(A little shorter, but I decided to split this one and the next to give them more identity as chapters - Shepard at work, as it were. I've tried to keep Shepard's oratory abilities intact [a la the trial on the flotilla] whilst also showing him to be really be invested in what happened. As always, let me know your thoughts!)

The conference was a small affair - no vaulted ceiling here, just the cavernous shuttle bay of the dreadnaught. The press corps was pretty diverse - mainly humans, but at least two Asari, a salarian, Turian and even a Drell. And Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Shepard met her eyes and nodded cordially at her. She managed a wan smile back at him. Last time they'd met they had reached an accord of sorts. Never quite eye to eye, but never as brutal as some more seedy tabloids would have you believe. His appearance had caused a brief chatter amongst the journalists, as well as a few flashes from camera drones and omni-tool scans. So, that was cover thoroughly blown then.

He managed a quick glance around the room as a whole: an effort had been made - banners representing all the Council races were draped from the lifting cranes; the crew were lined up at the edges of the room in full dress uniform; the chairs were neatly laid out and over to one side there was a modest buffet for post-conference relief. And to provide ample opportunity for ambush by zealous reporters.

He listened as Hackett delivered the standard welcome, a quick update on the state of affairs - the trials ahead; the importance of coming together, what had already been achieved. Old platitudes, but important ones. The galactic family. He squeezed his eyes shut at that, stomach lurching, memories roiling for a moment. A cliff, a dusky sky and red sands, Hope - as if it was yesterday but now so very long ago.

And then his name. He started suddenly, the rank an unfamiliar addition. A gentle pressure on his hand brought him back to the present. He glanced and saw his mother nod. Standing carefully, he leaned against the cane he had been issued - his left leg still in a bad way - and took several deliberate and slow steps to the podium.

What to say? He'd been briefed: simple, to the point. The truth, as much as that was possible, Try not to rock the boat, he supposed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure, a privilege and a relief to be standing in front of you now." His eyes surveyed the room, only really recognising Al Jilani - no Emily Wong it would seem. A casualty? Likely. Another friend lost to a hideous and senseless war. He steeled himself and persevered, "I'll try not to repeat what Admiral Hackett has said. It's been nearly a year and I'm sure you've heard it all before. It bears repeating, though: we faced an enemy far far beyond anything our societies have ever faced. We came through it. You came through it. We have lost much. So much. But we are still here. And although I've only been up on my feet a few days, I can say I am proud to be part of the galaxy again. My regret is that I wasn't able to help. Yes?"

He pointed at a Turian in the front row. The man rose, his mandibles twitching in what Shepard recognised as the preamble to a question. The man's two-toned voice was higher pitched than Garrus' indicating a Turian just out of his juvenile phase.

"Admiral, it's clear that you are among the living again, but why the year long absence?"

"Injury. From what I was told, I was lost in the medical triage chain, listed as MIA and eventually KIA: that's missing in action and killed in action for those of you not yet quite up with the military speak."

The Turian nodded and sat down - a straightforward answer, like his audience would most likely demand. Another hand was raised; Shepard nodded to the questioner, an Asari. She gave him a cool look and raised her Omni tool to record.

"Commander, I hope you don't mind me calling you that, it's what we all remember, what exactly happened during that final push?"

He managed to bite back the retort - it would have been out of character. And the rank was almost like his first name these days. Shepard managed a smile, but he morphed it into a vaguely confused expression.

"To be honest ma'am, sorry, I didn't your name, it's very blurry. I remember heading onto the Citadel and triggering the device designated the Crucible. I am sure you haven't asked every soldier for a blow by blow recount of every fire fight that day?"

"Do you feel the number of soldiers committed to the assault in Lon-Don was a worthwhile tactical risk?"

He studied her for a moment and nodded slowly.

"It was our only viable course of action - as I am sure the freely available reports show, as well as witness testimonies, an assault on the Citadel directly would have led to an increase in casualties by 43.5% I remember the number because the Geth are very precise on these things. A ground assault, it was decided, was the best method to both assist a very drained defence force and to prevent Reaper forces from reinforcing…"

"But don't you think you owe it to the families of those men and women to provide a more detailed account of what they were sacrifice-"

"That is enough!"

Shepard was shocked that it hadn't been him that had spoken. He was more shocked that it was Al Jilani who had rocketed to her feet. She fixed the Asari with a steel glare.

"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. And don't you dare insinuate that the Admiral did anything less than necessary. I have given that man the hardest time I can and not once, not once did he demand anything. Shame on you, shame on all of you. Because of him you're able to stand there all blue and smug."

Shepard coughed lightly and smiled at the zealous reporter. He managed a thankful nod, and then fixed his gaze on the vaguely stunned Asari.

"From what I understand, the final tally for casualties in London during Hammer's assault stands at 650,000 estimated. That includes Krogan, Turian, Quarian, Asari, Elcor, Volus, Salarian Free Volunteers and human, as well as other unaffiliated races. Everyone knew the choice here: die on your back, die mad under the Reapers, die with a gun in your hand or live with a gun in your hand. That doesn't include casualties inflicted during the occupation of Earth. Or the occupation of Thessia. Or Palaven. I believe that tally still hasn't been tabulated but sits somewhere in the low billions. Now, if I could bring every damn one of them back by dying myself, I would, by the gods I would. But if you want to talk about debts, then every family still alive out there owes that to those men and women. Me, I was just the lucky sap who made it through. Me and Admiral Anderson, who died in the execution of his duty."

Shepard took a shuddering breath and loosened his grip on the podium. He watched the Asari sit down, cowed by the expressions of her fellows. A Salarian stood next and cleared his throat.

"Admiral, what do you have to say to those commentators that would accuse you of genocide?"

The question caught him off guard.

"Genocide? You'll have to forgive me, I am not quite up to date on the latest political ball games."

"Simply that some aspects of the community believe that by eliminating the Reapers you utterly denied any chance to rehabilitate the huskified victims of their assault; indeed, by wiping out a major synthetic species you condone such actions. If, as rumours would indicate, the Reapers are, or were, the collective cultural remnants of previous species, you are in fact guilty of destroying entire histories, a great cultural crime."

Another shocker. Shepard was impressed and yet also utterly taken aback. He rallied, however - you don't talk down a giant ageless metal monster by being easily flustered. By women, yes, space monsters no. And definitely not by journalists.

"All I can say to that is that I will face my detractors, if indeed there are any and that I will submit myself to any recognisable court that wishes to make the claim that eliminating an implacable, unknowable threat was a war crime. Sir, if I may be so bold, I would state that you are talking out of your cloacae." A delightful phrase from Kirrahe, and one which caused the Salarian to blink in surprise, "We were faced with an enemy that brainwashed it's victims, liquefied prisoners and offered no surrender, only subjugation. I would like to apologise if you, sorry, members of the community were denied the privilege of becoming part of a genetic soup encased in alien metals, forced to relieve their dying moment for eternity."

The nervous laugh that rippled round the room barely defused the tension. Shepard pressed on, his voice clear, but low, almost a monotone.

"However, I and all those who served with me had been charged with saving as many innocent lives as possible. I would like to point out that the Reapers had signed no treaties, were subject to no galactic law, nor chose to engage in dialogue. I would also like to remind you, sir, that I was given explicit instructions from the Council and no less than nine leaders of various political power blocs to do my utmost to trigger the device that was seen as a "last ditch effort". We did not know if it would merely scare them off, fire some Chinese cookies at them or fry them to within an inch of their lives. And, frankly, having seen what a Reaper is like on the inside, I feel that what I did was a mercy on those poor souls who fell before us. I am glad that we have the ability to ask questions like that."

He looked at the crowd and managed a friendly smile that just avoided being a rictus.

"We are alive. So many are not, but it dishonours them to not do our utmost to cherish that we are still here and able to ask inane, thoughtless, questions, to debate morality. It's what me and mine are here for. Thank you ladies and gentlemen; I feel that I have said enough. I believe the Admiral and his staff will take further questions during the hosting event."

He pushed himself away from the podium and grasped at the cane. He limped back towards his chair as the reporters thundered into more questions behind him, quelled only by Hackett damn near shouting them down. He slumped heavily into the seat, clenching his teeth as pain hissed through his damaged knee. His mother's concerned face turned to him but he managed to shake his head, to keep her seated for a moment. He managed a tight smile.

"I think that went well."

"Fox. Chicken coop. I'm sure there're a few other analogies. But yes, quite a few noses out of joint I wouldn't warrant. But also records straightened. Well done John."

"Thank you Admiral."

A short summary and then came the tedious one-on-ones, the round of buffet drinks and finger food. He maintained polite conversation, but the various Alliance chaperones kept the majority of journalists at bay. Only Al Jilani got through. She held out a hand, chin tilted up. Shepard took it and pulled her into a hug, clearly startling the woman and a few other bystanders. He released her a moment later and nodded.

"Keep pushing as, Khalisah. Kept making sure we do the right thing for the right reasons. And before I forget - it's good that you're still with us."

She blinked, clearly slightly dazed. The reporter gave him a smile.

"You too, Admiral Shepard. You too."