..." Gordon said, as he looked down and pinched his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Yeah, I think I remember John mentioning him to me once. "

"More than likely." The brunette operative agreed. "He's the one who got Shepard into the N7 program, and the one who recommended him for initiation into the Spectres. The two of them were very close. I think Shepard saw him as something of a father figure."

"It's still no excuse…" Chloe chided, with a frustrated shake of her head, as she continued to type away on the terminal. "But I suppose if it were my own father I had lost…" She stopped for a moment, and slipped into a momentary state of contemplation. Her eyes sank listlessly, as she gulped at something in her throat. But it didn't take long for her to snap back to her duties. She exhaled a quick sigh, and shook her head, as she continued to work the terminal.

"Anyway, it isn't important." She declared, as she summoned a 3-dimensional holographic representation of Gordon's muscular and circulatory system, with certain spots highlighted in red, indicating afflicted areas. "You, Mr. Freeman, I must say are doing rather well, considering all you've been through." She happily disclosed, as she examined the read-out; enlarging it with a swipe of her hand for Gordon and Miranda to look on.

"Aside from some very minor bruising to the vertebrae, the shards of glass we pulled out of your skin, a few dozen superficial contusions, and the bullet-wound to your abdomen - which luckily enough, did not strike any vital organs - you're in excellent shape." She explained as she pointed out the various points of injury to Gordon and Miranda on his holographic double. "Your sutures are holding nicely, and the medi-gel has already begun to set and bond with your body tissue." She explained, as she leaned through the hologram to check the readings on a large metallic arm-band clamped onto Gordon's upper right arm, which had been in the process of feeding a large vial of clear liquid intravenously to his system, at a slow, steady pace. "Mm-hmm…. To be perfectly frank I'd say you'd be cleared to leave by sometime tomorrow." She continued, as she stood back up straight, and punched in a few more keys at his bedside terminal to dismiss the hologram. "Though I recommend plenty of bed rest, and strongly advise against ANY kind of physical exertion for the next few weeks." She said, with the shake of an authoritative finger.

"Oh… Well I think Shepard said we were going to finish out the rest of our vacation here on the Citadel station, right?" Gordon queried, as he sat up in his bed a bit, and turned to Miranda. "He did say another two weeks?"

"Yes, and I think Joker's about ready to eat his hat for being away from EDI and the Normandy for so long, hmph-hmph." Miranda replied with a jovial snicker.

"Well, thank you Doctor." Gordon bestowed with a nod, as he turned back to Chloe. "I appreciate the care."

"Oh, my pleasure. It's always a delight to treat AGREEABLE patients." Dr. Michel assured, with a polite grin. "The nurse will be in with some dinner for you in a few minutes." She said as she turned away and made for the door, while logging something into her datapad. "Just ring if you need anything." As the redheaded MD approached the door, it automatically slid open before her. But rather than step through, she stopped pensive for a moment.

"Uh… Quick question." She reluctantly began, as she turned back towards Gordon and took a step away from the door, allowing it to slide shut again. "I hope I'm not being too forward. But, I've been following the news reports and hearing all the rumors flying about. They're saying that… That you're the 'REAL' Gordon Freeman." She imposed, as she tucked the datapad under her arm, and looked to him with an uneasy eagerness. "That it isn't just your name, but that you really are him. THE Gordon Freeman - the one that fought the Combine during the Earth Rebellion. Is that true? Are you the real Gordon Freeman?"

The patient sighed and chuckled under his breath, as he draped his left hand, over his eyes, like the brim of a cap. "Would it be easier to believe me if I told you I wasn't?" He asked, as he turned his hands palm-up at his sides, and shrugged.

Chloe didn't answer right away. Instead she took a few more calculated steps towards Gordon. She stopped about a foot away from his bed, and locked eyes with him. Gordon's eyes blinked rapidly, as he was suddenly sucked into the silent, awkward moment. He didn't know whether to smile, speak up, or look away. Dr. Michel simply stood there for a few seconds, reading his eyes, studying him. She tilted her head one way, and then the other - giving him the kind of look one would give an abstract painting whilst trying to pull something tangible out of it.

"No…" A lone whisper finally broke her silence, as she softly shook her head. "I don't think I'd believe that… There's something about you… It really is you, isn't it? You really are him." She said, with the held back makings of a giddy laugh. "Oh my god… You've come back to us!" She exclaimed, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, as her eyes lit up. She seemed to brim with disbelief, under her breath, as her pupils darted back and forth.

"I should go!" She quickly blurted out, doing everything in her power to hold back some sort of outburst. She spun around, and breezed back towards the door, which flew open again, in her presence. As she walked through, out of the sight, she leaned back into the doorway one last time. "It was an honor meeting you!" She said, with a laugh, before quickly disappearing.

Miranda and Gordon shared a glance and a chuckle, as the door slid shut behind the Doctor. But before it did, her exuberant ravings could be heard, echoing down the halls. "I think it's really him! It's really Gordon Freeman!"

---

A red RT cab touched down on a presidium landing platform, in the shadow of the prodigious structure that is the Citadel Tower. As the door swung open, an automated voice called for payment. "That will be fifty-three credits."

The stately dressed Commander Shepard materialized his omni-tool and swiped it over a dashboard panel, as Tali exited the vehicle before him. John shuffled over in his seat, and slid out - standing up just as the RT Cab's door swung shut behind him. Its engine buzzed and hummed as it pulled away from the ground and took off in search of its next fare.

As Shepard straightened out his clothing, gazing up at the far-reaching structure, Tali took a quick, cursory look over his person. She eyed him from top to bottom, then shifted her sights behind him and in front.

"Where's your cane?!" She asked, realizing before he did, that he didn't have it with him.

"Aw, damn it!" He griped as he turned around and looked up towards the RT Cab, which at this point was little more than a dark red speck about to rejoin the river of air traffic.

"You left it on the cab, didn't you?" Tali dictated more than she asked, as she crossed her arms and shook her head in disapproval.

"They gave that thing to me back at the hospital." The Commander explained, as he waved his hand dismissively and turned back towards the tower. "I told them I didn't need it. It's no big deal, I'll be fine."

No response came from his future wife, approving or otherwise. When John turned to look at her, what he found was her voluptuous figure shaking her head, and glaring a hole right through him with her luminous eyes.

"Tali, it's not as bad as it seems." He assured, with a shrug and a crooked grin. "They're a hospital. You go in for a splinter, and they wanna keep you overnight for observation. Come on, I'm fine." He said, motioning for them to move forward with a tilt of his head.

"...You're stubborn is what you are." Tali chided under her breath, as she acquiesced, and the two proceeded to move forwards, towards the Tower's main entrance. "Probably the most stubborn person I've ever met."

No sooner had she said that, when a blaring, gruff voice broke out. "Treaty violations are gonna be the least of your problems!" An irate, hulking mass of a krogan yelled into the the Tower foyer, as he stormed out of the entrance, in a frustrated, backwards huff. "You bunch of pyjaks aren't gonna listen until you have another krogan rebellion on your hands!"

"Although, I could be wrong…" Tali muttered aloud, as she almost immediately recognized the voice and visage of her former squadmate.

The krogan abandoning the building, in a vehement fervor, was donned in a set of burgundy armor, not unlike the type worn by members of the Blood Pack; except for the fact that it lacked the trademark skull-fist insignia. The armor was worn and battered. It was riddled with scrapes, scratches, dents, and pock marks in no small number – telltale signs that it was no stranger to battle. And matching the armor closely, both in color and in attrition, was the krogan's own dark red osteoderm browplate. It was aged and blemished, showing the remnant scars and scratches of a thousand healed wounds over a century's long lifetime of conflict. As the krogan's head turned a bit, his sneering pale-yellow face was revealed around his narrowed, scarlet eyes. The reptilian warrior breezed past the couple, so consumed with his own aggravations that he didn't even care to notice them.

"Wrex…?" Shepard uttered, sounding more surprised than uncertain, as the krogan blindly marched forward. At the sound of his name, however, the armored combatant turned back and looked over the two figures with a dubious glance.

"Shepard…?" He asked, unsure. It wasn't long before his narrowed eyes widened with surprise and elation. "Shepard! Tali!" He rushed back to greet the two in proper, outstretching his arms as if about to consume them in embrace, before restraining himself and taking hold of Shepard's hand for a hearty shake. "Hah! My friends!" He jubilantly exclaimed as he let go of the Commander's hand and took Tali's in turn.

"Hi, Wrex." Tali greeted, with the makings of a giggle in her voice. "You're looking well."

"Yeah, so are you!" He proclaimed, as he let go of Tali's hand, and took a step back, as if wanting to give himself some room to get a look at the both of them "It's great to see the two of you! I've been wondering where you've been, I haven't seen you since you were last on Tuchanka!"

"Oh, we've been around." John put forth, with a sarcasm mired sigh. "You know... Getting shot at, beaten to a pulp." He said, as he shifted his weight onto his good leg.

"I can see that." Wrex nodded, as he crossed his arms. "But you don't look half bad for someone who went toe to toe with a Reaper."

"Actually, this was mostly done by a pissed off krogan." John shrugged. "A pissed off Weyrloc krogan."

"...Weyrloc?" Wrex replied questioningly, as he furrowed a perplexed brow. "But you took out clan Weyrloc. The ones that survived, we took in and made Urdnots."

"All except for this one, I suppose. Big krogan - went by the name of Kargas."

"Kargas, hmm…" Wrex's throat rattled with a pensive hum, as he tapped a musing finger to his chin. "I know the name." He declared at the recollection. "He's a green crested fool. An even bigger, blood-thirsting fanatic than Guld."

"Well, he was." Shepard coyly offered up, with a contrite roll of his eyes.

"Dead?" Wrex asked. Shepard closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Hmph. I guess he'd have to be if he cross paths with you." The krogan put forth with a chuckle. "Looks like he really gave your face a pounding before he went, though. Not that human faces aren't already nauseating enough to begin with. Matter of fact, I'd say it's an improvement!" He joked with a cheeky grin.

John scoffed. He rolled his eyes and turned to Tali. "And of all the krogan I had to make friends with, I get the one who thinks he's funny."

"Hey, I know I'm funny!" Wrex heartily assured, with snicker under his breath. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you two still hanging around each other." He said, shifting gears, as he noticed Tali and Shepard seemingly closer than ever. "Matter of fact, what's this I've heard about a betrothal?"

Tali and John both seemed to share a sheepish, shyful glance - teeth grinned and eyes fluttering. "Yeah, we're gettin' older Wrex…" The Commander was the one who eventually spoke up. "We don't live a thousand years. Figured it was time to settle down, and tie the knot." He shrugged cheerfully.

"Yeah, the one around your neck maybe, if you do something Tali doesn't like." The krogan quipped happily. "Never seen a quarian who could handle a shotgun the way she does!" He said with a laugh. "Anyway, living a thousand years isn't all it's cracked up to be, Shepard." He continued - his voice suddenly taking on a more sullen, dour tone. "You can have all the wisdom in the galaxy and still no one listens to you just because you're a krogan."

"What do you mean, Wrex?" Tali asked.

The big krogan looked up, looking between her and Shepard, before simply sighing, and shaking his head as he let it fall again. "I came here to speak to the Interim Council." He grievously began to explain. "To… 'respectfully' request a cure for the genophage. See, while you two were off on Xan."

"Xen." Shepard succinctly corrected.

"Whatever." Wrex indifferently dismissed before continuing. "While you were off playing with your new little green friends, the Urdnots along with most of the other Tuchanka clans were on Earth defending your pitiful rock from the Reapers."

"I heard about that." Shepard admitted. "I've also heard the Urdonts have been very instrumental in the clean-up of the Reapers. You have my thanks, Wrex." He bestowed with an obliged nod.

"Well at least you're always grateful Shepard, which is more than I can say about rest of the galaxy." The krogan continued - accepting the Commander's gratitude, but finding little solace in it. "I figured after the role the krogans played in the Battle of the Black Tide, the interim councilors might be a little more open minded then the last council." He scoffed and sneered at the thought of his own naivety.

"Oh, they were gracious enough to give me some of their time. All thirty seconds of it…!" He snapped, as his anger and frustrations came surging back "They basically told me I should be thankful they wouldn't be taking punitive actions against me for being in direct violation of the Treaty of Canrum - the treaty that demilitarized the Krogan - and that my request would not be heard at this time."

"Well, I doubt the interim council would be the ones to make that kind of decision anyway, Wrex." John put forth with an optimistic shrug. "Why don't you give it time? Wait for a new official council to be elected, then submit your appeal again."

"Shepard, I'm flattered you think so much of the krogan." Wrex groaned and laughed all at once. "My people may have many outstanding qualities, but patience has never been one of them…"

"Wrex, I'm curious." Tali inquisitively interjected. "For how long have you been rearming Tuchanka? I didn't even know the Krogan had a fleet."

"Ever since the destruction of the first Normandy." He replied to her before turning to face the Commander once more. "When you died, Shepard - Seeing what we saw on Virmire… What one Reaper could do to the Citadel… I knew war was coming. Not that I can't tear Reapers apart with my bare hands-" He said with a feigned, false-hearted chuckle. "-but I wasn't about to wage a war unarmed. For the past two years I've had the Tuchanka clans stockpiling weapons and scavenging parts from Korlus. My own ship, the Bloodspear, is a mish mashed patchwork of a dozen different ships. She held her own against the Reapers, though. But now that they're dead, there's no war left to fight." He trailed off into a despondent sigh before resuming. "The krogan are getting desperate for a cure." He said, glancing back and forth between the human and the quarian. "I'm doing my best to keep the clans in line, but it's only a matter of time before hostilities break out again."

"Well, you can't give up hope, Wrex." Tali offered up, almost pleadingly. "A cure won't happen overnight. And with the Reapers gone, things have to get better - for everyone - even the krogan."

"Don't kid yourself, Tali." Wrex grumbled, despite being appreciative of her optimism and idealistic nature. "We're a broken race... We don't have the numbers we once had. They thinned us out when they neutered us with the genophage. And whatever they decide to unleash on us next will probably finish us off… I'm starting to think that that's what my people want." He said, forcing indifference, as he turned his head and gazed out into the distance - where the Presidium's artificial sky met the horizon. "What everybody wants…"

"Damn it, the genophage needs to end!" The Commander asserted, with a roused fervor and a sense of righteousness, as Tali looked on - nodding in agreement. "It's a travesty that's tantamount to genocide. If there's anything I can do Wrex, you have it." He expressed, in earnest. "I'll do whatever I can to get the people to listen."

A humble grin grew on the krogan's pale, scarred face. "Shepard, you don't owe us anything." He gratefully bestowed. "Matter of fact, the whole damn galaxy owes you more than they'll ever know. But I know you've always had the best interest of the krogan in mind. My people couldn't ask for a better ally. And for that I thank you." He assured as he stepped forward and offered his hand - a gesture that Shepard was all too willing to reciprocate. The two shook for a moment, and separated.

"Well, I've gotta be getting back to Tuchanka." He continued, none too enthused. "It's time to go lie to my people again, by telling them the Council was receptive to the needs of the krogan. A cure's just gonna take a little longer than we thought. I assume you're here for funeral services of the Councilors."

"Yeah…" Shepard ruefully admitted, in soft tone. "I came to pay my last respects to Anderson."

"I didn't know him like you did, Shepard. But I could tell he was a proud warrior." Wrex said, reverently. "He had krogan strength in him. And I heard he went the way any warrior would've wanted to go - fighting the reapers tooth and claw to the very end."

John didn't reply. He just seemed to slip into a pensive silence as his eyes sank and turned to the floor - his expression, sullen.

"Anyway, I'll let you get in there." He urged, as he motioned with his head towards the Citadel Tower. "They haven't said any words for Anderson yet. Lidanya was just finishing her eulogy for the asari councilor when I left."

"Thanks Wrex." John bestowed, forcing a grin.

"Thank YOU, Shepard." The krogan replied, with a slow and grateful nod. "Because of you the galaxy has a future again. Maybe one day, the same can be said about the krogan." The two shared a pair of awkward, grief stricken grins that they tried to pass off as cheerful. But they respected each other too much to ever admit it.

When he turned to the quarian, however, Wrex's smile beamed a bit brighter, becoming genuine and optimistic. "Tali-" He addressed, as he took hold of her hand, and shook it. "-don't let the whole 'savior of the galaxy thing' go to his head, alright? You keep him in line." He joked, as he motioned towards John with his head.

"Oh, don't worry." She assured, as she leaned back and crossed her arms cockily. "If he gets out of hand, I'll just do what you'd do. Though I'm not sure a headbutt from me would have the same effect on him as it would coming from you." She said, tapping a finger to the center of her helmet's faceplate.

"Hah, I'm sure it will." The krogan genially offered. "If I didn't know any better Tali, I'd say there was a krogan under that mask. Farewell my friends…" He said, as he swiveled his head back and forth, glancing between the two of them. "Send me a comm next time you're on Tuchanka."

"It'll be soon." The human Commander declared with a steady nod. "We've got a lot to talk about - lotta catching up to do... So long Wrex."

Wrex flashed one final grin at Shepard - an ambiguous smile, almost despondent in nature, before he turned and began a long walk back towards the docking station. John and Tali watched as his visage shrank into the distance - his walk was a bittersweet march. A stride off the triumphant heels of victory against the Reapers, and into an uncertain future…

As he faded into the distance, he disappeared out of sight upon turning a corner. Shepard and Tali both glanced each other, with the same pitying look in their eyes. But with nothing more that could be said, they simply turned and stepped into the Citadel Tower Entrance.

As the elevator car climbed up the shaft, a loud but muffled voice seemed to reverberate off the ceiling. With a gradual halt in inertia, the elevator doors opened up to the pinnacle of the tower - The Council Chambers. A bell chimed and immediately the muffled voice became clear and perceptible. It was a proud but woeful voice resonating across the floor, echoing from the loudspeakers nestled in the walls and ceiling.

"Councilor Valern was never a soldier." The oddly familiar voice declared - echoing across the cavernous chamber, as John and Tali stepped forth out of the elevator, into a wide corridor, lined on both sides by armed and attentive C-Sec Officers in dress uniforms.

"He didn't know how to handle a gun, and I doubt he'd ever even been in a fight-" The voice continued, as the quarian and the Commander proceeded down the hall leading away from the elevator, and up a small flight of stairs which emptied out into the Council Floor's primary atrium. "-But he knew how to win wars and how to bring unity to where there was only unrest. The way he did this was not with weapons - but with the power of words."

Shepard was a proud man, that much was certain, and no one knew this better than his quarian bride to be. But he could also show humility when he needed to. And as they climbed up the short flight of steps, it didn't shame him to lean on her for help, as he limped his way up, one painstaking step at a time. Reaching the top, they were greeted by the familiar sights of water jets, from a fountain encompassing an artificial cherry tree oasis at the very center of the atrium, surrounded by small decorative shrubbery, and overlooked by several levels of shimmering metallic mezzanines all around. The floor itself was dimly lit, as it always was, and smothered by a soft, lavender ambience - perhaps to give the feel of a valley kissed by the dusky hues of a setting sun. The colossal and cavernous room was beautiful; impeccably designed, affluently decorated, and aesthetically vibrant - but it wasn't anything either of them hadn't seen before. Frankly, his investigation into Saren's betrayal some two years ago saw him coming and going from this floor more times than he had been to Earth in recent years - so it had lost a lot of its luster. As the pair continued on, around the railed-off oasis of boulders and cherry trees, they spotted a congregation seated up ahead.

Two massive, metallic panels had sealed the ecological enclosure housed beneath the council chambers, and were now being used as flooring for the several rows of seated visitors paying their final respects. Respects to those at recumbent at peace, within four large caskets at the fore of the crowd, beneath the stage. Each magnificently crafted coffin was draped over with a different flag - from left to right; the flag of the Asari Republics, The Turian Hierarchy, The Salarian Union, and the System's Alliance. Towering over it all, and being cast onto the same alcoves that once held the aspect of Saren Arterius, was the holographic visage of a lone salarian. He was the one presiding over crowd, standing at the room's anterior, before a podium, with the glowing, beaming hologram reflecting his motions in congruence.

"Valern was the one who saw us through the Sur'Kesh insurrections of 2178-" The salarian continued. "-the one who lobbied, with ferocity, against the ongoing batarian slave trade."

The figure, an officer of the elite Salarian STG judging by his distinguished tan dress uniform, was already in the middle of his speech when the two walked in. A figure John immediately recognized as being the one and only Major Colonel Kirrahe - one of the heroes of the tragic Battle of Virmire.

Not wanting to disrupt the inprogress eulogy being delivered so eloquently for the late Councilor Valern, John and Tali made their way around the rows of seating, and found a spot near the wall, to observe quietly under a soft cover of shadow. Shepard leaned against the wall, pressing his back against it, and groaning quietly as a dull pain began to throbb in his calf. He worried a bit about his capacity to remain on his feet throughout the duration of the entire ceremony, but it was a fleeting thought that he quickly dismissed.

"His influence is what aided the abolitionist in the Anhur civil war, keeping it a free world, and a shining beacon of liberty and equality to this day." Kirrahe's impassioned address continued. "When the first Reaper attacked the Citadel two years ago, though he along with the other councilors took refuge aboard the Destiny Ascension, he never neglected command - dictating orders to Salarian Special Tasks groups - including my own, to repel the invading geth insurgents at all costs. To take back the Citadel, and most importantly, to hold the line!" He proclaimed, as he brought a firm fist down on the podium. "For the STG, glory in battle is not our way. And veneration for leadership was not his way. Before the orders were given, the decisions were made. Before there could be peace, there was diplomacy! His words may have felled armies, but they also held the line."

"His influence may have brought peace, but it also held the line… And his orders may have been the difference between fiery conflict and a shining a future. But for all of us here today! For everyone, on every planet, across every star system in the galaxy - for them, they did hold the line!"

The salarian who spoke with that fire - with that demeanor of a General rallying troops gulped - finally allowing himself a moment to stop and feel. He clenched his lips tightly, as he exhaled the burden weighing on his chest. For John, the speech patterns were certainly familiar. He suddenly found himself transported back to that sunny beach, on that fateful day, moments before the battle that claimed Chief Williams. Another life to mourn.

"One day, the Reapers will be nothing but a memory…" Kirrahe began again, taking on a more docile tone. "But of Valern, they will say he did not flag or fail. His was a heart of courage that went on to the end. He stood with his planet. He stood with his galaxy. And he stood refusing to fall..."

The Colonel stopped and slowly stepped out from behind the podium. The high-reaching projection of him faded, as he stepped out of the holoimager's sight. He approached the edge of the elevated floor and looked down at the four caskets lined before the stage - each draped with the flag of their own homeworlds.

"Rest in peace Councilor Valern." He beseeched. There was a quiet dignity about his voice now - a contradiction to the steeled timbre it rang with moments ago. But even so, despite the lack of a microphone, it still managed to carry over the lamenting group of mourners. "You were a leader and a visionary. In the end, it was you who held the line. In the end… You WERE the line. Thank you." The Major Colonel bowed to the sound of applause. His jawline twitched modestly, as he turned and walked to his left towards a small, curving flight of stairs leading down from the stage.

While still making his slow, dignified descent from the platform, a voice from an unseen woman echoed in from the same loudspeakers, and reverberated across the room. "Ladies and gentleman-" It announced, as Shepard shifted his weight on his feet - already starting to feel his own weight take it's toll. "-at this time please welcome Admiral Stephen Hackett, Commanding officer of the Arcturus Fleet, Alliance Navy."

The respected human Admiral, donned in his dress blues, stood from his seat at the front row of the congregation, and began to make his way up towards the stage. The low, respectful clap continued from the crowd. It wasn't like normal applause - more like the sound of a steady rain drumming through a ceiling. Meanwhile, Shepard fidgeted against the wall, struggling to find a position that didn't hurt - which was nearly impossible while standing still, on his feet. He was really starting to regret forgetting that cane.

"John?" Tali whispered, when she noticed the angst on his face.

"It's nothing." He assured, as he motioned up towards the stage - attempting to divert attention as Hackett's path crossed with Kirrahe's allowing the two old soldiers to stop and share eachothers grief.

At that moment, a young Naval Officer seated in the crowd glanced over and took notice of the figures in the shadow. The thing that caught his attention first and foremost was the blinking light from Tali's mouthpiece. As his eyes focused and peered into the darkness, stripping it of its secrets, he quickly discerned the outline of the figure who had become synonymous with human exemplification. With a quick elbow nudge to the fellow soldier seated beside him, he garnered the attention of another.

"John, you're in pain aren't you?" She worriedly queried, as she looked down at him shifting his weight from one leg to another. "You need to get off your feet. I'm going to go ask for a chair."

"Tali, shhh. It's fine." He muttered through his teeth, with a mild grievance in his voice.

"E-excuse me…" A whispering voice interjected, as two young officers approached Shepard with their naval caps tucked beneath their arms. "Commander Shepard. I'm Ensign Marcil, this is Ensign Fox." He humbly began, introducing himself and the officer beside him. "We couldn't help but notice that you don't have a place to sit down."

"Please." Fox continued, as he pointed to two now vacated chairs near the edge of the floor agglomeration. "Take our seats."

"I appreciate it, gentleman." The modest Commander began, obviously preparing to turn the generous offer down. "But I'm fine right h-"

"Commander." Marcil quickly interjected, secretly hoping he wasn't speaking out of turn. "It would be our honor to give our seats up for you."

Shepard turned to Tali, with a look that begged 'what do you think?' Predictably, the quarian nodded in accord.

Admiral Hackett took the stage and finally reached the podium - his semblance manifesting itself into the prodigious hologram behind him. He gripped the metallic podium; one hand on each corner, and opened his mouth to begin. Before any utterance escaped his lips however, he took quick note of the limping human being helped into a seat, by a quarian, near the front of the crowd. As John settled in and looked up, the two navy men locked eyes and greeted each other in silence. Hackett presented Shepard a forlorn smile, and a subtle, nearly indiscernible nod before he began.

"Ahem, thank you…" He said, softly clearing his naturally gruff throat as the light applause came to an end. "You know, everything's happened so fast in the past week that I think all our heads our still spinning." The Admiral's voice resonated from the loudspeakers, carrying across the Council Chambers with a sort of quiet dignity. "Not a soul in the galaxy was untouched by the whirlwind of emotion that swept across the stars. The initial denial and the disbelief when we heard the Reapers were in fact real, and that they were coming. The terror we felt as the Citadel was evacuated with our friends and family. The chill that overtook us, and the panic that settled in the pit of our stomachs as we watched the Earth burn. And then the dread and uncertainty when we quickly realized that Earth would only be the beginning. When it was all over we felt jubilation. Triumph knowing we'd beaten them. But the refreshment of relief was quickly accompanied by the sear of loss. The sorrow and the heartbreak over those who fell tragically in battle, as well as for those who were lost to the reaper's unforgiving flames."

"I don't think there's anyone in the system that didn't lose somebody. Certainly not anyone in this room. Looking around, I can still see the tears running. " He declared, as his gaze panned scrupulously across the crowd. Interestingly enough, one thing he noticed was that majority of the crowd was donned in dark garb. He realized that wearing black during a time of bereavement was not exclusively a human custom. He observed many in the crowd fighting back the tears in their eyes, and the knots in their throats. Those that failed at keeping their lamentations at bay lightly dabbed the rivulets from their cheeks. One couple in particular, likely kin to the departed Councilor Valern, huddled together in a tender embrace, as they quivered with twin streams running from their eyes.

"You know, it shames me to admit it-" Admiral Hackett began again, with a palpable sympathy in his voice. "-but only now did I learn that Salarians could cry… I join you both in your sorrow." He said, addressing the salarian couple directly. They acknowledged with a grateful nod.

"In the midst of all the emotion-" The Admiral continued. "-I think about Anderson. I think he was different. I wondered if he was human sometime. No, that-" He paused and shook his head as he recanted. "-that didn't come out right. I know he was human. But I wondered how a human - any human, or any person for that matter - could be as stone-willed as he was. I'm sure he felt the same emotions as any of us. I know things made him laugh. I'm sure things made him cry. But the only outward emotion I ever saw from him was tenacity. If we can even call that an emotion - I suppose it's more of a quality than anything else. I served two tours with David Anderson-" The Admiral exhaled a bit of a sigh, as his address continued, though taking a bit more of a relaxed tone of voice. "-and I'd like to impart a story, if I may."

"During our mobile infantry days, while serving under the late General Delano Whiteside, our squad was given a recon mission to gather intel on the defenses of an enemy stronghold. But there was no way we'd ever get close enough to get a lay of the land without being spotted or giving away our position. I remember the words straight out of my mouth were 'it can't be done.'" He affirmed from memory, as he glowered and shook his head. It wasn't long before that grimace with replaced with a smirk, however. "But without the thought of concede ever even crossing his mind, Anderson figured out a way to get us through to a blind spot… by going the long away around - straight through a nest of angry, hungry, klixen." The last word came out with a chuckle, as the crowd exhaled a low, collective gasp. "Now I suppose anyone in that garrison figured either no one would be crazy enough to try and blaze a path through a passage infested with fire-breathing monsters, or if they were crazy enough, they'd never make it through. Well Anderson got us through, alright." He proudly regaled, with a gleam of admiration shining in his eyes.

"After that, it became a bit of a running joke among the troops to never say it can't be done around 'Able-Dave Anderson.' He'll tell you it ain't been done yet, before turning around and doing it himself. Heh…" The Admiral chuckled through his teeth, as his forlorn countenance returned. "Able-Dave…" He solemnly muttered. "I wonder how long it'd been since he'd heard that name. I'd bet well over a decade." He stood silent for a moment, perhaps recalling other tales of adventure and conflict in days long since foregone.

"The point that I'm trying to make-" He eventually continued, trying to mask a subtle shakiness in his voice with an imposing timbre. "-is that there was no quit in David Anderson. He was never a watcher, or a schemer, or a debater… He was a fighter, a doer. A leader that led by example. If something went wrong or needed to get done, he didn't waste time figuring out who to blame, or trying to figure out what caused the problem - he took the steps necessary to fix it. And he fought… He fought for his country, for his planet, for his species, and for his fellow man. And in the end he died fighting. He gave his life so that we might have a chance to live ours just a little longer." Hackett articulated, as his gaze swept across the sullen crowd.

"We're here today to honor these Councilors - these beings of exceptional cunning, gallantry, diligence, and fortitude. To remember their actions in life, and honor their deeds in death. Although-" He couldn't help from chuckling a bit, as he started his next sentence. "-knowing Anderson as well as I did, were he here today, I imagine he'd be saying something along the lines of 'there's work to be done.'.

"He never wanted laurels or recognition. I know he wouldn't care for a big ceremony - he'd say it was a waste of time. But he's not here to stop us, now is he?" He smirked as he looked out at the crowd, inciting a small but respectful collective chuckle. "No, today we give him a proper send off… He gave his life fighting for us - It's the least we can do." He paused, pensive for a moment.

"You know, there's a very old line I once read, in a very old book." He continued. "'Greater love no man hath than that he lay down his life for his friends...' I guess after everything, THAT'S the emotion that best sums David Anderson up… Love… Love for what he did, and love for every living thing. We owe a debt of gratitude, that we can never repay, to this man, to these councilors, and to every man and woman who laid down his or her life to fight back the Reapers." Admiral Stephen Hackett swallowed at something in his throat, as his eulogy reached a halt.

His focus began to drift around the room. He turned his attention up as if looking to some higher power, before bring his gaze back down and glancing around the podium, towards the floor, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the caskets lined up beneath the stage.

"Farewell, Able-Dave." He finally continued with a pronounced quiver in his voice. "You will never be forgotten my brother." His words trailed into a whisper. "Wherever you've gone - I hope you'll put in a good word for us. Thank you…" He concluded, as a solemn round of applause began to emanate from the mournful audience.

As the ovation continued, the Admiral didn't immediately withdraw himself from the podium. He instead looked down, sifting through the crowd, with his eyes, to spot Shepard once again, who was lending his own hands to the applause. Without actually asking the weary, war-marred Commander up, he inquisitively pointed a hand down towards the podium and the microphone before him, and gave a light shrug of his shoulders - a set of motions that very perfectly conveyed the question. 'Would you like to come up and say a few words?'

---

Gordon's fork clinked and clanked against his ceramic plate, as he churned around a meal of steamed chicken and vegetables. He'd managed to slice into every single thing on the dish - the chicken, the broccoli, the peas and carrots - but given the full plate, it didn't seem as though he'd actually eaten any of it.

"Something bothering you, Gordon?" Miranda asked, with a smirk, as she sat cross-legged still at his bedside.

"No. What makes you say that?"

"Well, you just seem awfully quiet." She confessed, as she pointed her omni-tool up to the holoscreen in the upper corner of the room, to shut off the already muted HV set, which had been showing the direct-to-vid release of the All-Elcor Production of Romeo & Juliet. "I think that one head of broccoli you're batting around has done about 3 laps around your plate."

"Eh, I can't stand hospital food." He griped, finally discarding the fork onto the center of the plate, and pushing the rolling table away. "Even 200 years into the future, it all still tastes like cardboard. And hey-" He beckoned, as he turned to her with a mild smirk. "-quiet is just how I am. You did say, when we first met, that you were partial to the strong, silent types, no?"

"Heh." Miranda tittered, and maybe even blushed a little. "True… But I didn't say you were being silent." She explained, with a shake of her head. "I said you were quiet. There's a difference."

"...A difference?"

"You seem…" The brunette paused, as she looked up, searching for the right word. "Distracted. Like there's something troubling you."

"Mmm…" A sullen moan creaked in Gordon's throat, accompanied by an escaping sigh. "No, I was just thinking."

"Can I ask, what about?" Miranda whispered, leaning a little closer.

Gordon's eyelids flickered, as he bit down on his lips. "Well-" He began, staring blankly onto the sheets draped over his chest and lap. "-To be honest, I was thinking about my family." He finally disclosed. "My mom and dad. My brother, my sister-in-law. My nephew…" He said, his voice trailing to a whisper, as he reflected.

Taking a breath, he glanced back up at Miranda before he continued. "Since waking up on the Normandy it's been sort of non-stop, you know?" He asked with a dismal shrug. Miranda nodded as she bowed her head, trying to empathize.

"All the things we went through to stop the Reapers, and then the whole hullabaloo of the cruise. I haven't really had a chance to stop and think about it-" He said, his voice cracking a bit, as leaned back against his propped up pillow. "I guess it hadn't really sunk in that they were gone."

Gordon's jawline fluttered, his chin quivered and his nostrils flared in and out. Before long, his eyelids fluttered rapidly. This was the sight of a man toiling in earnest to suppress tears.

"I was never close with my parents-" The longing physicist continued, shaking his head, as he stared out towards the ceiling. "-but I usually saw them around the holidays at least… And now it just hit me that I'm never going to see them again." His chest trembled with a hefty sigh, as he sank further down into his bed.

With genuine empathy in her her heart for the tragic plight he's had to endure, Miranda reached out, caressed his arm, and gripped his hand - wishing there was something she could do or say to give him comfort.

Just then, his return grip tightened. "You know a lot about my past, Miranda" Gordon shot back up to a seated position - his eyes lit up, pleading at her. "What happened to my parents? Did they survive? Did they suffer?"

Miranda's expression faded into contrition, as she seemed to turn away, if only slightly. "I'm sorry Gordon." She gingerly began. "But I don't think I've ever heard any mention of your parents in the historical codices. It's likely they were a casualty of the Seven Hours War, or… were enslaved after the Combine's initial invasion."

The thought made Gordon wince as though a needle had just been jabbed into his side.

"I know that's not what you wanted to hear." The brunette by his side sympathised. "But I can tell you that your brother John was nearly as extraordinary as you are." She said, sounding more upbeat in an effort to lift his spirits. "He's remembered as almost a big a hero of the Earth Rebellion as you. His famous assault on a Combine Weapons Factory in Kazan, known back then as City 23, helped turn the tide of the war." She declared, with a deep sense of reverence in her words. "The attack crippled several Combine supply routes and rearming efforts. He saved a lot of lives. And as far as your nephew Henry - his son - he was key in the formation of the NEU. One of the original members of the Council of Five… Along with Alyx Vance."

Freeman sighed a bit. Though he still wore a rueful mask, a modest smile shone through - his eyes beaming with pride for his heroic family. "Shepard mentioned some of that to me." He divulged with a nod. "It's just hard to think that I'll never see any of them again. My family. My friends and my colleagues." His voice seemed to trail off into a low whisper, as he struggled desperately to swallow back the knot in his throat. "Alyx…"

Gordon's head hung down over his chest. The warm glow of daylight spilled in from his window pane. Outside, the massive hive that is the Citadel buzzed with ceaseless trails of skycars, oblivious to his plight. And within, the instruments by his bed continued doing their job - they hummed and whirred as medical accoutrements often do. But even so, here now, despite the noise within and the commotion without, a mournful stillness and the shadow of dejection had crept into the room.

Miranda shared in his moment of silence – paying her due respects to the fallen in her own way. But there was something she had to know.

"Can… can I ask you something?" She humbly beseeched.

Gordon looked back up. "Of course, Miranda." He said, with softened eyes.

"...Did you love her?"

The physicist raised an eyebrow as a perplexed look somewhat replaced the despondent one. "Who?" He asked. "My mother?"

"No." The brunette was quick to respond with a firm shake of her head. "Alyx Vance."

"Alyx..." Gordon uttered in a way that made it seem as though the mere mention of her name was painful. "Why do you ask me that?" He implored.

"Accounts differ throughout history regarding the nature of your relationship." Miranda explained, with her head turned away. "A popular theory is that you and her were romantically involved, but there isn't enough evidence to support that claim. Other accounts say that you two were merely soldiers in the fight against the combine and nothing more. But I know there was something there Gordon." She affirmed, when she finally found the brazenness to face him. "Something more. I just want to know how much more."

"...Why?" The displaced physicist asked, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, with a brow furrowed in discontent. "That's not something I really wanna talk about right now, Miranda. Besides, she's been dead for how many years? Whatever may or may not have existed doesn't matter anymore. It's dead and buried - just like everyone else I knew." He said - his lamentation mixing with a timbre of anger in his voice as he himself turned away from her to peer through the window.

An uneasy silence hung in the room - but again it was the former Cerberus Operative who would once more disrupt it.

"You called me Alyx back on the ship." She eventually declared.

"What?" He questioned as he turned back around.

"Back on the Illustria... You called me Alyx."

"No I didn't." Gordon argued, as a confused look grew on his face. "When?"

"Yes you did." Miranda quickly answered back, with an adamant nod and something of a forceful chuckle. "Back in the dining hall, after our fight with the two Blood Pack mercenaries. You came running out of the kitchen, and I heard you. I was still conscious enough to hear you call me by her name."

"No, I-I-"Gordon stuttered and stammered as he furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I called you Miranda. I know I did. Why would I call you anything else?!"

"Gordon." She scoffed. "You called me Alyx."

"No, I… W… uhm…" As he muttered nonsensically, he tried hard to think back to that moment in questions. "Well, if I did Miranda, it's just because I thought I'd lost you-" He finally confessed with a kindness in his voice. "-the same way I once thought I'd lost her. But why does it matter?" He beckoned with an uneasy shrug. "You almost sound like you're jealous of a-" He could barely bring himself to say it. "-of a dead woman."

"I'm not jealous." Miranda confidentally assured. "I just... want to know. That's all."

"...Why?!"

"I suppose i just want to know how I can measure up, compared to the 'Mother of New Earth.'"

"Miranda…" Gordon sighed. "You shouldn't-"

"It's just sheer, morbid curiosity Gordon." The adamant brunette interjected, cutting him off. "I just want to know."

Gordon exhaled a hefty grunt, as he shook his head. "Alright." He conceded, scooting forward and propping himself up to a seated position on his bead. "If it means that much to you, I'll tell you about Alyx, Miranda." He said with a bit of a smirk. "But uh… We're gonna do this a certain way. 'Quid pro quo', as Hannibal Lectre once put it. I think it'll be a good opportunity to learn a bit more about each other. I tell you things, you tell me things. For every question you ask me, I ask you one in return. Deal?" He presented with inquiring eyes.

"Hmm…" Miranda pondered on it for a moment, but it didn't take long for her to accept his terms. "Okay, deal. And I've already got my first question. Who is Hannibal Lecter…?"

After what seemed like an interminable walk up such a short flight of stairs, with no shortage of trouble, John Shepard had at long last taken the stage. He reached the podium and quickly took firm hold of it with both hands, the same way an elderly man might take hold of a mobility walker. All the while, he had been lauded with a soft, respectful ovation - the same welcoming reception that had been bequeathed to those before him.

"Thank you." The Commander bestowed with a nod. "I know there are other speakers and I'm not scheduled to be here, so I'll try and keep this brief. On my way here today, I bumped into an old friend of mine. As I was sitting there-" He continued, nonchalantly pointing out the now empty seat next to Tali. "-I was thinking a little bit about what he said to me. He said David Anderson was a proud warrior, and that he went the way any warrior would've wanted to go - fighting tooth and claw to the very end. But the truth is I don't believe that." Shepard said, shaking his head as his glance panned around the room. "I don't mean that he wasn't a proud warrior - few words can better describe David Anderson. What I mean is, people always seem to say that soldiers and warriors want to go out fighting - want to die in the heat of battle. Well, I've been in a lot of battles, and I've never wanted to die in any of them." He put forth adamantly. "I don't think ANY soldier wants to die in battle. I doubt Anderson was any different."

"Me, I grew up without a family, on some of Earth's seediest streets." He continued, occasionally shifting his weight around from one leg to another, to subside discomfort. "And he was the closest thing I ever knew to a father - the one who taught me the meaning of honor, loyalty, discipline, and pride in serving one's planet. He's the man that I strived my whole adult life to make proud. All I ever wanted to be was like him. And deep down I-" He paused for a moment, as his voice involuntarily cracked a bit. "I couldn't help but hope he came to see me as something of a son. Partly because I think that's what he would've been meant for. Had the Reapers not taken him from us, the way they took so many, I think he would've had a family of his own one day."

"The man he may have shown us was the proud, dutiful soldier. But the man I came to see was the proud, dutiful father. And if you ask me how I think he would've wanted to go - how any soldier, any navy man, any marine or combat pilot would want to go; I'd say I think they'd want to go the same way I want to go. Peacefully… After a long and happy life, surrounded by people that love them."

"But David Anderson died alone-" Shepard winced with regret. "-fighting off a horrible monstrosity. The Reapers took him from us, the same way they took all our Councilors. It wasn't the way he would've wanted to go, but he died fighting. He lived a hero's life, and died a hero's death. I'll miss David Anderson." He declared, with certainty, as his jaw rattled for just a moment. "Like you, I never got the chance to say goodbye. But I can still hold on to the lessons he taught me. One of those lessons was to cherish every moment, and cherish those you love. We never know which day will be our last. Yesterday almost was. And tomorrow may very well be."

Commander John Shepard took in a deep breath, as he stood upright and straightened out his uniform. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, he gave a sharp, ninety-degree turn and marched around the podium, towards the front of the stage, with the air of a soldier on a foot drill. Stopping at the very edge overlooking the caskets below, he clicked together the soles of his shoes, and stood at attention, delivering a stoic, dignified salute. "Rest in Peace my Captain." He said, holding his composure despite the throbbing in his shoulder and leg. "At east, sir…"

"I can't believe that you've never heard of Silence of the Lambs!" Gordon exclaimed, exaggerating his state of shock, if only just a little. "Such a great movie! Came out just a few years ag-" He quickly stopped himself when he realized what he was saying. "-uh… a few years before everything that happened at Black Mesa… That really makes me wonder how many movies and books and stuff survived the Combine apocalypse." He muttered to himself.

"But anyway, to answer your real question." He proceeded, under the sound of a long-winded sigh. "Me and Alyx… No." He put forth with a shake of his head. "We were never anything more than friends. That isn't to say I didn't care about her… Deeply." He admitted, with a laden-heart - something Miranda was easily able to discern through his expressive green eyes.

"I did care about her. Alot. I think you could even say that I…" Gordon paused for a moment, hesitant to admit the truth. "That I loved her. Or, fell in love with her. Or… Or something…" He muttered, looking back at Miranda, as he struggled to put into words how he truly felt. "But I never told her." He shrugged and shook his head. "I never said a word… We fought the Combine together. That was the extent of our relationship."

As she listened to him divulge the untold truth about his past, Miranda kept silent. She studied his eyes, and hearkened his tone. And one thing she could conclude, without a shadow of a doubt, was that everything being said, was true.

"I helped her save her father. She helped me evacuate people from the city before the Citadel blew." As Gordon elaborated, his eyes sank and grew dim as he thought about what he was about to disclose next. "And when a Combine hunter wounded her-" He cringed, in silence. "The vortigaunts saved her life… I helped." The last part of his sentence came out in a rapid blurt. It was as though he was looking to give very little, if any, merit to the part he played for her salvation, on that fateful day.

As Gordon sat there reminiscing, Miranda realized he had finished.

"Do you miss her?"

"Of course…" He was quick to admit. "But what can you do?"

"Would you have preferred never having woken up here?"

Gordon's chest bounced with a laugh, as a mild grin grew on his face. "Now hold on, Miranda." He said, snickering a bit. "You're breaking the rules. Quid pro quo, remember? It's my turn to ask you something."

"Hmph…" She scoffed under her breath, but conceded with a crooked smile. "Alright… Shoot."

"This is something I've been meaning to ask you, actually." He began in a guarded, almost squeamish tone of voice, like that of someone who knows they're about to say something offensive, but don't actually want to offend. "Earlier, while we were still back at the police station, and that uh… Admiral came out to meet us. He said they had an extensive file on you."

Miranda's eyes narrowed, as her head pulled back a bit.

"He said you were wanted for espionage, grand larceny…? Illegal experimentation? The creating of illegal A.I.s?! What was all that about?"

"Gordon…" She began modestly enough, as bowed her head and turned away from him. When she did, her long, silky black hair tumbled down over her face, obscuring the expression of shame that had overtaken it. "Back on the Normandy, you told me you knew about Cerberus. About my past. That you knew about the things we'd done, and that you trusted me." She said, sounding betrayed.

"I do!" He abruptly answered back.

"Then why are you bringing this up now, as if you didn't know?!" She demanded, with a scowl in her eyes, as she finally brought them back up to meet his.

"W… Well… well, because-" He stuttered in response, feeling his foot firmly jammed in his mouth. "-I knew the things they'd done, and that you worked for them. But I didn't think you were directly involved in any of that!" He exclaimed with a sense of disillusion. "I figured you just worked for them to stop the Reapers, the same way Shepard did… I mean… Torture conditioning? Kids in biotic concentration camps…? Tell me you weren't involved in that Miranda." He supplicated, hoping desperately to hear a very specific answer.

"I wasn't involved" Miranda sighed, and gave his answer. "Not directly. But I knew what was being done." She elaborated, as she sank back down in her chair with a look of bitterness and defeat on her face. "I told myself to look the other way. But I'm far from innocent in the matter. I was the Illusive Man's right-hand, after all. I carried out orders, and delegated orders to others."

"Think how you'd feel Gordon-" She continued, as she turned back to him, asking empathy with her eyes. "-growing up a genetic freak. Knowing that you were bred to be perfection itself - but in the eyes of your father, you were anything but."

Gordon clenched his lips as he listened to the penitent brunette by his bedside. She may not have known it yet, but he could identify with her problem more than she could imagine.

"I was never good enough, or smart enough, or fast enough." She continued, disclosing a litany of shortcomings. "Everything I ever did was just another opportunity to disappoint the only man I ever sought to please. And then, finding someone like the Illusive Man - someone who touted the inherent superiority of human-kind, and whose ideals were radical to say the least. But also who recognized my talents and abilities, and put them to good use. It was… euphoric." She uttered in a low tone of voice, perhaps lost in a moment of the authority she once commanded.

"I like to say that I've always had a wisdom beyond my years-" She continued, after snapping back to reality. "-but the truth is I was a young and foolish girl, who felt like she'd finally found where she belonged. So I turned my heart to ice, and did whatever the Illusive Man asked of me, no matter how abhorrent it was."

"I never carried out any acts of torture or experimentation myself. But I knew what was going on, and that makes me just as guilty." She readily admitted.

"As far as the espionage goes? Hmph." She chuckled a bit. "An organization as well informed as Cerberus didn't come across all its intel simply by asking for it. Even the secrets of the Alliance were fair game."

Gordon sat propped up in his hospital bed, with his mouth unwittingly cracked open - listening, with great intent, as she revealed some of the dark recesses of her past.

"Let's see, you mentioned grand larceny?" Miranda questioned, seemingly willing to go through his checklist of mentioned offenses, one by one. "Well Cerberus is one of the wealthiest organizations in the galaxy. But despite all of the Illusive Man's assets and front companies, most of those funds weren't exactly acquired legally."

"And as for the illegal experimentation goes; Cerberus was looking for any and every edge we could find to stop the Reapers. You already know about the Subject Zero testing conducted to augment biotic capabilities. But we also did some research with the recovered spores of an ancient, sentient plant with supposed mind-domineering abilities. Since the plant, or the Thorian, as it was called had been destroyed, by Shepard actually, Cerberus was never able to recover a pure-enough sample... Our research was inconclusive."

"Wow…!" The word escaped Gordon's lips with a gasp. His eyes wore gleam of both shock and intrigue, and his mouth yet hung open with amazement. "What about the creation of illegal A.I.s?"

"EDI," She replied with a crooked, cockeyed smirk. "Remember her?"

"Oh… err-right." He uncomfortably acknowledged.

"I'm not proud of the time I spent with Cerberus." She began again in a humbled tone of voice. "One of the things that shames me the most, is when we recovered and revived Shepard, I personally suggested to the Illusive Man that he should be outfitted with some sort of behavioral modification implant, to assure we would maintain control over him at all times. The Illusive Man rejected the idea - he didn't want Shepard tampered with. He didn't want anything that could inhibit or interfere with his natural instincts or behavior in anyway."

"Shepard's become one of my closest friends, and one of the of the people I trust more than anyone else in the galaxy, besides you." She confessed, as she turned and looked to Gordon, as though she was looking for forgiveness. "I've never told him what I almost did, and it haunts me."

"So judge me if you like, Gordon." She acceded, seeming so vulnerable at that moment; ready to accept whatever harsh discourse he may have for her. "But the truth is I regret ever being a part of that organization, with every fiber of my being. And quite frankly I'd like to put my time with them behind me."

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about wanting to put the past behind you." Freeman said, partially under his breath, with a few shakes of his head. "I don't judge you Miranda. And I do trust you. I trust you completely." He proclaimed, without equivocation. "But you're not with them anymore. You're with this team now. With me. I'm sorry ever brought it up."

Miranda's lips curled with an earnest smile. Despite the shame she felt for the things she'd done, she also felt a sense of relief now. A catharsis. Like a great burden alleviated from her chest. It felt good.

"Forget it." She happily instructed. "To be honest, I think both me and Jacob have worried a bit about what they might do. The Illusive Man doesn't exactly take kindly to people abandoning his employ. Especially not with the things I know about Cerberus."

A burgeoning concern coaxed Gordon to shift further up in his bed. "You think they'd come after you?" He asked, clearly alarmed.

"Not if they know what's good for them." Miranda joked, with an arrogant, nonchalant air. "Especially not while I'm part of this team. But that technically counted as a question. And it's already my turn."

"Heh, alright." Gordon uneasily complied. "What do you wanna know?"

" The same thing I asked earlier." Her tone grew solemn and austere. "Would you have preferred never having woken up here?"

Gordon grit his teeth as the question came. In his mind, it unleashed a rapid fire deluge of memories; both good and bad, horrific and pleasant, present and past. He brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck as he fidgeted about in place, not sure where to begin.

"I don't know how to answer that Miranda-" His voice creaked in his throat. "-honestly, I don't… I can tell you that I'm glad to be here with you, now… I care about you - that much should be obvious." He said, as he looked to her with a glint of tenderness in his eyes. "But as far as waking up here… Do you remember when you asked me what I was afraid of back on the Normandy? We were flying out to Xen just before the Reapers attacked, and you said you'd seen the way I looked at you, but you could tell I was afraid to get close to you. Remember that?"

Miranda nodded. "I remember."

"The reason I was afraid is because within the past few weeks; to me, this - all of this - has happened within WEEKS!" He pointedly exclaimed, wanting to make his point-of-view very, very clear. "To the rest of the world, to the whole galaxy it's been centuries. To me it's been weeks! I've been torn out of my life, and plunged into another, again and again." He asserted, sounding angry and aggrieved as he repeatedly pounded his right fist into his left hand. Just then, he stopped and took a breath - the energy sapped from his body.

For all intents and purposes, Miranda knew, in detail, everything that this man had been through. But only now, as she watched the grieving on his face, hearing the mournfulness in his voice, did she truly begin to understand.

"Hmph!" Gordon scoffed and shook his head, before continuing. "I still remember the things that were going on. It was practically just yesterday to me."

"I remember reading about this new thing in the papers, that was coming out soon. It was supposedly going to replace the VCR - something I highly doubted." He said with a heavy tinge of skepticism in his voice. "A TVD player, or something like that. Nowadays we've got holoscreens, optical drives, omni-tools. Hell, I remember how excited I was to hear there was a Star Wars prequel coming out! Star Wars!" He exclaimed, in a tone of mixed excitement and grief. "I grew up on Star Wars! Now I'm freakin' livin' it. And what's the big movie these days? Some Hanar James Bond named Blasto." He said, as waved a hand dismissively over his head. "I'll bet you've never even heard of Star Wars OR James Bond, have you?" He asked, looking to Miranda.

The only response she could supply was a shake of her head.

"See?" He implored with a shrug. "One minute, I'm living the life a science geek, excited about trivial things like that. Going to work, worried about paying bills and keeping my job… And the next, my entire life gets turned upside down, and then right-side up, and then inside out!"

"What I was afraid of, what I'm STILL afraid of is that something's going to come along and take this away from me again." He admitted with a very real sensation of fear brooding in his voice. "That I'm going to wake up again in another five-hundred years, and there'll be another war, or another race of monsters trying to kill everything."

"Sometimes I wish I could just go back to my boring old life of take-out food, watching TV, and reading research papers." He sighed. "Asking me if I would have preferred never having had woken up here, would be like asking someone whether or not they'd run into a fire to rescue a total stranger. A person can't truthfully answer a questions like that until they're faced with that decision."

As Gordon bore his soul, she understood exactly what he meant - what he was trying to say. How can you ask someone to endure the hardships of this man's life, even if you promise them a happy ending, when most would be contented with a meager and mediocre existence. But even so, the one thought that was prominent in her mind was - he's always put himself through the flames to save total strangers. That's the man he was.

"The closest thing I can give you to answer is this." Gordon's continuing words snapped Miranda back into the moment. "Even though I've lost everything I loved twice, it doesn't mean I'd want to lose the ability to love - the ability to feel happiness. Which is what I feel now." He looked back up at the brunette, affixing his eyes to hers. "I'm happy to be here with you, Miranda." He professed in earnest. "I know it's not an answer, but I hope it's enough."

Still captivated by his gaze, Miranda leaned and took a firm hold of his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "It's enough." She said, beaming back a satisfied smile, as she playfully patted down his hand against the mattress.

Gordon returned the grin. "...Does that mean it's my turn again?"

"Hmmph - sure." She acknowledged with a titter.

"Alright, let's see…" He muttered pensively, as he turned his pupils towards the ceiling, and stroked his chin-whiskers with his free hand. "Well, I have been meaning to ask one thing. Going back to the subject of the nature of old relationships… What's this I've heard about you and Jacob before I came along, huh?"

---

Like a deer caught in the headlights, the question flung Miranda into a glassy-eyed stupor. "Uhm… How'd you hear about that?"

"Ladies and Gentlemen-" The voice a female announcer echoed across the tower floor, as a venerable turian donned in an eminent dress uniform made his way across the stage. "-at this time please welcome General Baeridius Sha'tre, Commander of the Turian Hierarchy's 26th Armiger Legion."

A soft, respectful applause reverberated through the cavernous room, like the pitter of rainfall, as the distinguished turian reached the podium.

"Ahem, thank you…" The turian officer expressed, with a quick clearing of his throat. "Thank you and good evening ladies and gentlemen. Firstly, I'd like to extend my gratitude to the other speakers who have spoken so eloquently on behalf of the other Councilors." He candidly expressed, as he extended his hand, in a sweeping motion across the room, namely pointing out the amalgam of delegates and officers stately dressed, and seated at the front row.

One speaker in particular, however, was elsewhere - both in body and in mind. Having come in late, and not being an official speaker at these proceedings, John Shepard had retaken his place in a row further back, towards the edge of the crowd. He sat, leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin on the balls of his knuckles, made up of his two hands clasped together.

"I pray the spirits grant my own words such resonance." The dignified general continued on. "Now, we've gathered here this night to bid a fond and final farewell to our beloved leaders. Our Councilors - Those who were trusted with the sacred duty of guiding us through the squalors and turmoils of galactic advancement and coexistence."

"Now I'm certain that everyone in this room, certainly anyone who ever kept up with the news vids, knows that Councilor Sparatus was no stranger to turmoil."

The name Sparatus caused Shepard to look up. There was one phrase etched in his memory, that would forever be synonymous with that name; "Ah yes, 'Reapers.' The immortal race of sentient starships allegedly waiting in dark space. Eh, we have dismissed that claim."

"He stirred up his share of controversy-" Baeridius continued. "-and his influence was polarizing to say the least. But there was no denying his motives and no questioning his loyalties. He was about building a better galaxy for future turians and non-turians alike."

Shepard couldn't agree more with the whole 'stirring up his share of controversy' thing. Undeniably there were times when the most satisfying thought to cross his mind was that of the Councilor's brash face at the end of his fist. But except for maybe a black eye, or a chipped tooth, Shepard harbored no true ill-will towards him. Certainly not a fate such as this. He wished him a peaceful rest…

But as Baeridius' speech proceeded, John fell into a bit of a daydream. Even though his eyes remained trained on the distinguished Turian General, expressing lasting words of departure for the late Turian Councilor, his focus was elsewhere. It wasn't long before the General's words drifted into incognizance, as the human Commander's mind wandered into pleasant and concurrently painful memories of the past. This was out of no disrespect to the Turian Councilor himself, despite the two's checkered histories, Shepard just wasn't there anymore…

"Son, what do you think it is that's going to make you a good soldier?"

"Pfft… Because I'm the toughest guy I know. I was winning street fights against guys twice my size when I was only twelve-years old."

"And you think that's what's going to make you a good soldier? Because you're tough?"

"What else is there?"

"If all you wanted to do was fight Shepard, you could've stayed in the gutter of whatever street it was you crawled out of. Why are you really here? Why did you join my navy?"

"Well, because the galaxy's been getting a lot bigger lately. Last time it was those scum sucking turians that had to be put into check - I wanna be ready for whoever's next. I joined because I want to protect the Earth."

"Any fool can carry a gun and kill. Being a part of my Navy isn't about fighting wars, it's about maintaining peace. When you draw your weapon it isn't about whose life can take - it's about whose life you can spare. A boy may know when to raise his weapon, but only a man knows when it's time to sheathe it."

The unexpected rumble of a low applause brought Shepard back to the moment. He had obviously missed something.

"And it was because of that!" An impassioned General Baeridius declared, as the ovation subsided. "Because of Councilor Sparatus' tedious, tireless efforts, that a long lasting, mutual peace between the volus and the turians was assured."

It was a momentarily lapse back into the present however, as it wasn't long before the Commander was drowning in his thoughts once more.

"Shepard! What happened out there!? That should've been an easy victory for your squad."

"It was my team's fault, sir! They didn't follow my orders!"

"You STOPPED giving orders midway through the exercise."

"Well, they weren't listening to me. And after we got flanked, I… I didn't know what to do."

"A commanding officer ALWAYS knows what to do, Shepard. Even if he doesn't. Remember that. And your rank isn't what gives you power. As squad leader, it's up to you to command the respect and obedience of your troops. An army of sheep led by a lion, is more dangerous than an army of lions, led by a sheep."

Intermittently, Shepard drifted back into the moment.

"And even though his ears frequently rang with the words of controversy he stirred up-" The turian General continued his oration. "-his mouth always resonated with the voice of the people."

And again, he drifted right back out.

"Shepard! I've recommended you for the N7 training program. You leave for Vila Militar at 0500 tomorrow morning."

"The N7 Program? Sir - do you think I'm ready?"

"I know you are son. You've grown by leaps and bounds since you first got here. You're smart, your disciplined, and you're a fine leader. You're a rare soldier, Shepard. You're destined to do amazing things - I know you'll make me proud."

"I hope I did, sir…" John's voice quivered, as he muttered to himself.

"So regardless of whether or not we approved of his methods or his policies-" The Commanding turian Officer proclaimed, in the midst of wrapping up his eulogy. "-there is no denying the propitious impact his actions had on the galaxy, and the virtuous legacy he now leaves behind. Thank you…"

The room rattled with applause, as the decorated General sidestepped the podium, approached the edge of the stage, stood poised at attention and thumped a right fist, to his left chest, granting the departed a formal turian army salute.

With his acclamation for the fallen at it's end, General Baeridius turned and made his way off the stage. In doing so, his path crossed with an older-looking asari, enrobed in an elegant silver dress. Without someone to announce her, she had managed to leave most of the room at a loss, when she stepped up to the podium.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. My name is Ilaika Thanir." She began, modestly enough. "I was the voice of the announcer you head throughout tonight's proceedings. And I've also been the Galactic Council's Secretary of Relations for past two-hundred and seventeen years. So I can say, with certainty, that I knew the Councilor's well - especially Councilor Tevos. However, I can also say, with certainty, that I could never hope to speak more eloquently on behalf of our beloved departed than our esteemed speakers did here tonight." She said, as she too acknowledged the exalted figures in the front row. "And so for that we are immensely grateful."

"I'd to thank each and every one of you for joining us here tonight, in order to bid the fondest of farewells to our noble leaders. The wake will continue until 10 pm this evening, and the funeral procession will commence tomorrow morning at 8am." The cordial asari secretary informed, as people began to stir in their seats - many standing up to stretch, others beginning the shuffle towards the exit. "It will take us from here to the Citadel's Commemoratory Polyandrion, on the opposite side of the Presidium ring. There we will commute our venerated Councilors to be enshrined alongside the honored Councilors of the past."

"But before we conclude tonight's ceremony, we have one final gift, in memoriam, to bestow upon our lost leaders." This statement brought a fairly abrupt halt to bustle in the seats, as most of those in attendance stopped and re-devoted their attention, for the sake of curiosity. "The Citadel Conservation Administration has commissioned the construction of a statue to honor these Councilors who gave their lives in the struggle against the Reapers."

Ilaika spun on her feet, turning to look at her own towering holographic projection being cast behind her. Within a few seconds, her visage dissipated into a cloud of static, and out of that static, a new image appeared. It was the holographic model of the statue soon to be. The four Councilors; Tevos, Valern, Sparatus, and Anderson. They were arranged in a circle, standing proud, looking to the sky with one hand outstretched straight up to the heavens. And at the end of their extended hands, resting upon the very tips of each of their fingers, was one of the five arms of the fully opened, star-figured Citadel.

The Commander looked up in awe at the magnificent design. There he was, David Anderson - his Captain, his mentor, his friend and father-figure - to be forever immortalized among galactic society. The first Human Councilor - Progenitor of the Savior of the Citadel.

"The statue, known simply as 'Wards', was designed by an aspiring Hanar artist known as Jekan." Secretary Thanir spoke up once more, as she turned back towards the podium. "Construction will begin next week, and the it will grace the entrance of our grand Citadel Tower, conferring shelter and protection to any who may enter, regardless of race, religion or species."

Just then, the rumble of applause began to fill the room once more. It was more thunderous than before, but still low enough to be considered respectful. A fitting tribute.

"At this time, I invite anyone who would like to come up and pay their final respects to our Councilors to please feel welcome to do so." She announced, in closing. "On behalf of the Interim Council, I'd like to thank all of you for coming. And on behalf of everyone in here, and everyone out there - to our passed Councilors I would just like to say; thank you. We love you. And we'll miss you all… Goodnight."

---

"So in all honesty, it was just a relationship of convenience." Miranda admitted nonchalantly, as she sat reclined in her seat, with her legs crossed. "Being a part of an organization like Cerberus doesn't exactly leave much room for a social life. I mean it isn't as though I could go clubbing, or meet anyone on the extranet, or anything like that." She prattled away, in an attempt to absolve herself. "And it was short-lived anyway - we just weren't a good fit. But that's pretty much all there is too it, really." She said with a shrug. She waited for a response, but none came. "Gordon?" She asked, as she glanced back up. When she did she quickly realized that she had been chattering away to herself. Meanwhile, Gordon had drifted off to sleep long ago, probably as a result of his medication starting to kick in.

"Hmph." She tittered and shook her head endearingly, as she watched him snore.

"Uh, excuse me, ma'am." An unexpected male voice caught her attention, coaxing her to glance towards the door. There, leaning part-way into the entrance was a salarian in a nurse's uniform, staring intently at her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to leave." He insisted. "Visiting hours are over."

"Oh." She muttered, as her head reeled a little when she realized how quickly she'd lost track of the time. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

The salarian nurse smiled, bestowed a grateful nod, and proceeded on his merry way.

Miranda stood up. "Ughh, mmph…" She grumbled and groaned as took a long, hearty stretch - her stiff joints a testament to how long she'd been sitting in the same chair. Upon finishing her little ritual, she walked over behind the chair and took hold of it by it's backing, preparing to slide it back against the wall. That's when she remembered the reaction Gordon had had to that in the first place. So rather than disturb him, she picked it up, walked it over to the wall, and ever so carefully placed it down, making nary a sound.

With the room back in the condition she found it in, she turned back to the slumbering physicist. She reached out, pulled his bed sheet up over his chest, and removed the targeting visor off his face, giving him license for a more comfortable sleep. Switching the visor off, she folded it and placed it neatly on the nightstand.

Miranda gripped the safety railings by his bed, and watched him for a moment. A happy chill shuddered her body. She smiled, brushed some of his intrusive brown hair back, off his forehead, and leaned in, granting a gentle kiss to his lips.

Still leaned over him, with her silky black hair draped over his chest, she pulled away. "I'm happy too…" She whispered, caressing the side of his face one last time, before finally standing up and making her way towards the exit.

The door swished shut behind her, leaving Gordon and his room in perfect tranquility. Or the room, at least.

"Mmrrr…!" Gordon groaned and jolted in his sleep. "No. Please, no…!"

"Tell me, Dr. Freeman, if you can - you have destroyed so much. What is it that you have created? Can you name even one thing?!"

Gordon's breathing hastened. His chest tightened. His jaw quivered. "No…"

"I thought not…"

---

The vast lakes outside the Citadel Tower glistened with the twinkle of mid-day. Even though it was nearing the late evening hours; on the Citadel the bright and sunny essence of springtime existed in perpetuity.

The water's reflection outlined two figures standing at the lake's edge. John stared pensively into space - his lips sealed, and his face void of all emotion.

"Are you alright?" Came the voice of concern from his quarian fiance.

"Yeah."

Tali sighed. She knew him well enough at this point to know he was hurting. And not just physically. His bravado may have been enough to mask concussions and gunshot wounds in the past, but it did little to downplay the anguish he felt inside.

"I know it hurts, John." Tali offered up, in an attempt to console him. "I'm sorry."

Shepard swallowed and his chiseled jaw quivered. Finally, the emotion came surging to the surface, as his face suddenly became etched with the heartache he'd been denying himself.

"I just wish he could've seen this, Tali." He declared, as he stared out over the lake - watching the coming and going denizens across the way. "The day the Reapers were no more. He deserved better than what he got."

"You're right." The quarian at his side agreed. "He deserved a long and happy life, John. Just like you said. It didn't happen." She affirmed with a doleful shake of her head. "But at least it's something you have a chance at now. I think he would've wanted that for you"

"Hmph." John tittered and forced a smile. He turned his gaze away from the lake, dedicating it wholly to Tali, as he reached out and took her hands in his. "I'd say I've got more than a chance." He declared, as his thumbs caressed the backs of her fingers. That's when he felt a large, jagged protrusion, and looked down to see the resplendent engagement ring he'd given her. His temporary smile dissolved back into the forlorn grimace of a man in mourning.

"I would've wanted to see him at our wedding." He said, in a voice that quivered and cracked, despite his most valiant attempts to mask it. This man who'd fought geth, who'd fought Collectors, and Reapers, and stood against death itself, was now waging a losing battle to fight back his own despair, and remain resolute.

"Hey, come here." Tali insisted, as she pulled the despondent officer into her arms, wrapping him in a tender embrace. He didn't resist her. At that moment, they were back on the Alarei - their arms wrapped around each other as she wept over her lost father. Only this time it was her consoling him.

"He'll be there, John." She tenderly assured him, in a whisper that kissed his ear. "Krosh nikei'rai rovianish'liah fais... Like my mother and father, he'll be with us in memory and in spirit."

He wanted to thank her for this, as he recovered in her arms. But the suitable words never came to him. Instead he just nuzzled her; feeling her presence keeping his inner turmoil at bay. He took a deep breath, breathing her in. And with a shaky sigh, he exhaled away his grief, and gulped down the knot in his throat.

As the turbulence in his soul finally began to quell itself, he opened his eyes back up just in time to see the unmistakable outline of Admiral Stephen Hackett approaching, having just exited the prominent Citadel tower. Several others were still coming and going from the structure - those that left seem to share the same air of dejection - some wiped away tears, others huddled close together in embrace, but most dressed in a mournful black.

It was likely on reflex alone that Shepard pulled away from Tali when he spotted the approaching Admiral. A Navy Man always maintains proper decorum whilst in the presence of a commanding officer, after all.

"Good evening you two." Hackett cordially greeted as he reached the lamenting couple.

"Admiral Hackett, sir." John acknowledged his superior with a steadfast salute.

"Good evening, Admiral." Tali met him with a respectful nod.

"Heh, at ease, Commander." The decorated officer said with a bit of a laugh, granting Shepard the license to lower his arm, and lock his hands behind his back in a still sturdy pose.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Commander, given your current condition." He expressed, as he lightly patted the side of Shepard's unwounded shoulder. "Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"I had to come, sir." John impassively admitted. "Had our cruise not taken the… 'detour' it took, I would have missed it. So at least some good came out of it."

"Yes, but you do too much Shepard." Hackett affirmed - exhaling a sigh and shaking his head. "Look at you! It's a wonder you're even walking." He proclaimed, as he gave the enfeeble Commander a hurried glance from head to toe. "But he was your C.O. - I get it…"

"Yes - and I think he would've done the same for me, sir."

"Oh-ho-ho." The Admiral released a hearty chuckle, as closed his eyes and nodded his head. "Yes, that he would have son. Of that, I have no doubt. Hell, the day I got this scar-" He began to elaborate, as he pointed to the deep red groove, which sliced down his left cheek to his upper lip. "-he carried me on his shoulders all the way back to camp, with a bullet lodged in his thigh. He ever tell you that story?"

Both Tali and John had stood somewhat wide-eyed at the sudden revelation. In their own minds, they'd each wondered how the Admiral's most distinguishing feature came to be, but neither would ever possess the discourtesy to ask him.

"No sir." John negated with a shake of his head. "I don't believe so."

The Admiral grinned. It was the kind of delight grandfathers take in telling their grandkids stories of days long since gone.

"Well, I took a grenade back during the Liberation of Shanxi." He began to regale. "The shrapnel broke through my helmet and damn near split my face in two." He said - very emotive as swept the palm of his hand across his face. "Now, I don't remember the grenade itself, but I do remember lying on my back, asking where I was. At least I was trying to - I think all that was coming out were gurgles." He shrugged. "I couldn't hear anything, and blood must've been pooling in my eyes, because all I could see were splotches of red."

"I remember… Someone tugging at my arm, yelling 'you're going to be alright.'" He said, squinting his eyes and upturning his gaze, as if the entire scene was replaying itself again in his mind. "After that, I remember looking down and seeing blood dripping from my face. It took me while to realize I was being carried on somebody's shoulders. I could see that the pant leg of whoever it was that was carrying me was drenched in blood. But it wasn't my blood. When I woke up later, in a medical tent, with my face sewn up, I found out that it was Anderson who had found me out on the battlefield and carried me there on his shoulders, with a gunshot to his thigh."

"Incredible!" Tali exclaimed, in a state of near shock.

"Yeah." Shepard concurred, exhibiting the same level of amazement in his eyes. "He... He never mentioned that story to me. I would've remembered it."

"Doesn't surprise me." Hackett casually admitted, with a nonchalant shake of his head. "That's the kind of man he was. The kind to save someone's life, and never even bring it up. The kind who'd win battles, and never ask for a medal. The same kind of man you are, Shepard."

John looked up at the Admiral; a countenance of surprise reflected in his eyes. But it was just for a moment before his eyes sank again. A brief silence passed between the three.

"Ahem, anyway." Hackett chimed in, as he fished around in his right pant pocket. "I meant to drop by your hospital room tonight, after the services. But it seems you've saved me the trip." He said jovially, as he pulled something out pinched his thumb and index finger. "There's something Anderson wanted you to have." He attested, as he held the object out for Shepard.

"An abraxas chip?" John queried, with a furrowed brow, as he reached out and took the tiny item. It was a tiny, blue piece of circuitry resembling a spinning top; round in shape with a tiny little protruding handle extending from the base "What's this for?" He asked with a confused shrug.

"For your new home." The Admiral casually stated.

John raised an eyebrow as a look of total bewilderment took over his expression.

Hackett grinned, and chuckled under his breath. "Anderson owned an apartment on Bachjret Ward, overlooking the Silversun strip." He began to explain. "He always managed to keep his will up to date. And in it, he leaves the apartment to you."

"The Silversun Strip!?" Tali exclaimed, with a gasp of disbelief "That's a very upscale area…"

"Indeed it is." The Admiral concurred. "I've never been there myself, but I hear it's quite nice."

"Why would he leave this to me?" John beckoned, still looking as puzzled as before. "Where would he have lived?"

"You were right about what you said in there Shepard." Hackett affirmed with a slow and subtle nod. "I don't think anyone truly wants to die in the heat of battle. Anderson did talk about settling down one day. Maybe raising a family. But he also told me a few times that he didn't think he could stand being away from Earth during his retirement years. In his last testament, I suppose he decided he wanted to leave the place to you."

John looked down at the small chip - the modern day equivalent of a brass house key - resting in the palm of his hand. That's when the words of a great man rang in his mind once more.

"Humanity is ready to do its part. United with the rest of the Council, we have the strength to overcome ANY challenge. When the Reapers come, we must stand side by side. We must fight against them as one! And together, we will drive them back into dark space."

"Heroes are ordinary men, who do extraordinary things-" He whispered to himself, as his palm closed around the key bestowed to him. "-at extraordinary times…"

"He was proud of you, Shepard." The Admiral proclaimed, as he stepped forth, and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "He never doubted you. And he always knew the man you were destined to become. You've done him proud. You've done us all proud."

John looked back up, his glazed over eyes meeting the Admiral's once more. "Thank you, sir." He graciously conferred, as he stood up straight with dignity and poise. "That mean's alo-argh! Urgh" He cringed in pain, and grunted through his teeth, as his aching legs nearly buckled under his weight.

"John!" Tali exclaimed, quickly taking hold of his arm to stabilize him, while the Admiral did the same on his opposite side.

"It's alright." The proud Commander quickly assured, straightening back up and putting on a bolstered facade. "It's nothing. I'm okay."

"Commander…" The Admiral started up again, in a pressing tone of voice, as he tapped a finger against Shepard's closed hand still enveloping the abraxas chip. "Your apartment number is B67-8V. Go home… Get back to the hospital… Doesn't matter to me which, but get. Some. Rest. That's an order!" He barked in a cheerful, yet forthright tone of voice.

"Heh, yes sir." John conceded with a nod, and a quick salute.

"I'm going to get him back to the hospital, Admiral." Tali assured, as she hooked an arm around his waist. "He's due for another IV Infusion."

"Then off you go." Hackett insisted, blithely shooing the couple away with a sweeping motion of his hand. "Even saviors of the galaxy need their rest. And Shepard, you take care of this one." He ordered, as he pointed a quick finger at the affectionate quarian. "She's a keeper."

"Don't I know it, sir." He agreed, beaming a grin as he glanced back at her.

"Be safe you two." The Admiral bid, as waved and turned to leave. "Farewell."

John and Tali waved goodbye, as Hackett walked away, heading back towards the ubiquitous Citadel Tower, likely still having business to attend to there.

With their own affairs there being handled for the time being, the couple turned and headed in the opposite direction, en route towards the nearest RT cab kiosk.

"So…" John began, as he hobbled along; clearly favoring his left leg. "Seems like those dreams of a long and happy life really are starting to come true."

"Oh…?" Tali asked; curiosity aroused. "How do you mean?"

"Well, the Reapers are dead, the galaxy is safe, and now I've got a home to share with the woman I love." He said, taking one last look at the abraxas chip in his hand, before palming it and stuffing it into his pant pocket.

"Hmhmhmhm." She tittered a bit under her breath, as they continued along at a relaxed pace. "Well, I seem to remember something about you building a home for just the two of us, on some far away planet, overlooking our own private ocean."

"You remember all that?" He asked, putting on a feigned pretense of nervousness. "I thought you were asleep when I said it."

Shepard smirked, and the two laughed together, as he hooked his arm around her waist, and reeled her in tightly. He nearly tripped himself in his own enthusiasm - but he was too happy to mind. After a short, blissful walk - the two finally reached the RT cab kiosk.

"She's right." He thought to himself, at that moment, as he watched Tali reach out and press the keypad, summoning a transport to them. "We really do have a chance now, don't we?"

As he waited, he almost lost himself in thought again. But just as he drifted away, he caught sight of something from the corner of his eye.

"Raaawwwrr!" A dark haired little boy, around six or seven years of age bellowed playfully, as he chased a fellow human playmate around. "I am a Reaper MONSTER! And I'm here to eat your planet! RAAWWWRRR!" He waved his hands over his head, growling and snarling at his friend.

The other child, a little boy of comparable age, with a head full of honey-colored hair stood fast. He puffed out his chest, placed two fists akimbo on his hips and held his head high. "No! I've come to stop you, Reaper!" He exclaimed with the valiance of an errant knight. "I'm Commander Shepard, and I will fight you! - Pachew! Pachew!" He yelled out, pretending to draw a weapon from over his shoulders, and subsequently opening fire on the imaginary monstrosity.

"Nyyaaaaow! Kaboom!" "Bang bang!" They yelled out in a fracas, as they ran around, engaging each other in play. "Ra-tatatatatatata!"

The Commander chuckled to himself, watching the epic duel of ancient monsters and space marines play out. He had clearly gone unnoticed, or perhaps even unrecognized by the two.

"John…! John!" He suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice call his name. On instinct, he turned to face it's source, and what he saw was a middle-aged human woman carting a load of wheeled luggage behind her. "Come on boys, hurry up. It's time to go back home. You too Davy!"

Shepard turned back to the children.

"Coming mama!" One of the two politely replied - whether this was John or Davy would remain a mystery to him. But as the two ran off, they continued their game of storied creatures and fanciful fleets. One of the boys spread his arms as if they were wings and ran about towards his mother. "Whooosh! I'm the Normandy!" He yelled out, about ready to take flight.

As the children caught back up with their mother, he quickly realized they were a family going back to their homes on the Citadel. A family being resettled after such a terrifying evacuation. The low hum of their RT cab touching down rang in his ear, as he watched them disappear into the distance. At that instant, an incredible sensation overtook him. It was overwhelming really.

"John, are you coming?" Tali's voice beckoned. He turned to find her already seated and waiting for him inside their cab.

"Of course." He acknowledged.

Before climbing in, he turned back and watched the reflection of the clear blue Citadel Sky glistening across the lake. A smile grew on his face as he thought of the galaxy David Anderson helped to secure for all the future little Johns and Davys of tomorrow. With his smile never dimming, he climbed in and sat down. The clamshell cab doors closed, and a red transit car rose to rejoin the rest of its kind in the everlasting commute in the Citadel Ring.

[:::Connection Lost. Data feed has been terminated until further notice. Goodbye.:::]