Standing in the doorway of the battle-torn apartment, Shepard looked across the room to see Garrus readying the turian support troops for the final push to the beacon. She paused to reflect on all of the events in her life that had led her to this moment and found herself wondering how she had actually ended up here. Not "here" at the final battle to prevent extinction by Reapers. No, she understood that trajectory all too well. She was wondering more about how, exactly, she had managed to be in this room, preparing for the final push of this epic battle, looking at the only man she had ever truly cared about, yet never having told him just how much he meant to her. She found herself wondering at her extraordinary feat of procrastination.
She shook her head in silent self-reproach. She knew she had a real problem with procrastination. It was one of her biggest and most glaring flaws. Her friends knew it. Her crew knew it. The Alliance knew it. Hell, Cerberus did too. Now, that's not to say that she couldn't kick her ass into high gear and get things done when the time came. And she was extraordinarily focused and disciplined when she needed to be. There was no way she would have ever become a soldier, let alone an N7, otherwise.
But there was really no denying that there were certain ways in which Shepard was the absolute worst procrastinator. It didn't have to do with missions, and it had very little to do with mission reports, even though she hated paperwork. Mostly it was just when it came to people and uncomfortable situations. Emotions, really. Only the very messy stuff that would give even the most experienced soldiers pause. In that regard, Shepard reflected, she wasn't really that extraordinary. Surely there were many like her for whom putting off difficult and emotionally charged conversations was a regular occurrence. Because to do so meant making yourself very vulnerable, and if there was one thing that she, in her life as the Commander Shepard, had learned not to do, it was to make yourself vulnerable.
The slight relief she felt at that thought, however, evaporated in her chest when heard the hum of another Reaper beam destroying everything in its wake, and she realized that this really, finally could be the end and she had managed to justify continually not saying the words she was now both longing and dreading to say- words that had given her hope and purpose in the face of hopelessness, and more meaning in her life than she had ever dreamed possible. But she had truly and finally run out of time to put off saying them. This was it. End of the line. Time to buck up, deal with it, and save the galaxy. Because she had little doubt that there would be no such thing as "later" for her. She had already decided she would do whatever it took to permanently eradicate the Reapers, and she couldn't for the life of her imagine a scenario in which she could succeed at that goal and still somehow walk out of this alive.
Of course she'd never say that out loud, but it was a concession she had already made in her own head, in her own heart. But if she was being honest, that was what was making this even harder. Because, after putting it off for months, trying to always think of the future but knowing deep down that she most likely wouldn't get one, how in the galaxy could she say the things right now that she couldn't say in the safety of a warm embrace in the darkness of her cabin on the nights when she felt the most peace she'd ever felt? If she couldn't say the things in the height of that euphoria and temporary solace, how could she say them now, at the end, staring death in the face?
And finally, it hit her like a ton of bricks. The reality of the situation. The finality of this moment. And she then had a stroke of clarity and a realization as pure as her determination for the challenge in front of her. She had to say these things now, right now, at the precipice of what almost assuredly would be the end for one simple reason: Because time was finally up. Because she absolutely had to. There could be no more waiting. She had to say them now, or they'd never get said at all.
Shepard blew out a sigh, closed her eyes and took in a deep, labored breath to steel her resolve. Then she set out across the rest of the field of rubble to bear her heart to her turian for the first and final time.
