~~~000~~~

Pain was a fickle, funny thing.

In all her life there's always been pain, and there was never any shortage of it. That much was expected.

It made commander Jane Shepard feel things, sure, but they were basic emotional and physical agonies that she could push away at a moment's notice. Its a trait she'd always been able to tame; walling up her personal boundaries so she could be the stronger leader everyone needed. Deemed a ruthless champion to some and a model for her crew so they could always rely on her. It alienated some of them, probably, but that was just fine with her if it meant they could all walk out of this Hell alive. No one person was ever privy to her own inner turmoils, or actually managed to get so emotionally close to her. She's pushed all of them away.

All except for Garrus, she figured. He always seemed to know whenever she needed a certain friend by her side, somehow. It was always him, if not Liara or the oddly observant Joker. But she digressed.

Nonetheless, pain controlled Shepard and that was an absolute she counted on. Sometimes it was an underwhelming sensation easily buried beneath her duties; while other times it was a horrible, shitty fireball of sheer horror shooting through her jumping arteries. Like right now: this was one of those times; where that god-awful sensation left the dizzying impression that she was burning within the hottest, deepest, most miserable pit of Hell's molten bowels. It felt strangely well-deserved, considering all the suffering her fellows endured serving her. At the end of the day, pain was the one who slipped into bed with her most; a grave now well dug. A final place of rest.

Let no one else get dragged down with her, she figured.

At the end of the Reaper War, there was a way to end it all while only sacrificing her own life. That's fine with her, considering the repercussions of the other 'choices' the catalyst gave her. Synthesis seemed, for lack of better word, correct in a sense. Maybe even inevitable after all she's seen. Hell, Shepard was partially synthetic herself as testament to that actuality.

There's no denying evolution; even if it's shift can be delayed.

Saren's words and actions hadn't been wrong now that she thought about it, even if his methods were something extreme; that she condemned at one point. His ability to turn himself into something that fused machine and flesh had shocked her once, disgusted her next, and horrified her later. His attempt to becoming "The pinnacle of evolution" was what resulted in his defeat three years ago.

With this in mind, Shepard considered the Geth, Edi and Leviathan's machinations: The memory of the rogue Spectre and his union of steel, blood and bone; which no longer disgusted her after her latest battles, with her welcoming it for all it's worth. Saren wasn't wrong, although he was certainly flawed in his methods.

Shepard was always prepared to make crucial (if not impulsive) choices throughout her struggles the last few years, and this was no different. She's always told herself her own life was something she'd give first before risking the Normandy crew itself, although she's done some rather questionable things. She knew she hurt some of her comrades with some of her strange decisions, pushing them aside for the mission and all. But it got the job done. She regretted some of it, but still she strived to do better.

And that held true for this instance: Destroying synthetic life was throwing all of organic life back quite a few years, and it meant killing Edi and the Geth, and destroying the Mass Relays. Sure, the damned Reapers and their abominations would die too, but the cost was just too damn high. Controlling the Reapers was another alternative, but that didn't sit right with her at all. It wasn't natural for any one sentient being to manipulate an entire age of life.

So, in some sort of messed-up way, that left the last option up in the air:

It was a perverse scenario, picking and choosing what would become of life as she knew it, but it was the only option she could boil down too in the end. Killing herself to make the Crucible work was fine with her. Better herself than them she figured. Still, deciding the fate of an entire sapient space-faring generation of organic life and the life afterward was an unnatural crock of bull-shit. Something like that was a weight no one person should ever be left to bear, or even get to ponder at all. At least she won't live long enough to regret her decision.

So, all-in-all, fuck it.

I've never really done right by them, Shepard thought as she leapt into Hell's maw. Too many have died because of me. I made these choices; and no one has ever pushed me to make them. I'll live with their outcome and die with them. Its my life for theirs; for those that followed me.

Edi. James. Cortez. Adams.

For those that carried me through adversity.

Miranda. Tali. Chakwas. Even Javik in his own hard-nosed way.

For what we sacrificed.

There was too many to name, but Shepard knew the faces; she could never forget. Ashley, Kaidan, Thane, Jack, Legion, Mordin, Wrex; some were examples of people she failed to save. Others were lives she'd willingly given for bitter victory. Too many more were relinquished to the cause itself throughout time.

And... for those whose loyalty was never questioned.

Liara. Joker. Garrus. Anderson.

All of them. Everyone.

Her final dive into her resolved end brought all this weight with her, but it was a something she could always shoulder. Happily.

And it was at this, an advent, unexpected rush of serenity soon followed her deigned acceptance. Death's willing hands opened to the commander as she felt her mortal body disintegrate into the lime-light of the Crucible's energized pillar; a final release from all of the existential terrors brought about by the Reaper's threat. She was okay with that, even though it meant disappointing those she left behind. Those precious few who would continue to live, even when she couldn't.

Her last conscience thoughts lingered on all the rest; God knows how many surviving, loyal friends she was leaving behind. Still, she'd given them their best chance, their best hope for a future, and she could only pray that this was the one, last, right decision out of her many mistakes. She'd made too many bad calls throughout the years, and Jane had wished too many times that she could've corrected them before this moment. To go back and fix them all. It was something she never usually dwelled on, but death had a funny way of making you sentimental.

But maybe, this one decision was her last redeeming act. After all, whenever the Commander had resolved to achieve a means to an end, anything was possible.

No matter what the cost.