Each foot step took immense effort and the iron grip on her pistol turned her knuckles white under the blood stains and burns, she dragged herself toward the blinding ray of pure energy that blasted through the centre of the catalyst's platform and out into the vast emptiness of space. The view was truly something to behold. Above her, the Commander could see Earth in all its battered and broken glory with its cities ablaze; she knew that all over it soldiers were fighting a brutal ground war for survival, watching friend and foe die. Around her the battle waged on in the dark of space. Countless ships and crewmen facing their demise at the hands of an incomprehensibly powerful force, the power of their ship's explosions barely shook the ground Shepard stood. The Crucible untouchable.
Space had never looked so heartbreakingly beautiful as she tossed her pistol to the side and pulled her bloodied body towards its destiny, her pace increasing with every terrified step until she was at a sprint; her body was screamed in protest, it's broken bones and broken heart facing the ideal that it would be no more. She raced to save everyone she knew and could have known as all around people fought and died just to give Shepard enough time to save them.
She could feel it in her gut, these were her final moments. She could finally rest, for real this time. Thoughts of the thoughtless clouded her mind as she ran head-first at what she hoped would save all that she loved and hated. Shepard ached all over, her armour as broken as she felt. Blood dripped from her wounded body as she moved, her footsteps landed with echoes that only she could hear.
Her heavy breaths felt tight in her chest, she thought of all that she had done. The Battle of Elysium, her standoff with Saran at the Citadel, the destruction of the Collector base, fighting a Reaper one-on-one and so much more. A long history of battle and survival, it felt like it hadn't stopped since that week after her sixteenth birthday when her small colony of Mindoir was attacked by slavers and she remained as the only survivor later picked up by a passing Alliance patrol. So much war, at only 32 she had seen such hardship, so much suffering and death. Experienced it even. Her tale was a long and widely known one. Many considered her to be a hero and a legend.
And yet, her legacy was coming to an end, and what an amazing end it would be.
The great Commander Shepard, giving her life for the survival of others.
So she jumped.
Her body was flung into the searing hot energy that coursed around her and consumed her, became her, a whole new pain taking place that was almost too much to handle. Its burning power destroying her but making her more. Her body was no longer hers. Disintegrating, she felt less and less of herself but more everything. For no more than a second she was everyone, she could feel everything. Every terrified scream and sigh of relief. Every death and birth. Everything as everyone became so much more they could have become alone.
She was the universe and the universe was her. She knew everyone and all that they had done, what they had succeeded and failed, their hopes and ambitions. She was everyone and everything and the war was over and they were all safe and she had done it; Shepard had saved them all and her job was done.
No longer would she have to endure the gruelling battle field, visor on and shotgun in hand with bullets raining overhead and blood dripping from her fresh wounds.
No longer would she have to spend every sleepless night plagued by the doubts and the fears of what would happen if none of this were to work, if she were to fail.
No longer would she have to carry the weight of countless lives on her shoulders with a smile on her face and not a word of complaint.
She could finally be at rest; she could embrace that cold darkness.
The senseless nothing.