Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.
she hates fighting like this. there’s no optimal way to fight, of course, no truly preferred method of taking down geth or pirates or husks or creepers save not having to take them down at all in the first place, but there are nonetheless situations she’d care to avoid. they’re backed into a corner, crouched down behind the walkway that’s taking a beating as bullets and rockets slam into it, shaking the metal fiercely enough that shepard doubts it’s going to last much longer. this situation? entirely undesired.
liara is hurling everything she’s capable of over the makeshift barricade, fingers and gaze blazing with her biotics, while she and garrus manage the occasional shot before ducking down once more. it’s ineffective, inefficient, and shepard curses under her breath for allowing them to get backed into this corner into the first place. (assess your options, anderson had told her after she had enlisted, pick an option. defend that option.)
the scream of a rocket as she blares by, close enough to her head that she swears she can feel the heat prickle against her neck through her armor. shepard closes her eyes, inhales roughly. breathe. anderson had told her that too. breathe. in and out. breathe when you feel like you can’t.
her heartbeat pounds in her ears, all but roaring in her blood and seemingly loud enough to drown out everything around her. shepard embraces it, exhales on the thump, allows herself to feel her racing pulse shudder throughout her body. alive, she thinks, still alive after everything. they’re alive and the geth waiting for them, which will never know a heartbeat, much less a pulse and the bruises that coat her skin, don’t get to threaten that.
eyes crack open and her gaze scans the room once more, spies a small opening between walkways. she looks back to liara, visibly exhausted to the point where shepard can see her fingers trembling, then catches garrus’ gaze.
garrus nods without hesitance, talon resting just along the trigger. “of course, commander.”
she’s always trusted her peers. most of them, anyway, but there’s not a single moment of hesitance. of course garrus has her back.
“on three.” she reloads her pistol, sucks in a breath and steadies her hand. “one, two, three-”
shepard sprints to the opening, grabbing the edge of the walkway as she hurls her body around it. hand lifts and she pulls the trigger, then pulls it again and again. there’s a mechanical whirl aside her and before she can turn, she sees a spray of wires erupt from its head. garrus. she’d smile if she had the time or energy.
another stride forward, unfaltering, and another geth collapses. one step at a time, she tells herself as she spies garrus and liara move beside her, the tell tale shimmer of biotics, step after step after step. repeat as necessary.
