W/N - Just a shorty before I go. Let's look at Garrus' frustrations and Shepard's grief. I blended some military traditions to script that scene. And, don't think for a minute that Garrus' frustrations are fiction. You can't make that stuff up.

Merci beaucoup again. See you in a few days.

C-Sec Headquarters – 0800C

Special Agent Garrus Vakarian

"You have got to be kidding!" Garrus groaned out loud as he checked his C-Sec intranet mail. The turian clenched his fists as heat rose in his cheeks. He read the message again to make sure he hadn't misunderstood it. No…he hadn't. He was sure that the other 100 letters screaming his name would be just as aggravating.

"What is it, Garrus?" an asari asked, leaning over to see what was getting her friend in an uproar.

The lean turian stood and paced a couple of times before he could answer. "Maira…you won't believe this. Pallin's nitwits are asking me for another case review."

"Isn't this the third one in as many months?"

"You know how long those things take? Between source validation and the budget audits, it's a full time job just preparing for the review."

Maira smirked. "You don't have to tell me, Garrus. You're preaching to the choir."

He sat down again and scrolled to the second letter. He knew instantly that it was a mistake. "No! No! I don't believe this!"

"Garrus, you have ninety-eight more letters to go through. Do I have to call the paramedics for you?"

"Maira, get this. Pallin's bean counters are switching us to new case management software to save credits. And guess what? I don't have access to my own cases now!" Garrus threw his hands up in the air. He wasn't sure who was the enemy here, Executor Pallin or the Red Sand dealers? To make matters worse, the head of C-Sec had surrounded himself with sycophants and yes men, seeking to advance their own careers. Pallin could talk a good game about enforcement and public safety, but in the end, only the rules and compliance issues were important.

"So, how are you going to prepare for the review?"

"That's my point." He made another grunt and began typing a reply. "Please grant me access to my own cases so I can do your damn review…send." A chime sounded and he saw that a message had been sent in return. "Okay, it says that I've got to call the help desk."

Maira handed him a phone.

Garrus punched in the numbers as if he were poking Pallin in the eye, jabbing each key with force. "Hello? This is Gar- Wait a minute…. This is an automated answering system. It's telling me to send a letter to ask for access!"

Maira took the phone back. "Garrus, take a break. Let me tell you…if you stroke out at your desk, Pallin will sweep your body aside and have another agent at your desk by the afternoon."

"Maira, I just can't brush it off like that. I care about doing my job and enforcing the law. Criminals like Doctor Saleon are running roughshod over us while we push paper. It's not right."

"No, it's not. But you can't change it. C-Sec is what it is. You go head to head with Pallin and you'll lose. Your father wants you to have a long career."

Garrus sighed. "I know, Maira, I know. I just don't understand anymore. I've tried to do my job with honor and aggressively attack crime. Those things are meaningless around here. Look at who got the awards last month – Agent Dzwilos? He couldn't investigate his way out of a paper bag. An elchor could outrun him and a volus would kick the pants off of him. The man is a disgrace to the uniform."

"I know, Garrus. He is. But he never misses a compliance issue and that's what management wants. He plays the game."

"But it's not a game, Maira!" Another chime sounded, telling him that another letter had come in. He clicked it and a video of Executor Pallin began running.

The Executor had an air of aristocracy to him and he held this aloof demeanor with his nose high. "Vakarian, get on a shuttle to Eden Prime immediately. You are to look into allegations that Saren Arterius murdered his fellow SPECTRE, Nihlus. Also, the humans claim that Saren orchestrated the attack on the planet. Find out what you can. You have seventy-two hours. Don't forget your case review. If you think this investigation alleviates you of that duty, you're sadly mistaken."

Garrus was taken aback. "Saren? The most revered SPECTRE in Citadel Space?"

"Whoa? That's unbelievable."

The turian shook his head. "No, it's believable. I've never trusted Saren. He's one of those who scoffs at our laws and breaks them at will. In my eyes, he's nothing more than a murdering bastard. I hate the bureaucracy, but the law is the law."

"You father would get a kick out of you investigating Saren. I know he hates the SPECTRES, especially Saren."

"Yeah, he does. Hmmm, you know, I'll bet this is just a ploy by Pallin to set me up for failure. Plus, I can't possibly finish my review. Well, too bad. This is a blessing in disguise. It gets me out of the office."

The Human Embassy Chapel on the Citadel – 1800C

Lieutenant Commander Claire Shepard

The gathered crowd shuffled uneasily, finding seats where they could. Claire sat next to Captain Anderson and Lieutenant Alenko as organ music piped throughout the chapel. She had worn her dress blues, finely pressed with a rack of ribbons set beneath the golden wings of the N7 cadre. The high collar of the uniform always made her neck itch, but this was important. This was the funeral of marine Corporal Richard L. Jenkins, SAMC.

Claire was really beginning to feel it now. She had played the possibilities out in her head dozens of times. What if she had kept Jenkins in the rear? What if she had told Alenko to keep a closer eye on him? She had lost a number of people under her various commands, but she remembered every one of them. Jenkin's naïve smile particularly haunted her this day.

She scanned the large crowd. Jenkins was a popular marine. He had this 'boy next door' type of character and was a likeable guy. The color guard had turned out in force with seven marines carrying antiquated rifles made of wood and iron. Their uniforms were sharp as knives with black berets pulled down crisply to sit above their ears. One marine carried a steel saber, polished to perfection to send Richard to his final rest. In their midst sat a casket of oak and brass covered with the flag of the Alliance.

Seated across from the crew of the Normandy was a middle-aged couple and a teenaged boy along with a mix of other civilians. Claire saw them, dressed in black, weeping. It had to be Jenkin's family. She gulped hard and bit her lip to stifle the hot, moist feeling spreading through her nose and eyes. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"It's never an easy thing, commander," said Captain Anderson.

"He died defending his home. His family is alive because of him."

"And you," he said.

She nodded solemnly as a lone bugler played Last Post. In times like these, tradition was everything. Tradition was often all they had to hold on to. A numb feeling spread through her limbs as the chaplain spoke of duty and honor and Richard's brave sacrifice. It was something she had to believe in today. Richard L. Jenkin's life had to mean something.

"Present…arms!"

The one marine raised his saber, which glittered in the lights. At the same time, the riflemen brought their weapons up to their chests, held diagonally. With sharp movements, born of precision and training, the men discharged blank rounds into the air. Claire blinked at the crack of the rifles. Twice more they fired in honor.

"Shoulder…arms!"

The skirl of bagpipes then resonated, tearing the air with grief. Claire immediately recognized Flowers of the Forest. On cue, a solo soprano joined in, adding her voice to the pipes. The commander tried to sing with the growing throng, but a lump in her throat caught, forcing her to only mouth the words.

"The Flowers of the Forest are all withered away."

It was her turn now. It should have been the Captain, but he said it was her duty and her honor to do. As she walked up to the casket, the color sergeant and one marine took the flag and folded it into a crisp triangle. She took it from their hands and walked slowly toward Richard's parents. I can't face them.

Claire forced herself on and knelt in front of Richard's mother. Shepard presented the flag, trying not to look the woman in the eyes. All she could hear was her grief. Missus Jenkins took the flag and grasped the commander's hand. "Thank you, Commander Shepard. Richard looked up to you. He said you trusted him and that you protected him. I know you did everything that you could. You saved the colony."

It was like she had been kicked in the gut. She wanted to pull away, but she knew that the woman needed this and this day was not about what Claire Shepard wanted. She tried to say something moving…something that would honor the memory of this fallen marine, but all she could say was, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Missus Jenkins released her hand and Shepard stood and about faced. With slow, half steps, the officer marched back to her seat as the color guard hoisted the casket. They moved in unison, carrying Richard's body with reverence. Claire looked over to the Captain, who was dry-eyed and stone faced. She admired his control and fought to maintain her own. Even Joker kept his cool, sitting without expression, holding his crutches by his side. Pressly was a basket case though.

She knew what was coming next and the bugler sounded Taps, the brassy notes hammering at Claire's heart. She thought about how on Earth would she be able to send another person to their death? She could barely handle this. If this was a portent of things to come, was she up to snuff as XO of the Normandy? Making difficult, life or death calls would have to be done without regrets. In war, men died. It was that simple. Captain Anderson understood that.

With a shaking hand, she wiped her nose with a white handkerchief. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Lieutenant Alenko. "Commander, would it be inappropriate for me to hold your hand? It looks like you could use it."

Claire licked her lips. Perhaps it might be inappropriate, perhaps not. She didn't care. She lightly grasped his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin. It was a beautiful gesture of caring and she found that she liked the sensitivity that came from his being. She gave him a faint smile. "Thank you."

"Grief is not weakness," he said. It was as if he was looking right into her soul and knew her very thoughts. Were the rumors of biotic telepathy right?

She nodded, looking into his eyes. Would she be able to make the call to sacrifice him? What would she feel? She only prayed that such a time would never come.

CODEX –

SAMC – Systems Alliance Marine Corps

Last Post – A bugle call used by the Commonwealth military

Flowers of the Forest – An ancient Scottish folk tune used by the British military at memorial services

Taps – U.S. military bugle call