The weight was unbearable.
He was sure that breathing wouldn't be so difficult if this damn metal beam, or panel, or whatever the fuck it was, wasn't on his chest. It wouldn't become easy, but it would be better at least... The first breath had been so painful, he hoped he would never have to do it again. And he had been right to hope so, because the second, and all that followed, had been excruciating. He could feel something in his chest rapidly rising up his throat and he knew what was coming and dreaded it. His eyelids quivered.
The cough exploded, blood flooding into and then out of his mouth, his ribs felt as though they'd been simultaneously dislocated again, his abdominal muscles screaming. Blood flowed in his veins, only to seep out through cuts and haemorrhages. His nerves suddenly kicked in and sent screaming messages of pain from bruises, grimy cuts, pulled muscles, broken bones... The sound bounced off the rubble, and echoed hollowly. Alone. Completely alone, almost crushingly so, or perhaps that was just the metal lying over his already broken chest. He could feel his heart beating sluggishly, painfully, against his sternum. It rang in his ears. Somewhere nearby, a support beam collapsed, clashing loudly to the ground. It was then that Shepard realised how cruel the universe really was.
A choked laugh couldn't help but force its way out of him. It brought up more blood with it and Shepard had to concentrate to stop it. He closed his mouth and focused on short, quick, shallow breaths through his nose, it was a notch above holding his breath, but at least it was more comfortable.
He'd been dead on his feet when he'd stumbled his way to that glowing red console. Of course, it had to explode and injure him even more, too. But by some miracle from a God he no longer believed in, the blast hadn't killed Shepard. He was alive. But he'd survived only to die slowly. Perhaps the next support beam to collapse would be the one over his head.
He supposed the silence was a blessing. No fighters roaring, or missiles launching or blasts in the distance meant no Reapers, right?
Something sad inside him imagined Kaidan suddenly appearing above him. His hair mused and face flushed, an expression of stoic glory, and a glowing beacon of light illuminating his head from behind.
"Shepard," he would say, "I've come for you."
He would lift the rubble off the commander and pull him up, and his sheer presence would simply dissolve all the pain in his body. A passionate kiss. Maybe an ass grope. And then... hospital. Yeah, going to a hospital would have to happen, fantasy or not.
Shepard didn't know why the image had made him cry. It was the last thing he needed, he could feel his nasal cavity clogging even more and he had to gasp though his mouth again. It was stupid, delusional. He carefully, slowly, slowly, turned his head to the side and felt hot tears run over the bridge of his nose. Perhaps now, it was alright to cry. No one was here to see it. It was all over. The Reapers were gone.
It... It must have just been the thought of him.
He didn't know if Kaidan was alive. What if he wasn't? He could hear those desperate words again in his mind, don't leave me behind. What if Shepard was the one who'd been left behind? Maybe it was better to die, if Kaidan was already there, then he... he just didn't know.
Kaidan.
At this point, he didn't care who it was, he just wanted someone to come. Pull this damn metal off his body. Save his damn life. Give him one more chance, even if it had to be one last chance, to see him.
The wait was unbearable.
