don’t think about how as shepard was spaced, her last thoughts, before blind panic and pain of suffocation and cold hit- was how fucking relieved she was that the crew got out.
don’t think about how she gladly would have given her life for any of the crew- if joker hadn’t been the last to leave, someone else might have, and she’d have done the same.
don’t think about how the captain will always go down with her ship.
don’t think about how when she wakes up again, her first thoughts are for her crewmates, her team, even as she’s hurting, and fighting for her life, surrounded by people she doesn’t know.
don’t think about how it’s been two years for everyone else, but for shepard, the pain of being spaced was practically yesterday. they had to deal with her dying. she has to deal with having been dead.
with everyone having moved on, and here she is, left in the ashes of the normandy, trying to claw herself out of the grave they put her in, in their minds and hearts.
