My Mass Effect drabbles, glorious failures, and other completely unbeta'd bibs-n-bobs of 'what might have been'.
Each 'chapter' labeled as to pairings, rating, warnings, etc.
For the seriously bored, end-notes to follow as to why I think things failed. I welcome critical discussion and feedback, and I always answer each message.
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Title: the same from near as from far
Summary: Shepard doesn't believe in heaven, Thane does, and Garrus is tired. Post-ME3.
Rating: T
Pairing: f!Shepard/Thane
Wordcount: ~2,200
Warnings: Off-screen character death.
She hates this dream, the nightmare that leaves her in a cold sweat, heart pounding, waking in twisted damp sheets.
She knows it's a dream and she still hates the trees without their leaves, and the oily shapes that whisper in familiar voices, only to fade before she can confront them. She hates the weight of her limbs and the feeling of confusion. Mostly, it's her helplessness that's so upsetting; the inability to save the little boy before the flames engulf him.
Maybe this will be the night she'll be fast enough, clever enough, a good enough soldier to save him from burning.
She turns in a slow circle, listening for his choking sobs, searching the shadows for any sign of the strange light that surrounds him. The wind picks up, sending leaves skittering around her ankles, making the trees sway in strange, slow rhythms. Above her, branches rattle together like dry bones and then the trees groan and all Shepard can think is they sound exactly like husks.
It's a relief when she finally spots a glimmer of light in the distance.
The trees thin and the shadows fade and it's a surprise when the forest gives way to sand dunes.
Well. This is new.
She hears gulls now, loud and raucous, and she steps from the forest without a second thought.
The dunes are low and rolling, dotted with coarse grasses, and as she picks her way through them she doesn't think to wonder why she needs to follow this path.
The sun sweeps overhead, and in the way dreams are, it moves more quickly than it should, falling before her as she walks. When she climbs the final dune, and looks out over the sea, the only fire she sees is reflection from the waves.
-o-
The day is almost finished when Thane finds her at the sea's edge, where the waves advance only to retreat, leaving a wide ribbon of dark sand behind.
She faces the horizon, and in the ocean before her breakers spill over and over, crushing one another as they follow random patterns to the shore. But she is not watching the coming tide; her eyes are fixed on the place where the falling sun will eventually sink below the water.
The wind teases her hair, and she removes her gloves, tucking them in her belt. When she pushes the stray strands from her face, he is reminded of a moment from before, of pale sand, of strawberries and rain, of her skin against his scales.
He makes no sound as he approaches, yet Shepard turns sharply as he nears, her hand dropping to the grip of her pistol. The red of the setting sun paints her armor, her hair, her very skin with fire. Death has done nothing to dim the light in her eyes, the sharp challenge he sees there.
His steps falter.
Fearsome in wrath; a tenacious protector.
She is truly one of Arashu's own, come home to the goddess' side.
"Thane." Her hand drops from her pistol. Despite the confusion he hears in her voice, she doesn't hesitate to close the gap between them. "How... Were you waiting for me?"
"I – " He is surprised at the warmth of her fingers when she takes his hand in hers, with the way her body fits against his as they embrace. Time has no meaning here and yet he realizes he has been too long without her touch. "I will always wait for you, Shepard."
Before, in the still, sterile air of the hospital, he had told her he missed her. Now, with her arms around him and the smell of salt on the ocean winds, he thinks how inadequate those words were.
She steps back and considers him.
"I was just thinking about something. Do you remember..." she starts, then shakes her head. "Stupid question. I called you a bastard the first time we met."
He chuckles, thinking of the heat in her eyes that day. Of his words of disdain. "I misread the chaos surrounding you. Your mission drew me to you, nothing more."
"And who says romance is dead?"
There's a tiny shell by the toe of her boot, an empty spiral of chitin a sea creature once called home. She crouches down, picking it up between two fingers. When she stands up again, she places it in the open palm of her opposite hand.
"You told me it always rains on Kahje," she says, frowning at the shell. Grains of sand stick to its concentric curves,
"I did," he pauses, considering his words. "This is not Kahje."
"Then where..." she looks over her shoulder and he follows her gaze.
A line of steady footprints march through the low dunes, away to the distant leaf-bare trees. In that place of twisted dreams, he could only whisper to her, hoping to light her path in her darkest hours. In her nightmares she had been alone, running through the forest with its fog and black shadows. Now...
Now he can see she has found her way without him. Her familiar black armor is battered and scarred and there is no defeat in her. Despite all she has suffered, the bruises and scrapes and scars he does not recognize, he sees no fear in her, no retreat.
"Oh. I..." a crease appears between her eyes and he sees a flash of understanding. "Thane. I saw you die. I put your name on the wall."
"Yes. It was a good death." The memory does not take him, but he thinks of her sorrow, the things left unsaid as he lay in his hospital bed. "But I am sorry my passing caused you pain."
"I gutted Kai Leng." She closes her hand around the shell and looks away from him, back to the waves. "If I could have made him suffer, I would have. No one fucks with the people I love."
"This I understand." Flashes of memory flicker in his mind. Memories of blood and horror that he refuses to surrender to now. "I could find no mercy in myself for those who killed Irikah."
She is staring at the water again; the sun has sunk further still, touching the horizon. Her fingers open , the shell falls, returning to the sand. Her voice is tight with emotion when she says, "I destroyed them."
"Yes." Now he is the one to close the space between them, stepping to stand between her and the endless movement of the ocean. He takes her hand, feeling the grit which clings to her palm. "The Reapers are gone. Destroyed."
The muscles in her jaw tighten. The grief that surrounds her is almost tangible. "No. EDI. The geth. They trusted me. I killed them."
Ah. I see." He bows his head, inner eyelids opening and closing. He cannot argue this point with her, will not cheapen the sacrifices she has chosen by speaking empty platitudes. "Yes. They have crossed the sea. But, I believe they understand. They are not as they were and hold no anger."
A crease forms between her eyes as she raises her hand and shades her face, looking toward the setting sun. "They're out there, aren't they." It's a statement of fact, not a question.
"It is difficult to explain."
"I'll bet." She laughs, the sound is short and choppy and again she is
"You know... I have done this before. Dying." She looks at him and searches his features, as though seeking some truth. "And I don't believe in heaven any more now than I did the first time."
He hesitates before reaching up, fingers ghosting the line of her jaw. "Perhaps I believe enough for both of us."
She sighs at his touch, leaning into the caress. "I'm so tired, Thane."
"Siha. If any have earned their rest, it is you."
"Will they be okay? The ones... The ones I left behind." She turns and looks back at her footprints.
"I believe so." He hesitates and immediately feels shame for doing so. "It's not too late for you to return. If that is your desire."
"I have to decide soon, though." She nods at the sun. "Don't I?"
He forces himself to answer honestly, despite the remaining fragments of mortality that beg him to keep her with him. "Yes."
-o-
Garrus knows he's late, and except for this one appointment he keeps every year, he stopped giving a damn a long time ago. For her, though, he does feel a little guilty.
He follows the stone path through the park, his left knee is acting up again in the cold, damp air and it's making him cranky. His heart thumps dully in his chest, and he starts breathing more heavily as his blood refuses to circulate fast enough. He's already had one reconstruction, but at his age... he's tired of being poked and prodded.
At some point, he thinks, it's better to let things take their course.
If it weren't for the package he's carrying, he probably wouldn't be here, but he figures he owes her this much.
He does slow down, though. No sense in falling over dead before he gets to talk to her one last time, before he gets to give her this one last gift.
It's starting to spit rain when he sees the familiar outline of the memorial. Built on the site of that last frantic rush to the beam, the single spire sends up its own beam of light, but this one doesn't end in the Citadel.
Years ago, the tech in it had been hacked and now the light extends past the furthest of Sol's planets, reaching out indefinitely. Endless.
He likes that, and he thinks Shepard would have, too. What would've made her laugh, though, was the rumor that it was a nephew of a famous salarian and a thief who broke in and modded the thing so it would outshine a star.
His steps slow as he reaches the base of the spire. He stares at her name, stark letters on a plaque, fixed the side. He doesn't have to read the language to recognize the letters and know what they stand for.
The rain is coming down harder now, dripping in his eyes, collecting in his cowl.
"Like I keep saying, you picked a hell of a planet to be from, Shepard," he grumbles, not feeling bad about the complaint. "Told you last year I might not make it again, but looks like I'm here. I... huh..."
He trails off, eyes following the beam of light cutting through the dense clouds. Water stings his eyes and he looks down again, rubbing them tiredly.
"Sorry. This is it, though. Can't make the jumps like I used to. Knee hurts, heart's about shot." He snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Like the living have any right to bitch to the dead.
"Not that it's been too much fun without you, you know. Killing off slavers sort of lost it's appeal after you..." His throat tightens unexpectedly and he lays his palm against the smooth stone in front of him. "Damn it, Shepard. I would have gone with you."
His heart hurts, and not in the metaphorical way. His doctors have warned him about stress. He's warned them he's tired of warnings; he's still the king of the bottle shooters, and they should show a little respect.
"Nothing wrong with my eyes," he mutters. "Or my aim."
He lowers his hand from the memorial and starts to slowly pull the protective film off of the package he's carrying, annoyed by how clumsy he's gotten. Then something occurs to him, and he looks skyward again, blinking away the rain.
"But, hey. I can understand about you wanting to stay with Krios. Hope when I get there, you can come visit the bar, let me buy you that drink. Gotta come up for air, sometimes, Shepard.
"Reminds me, I keep meaning to tell you something. You two weren't as discreet as you thought." He chuckles. "Joker let it slip about the elevator after that fight with the red sand dealers."
The rain slows, tapering off completely as he finishes pulling the last of the film off the long strip of hard, black polymer. White letters are carved into the surface, and he doesn't need to read those either.
"So you know, it was a pain in the ass to get this. Had to call in a few favors. Hell, a lot of favors. After they pulled apart the ship and decided to put your plaque here instead... well. Plenty of people were pissed. Should of seen Liara rant..."
He has to stop and catch his breath. "Anyway. Thought you'd like to have this one here. Rather have it stuck out here in the rain, than on a wall in a museum."
His heart contracts and his head swims with the sudden spasm of pain and he leans against the spire, shoulder pressing against the letters of her name.
"That can't be good," he mutters, as the pain finally eases. "Huh. Better get this done."
He taps his omni-tool, activating a modification he had designed just for this purpose. Then, with hands far steadier than he has any right to expect them to be, he solders the plaque on, directly under her name.
Commander Shepard
Thane Krios
"There. If you don't like me defacing your monument, you can chew my ass out over that drink." He touches the spire again, head swimming. "Think I'm just going to go sit down over there for a minute. Maybe rest for a little while."
He walks slowly to one of the park benches, lowering himself carefully. The air has a strange stillness to it, like it only gets on this planet after it rains, and he thinks again she could have picked a better place to be from.
Maybe he'll tell her that again, the next time he talks to her.
END
A/N:
"the same from near as from far" is a direct rip-off from a Wiki article about fractals. (Can't provide a source link here, but it's easily found with Google.)
Not exactly thrilled with a bunch of things:
The premise worked in my head, but on paper... not so much.
I like the idea of loss as a repeatable pattern... but I missed opportunities in the execution of the theme as I switched from POV to POV.
Also, there's this weird structure imbalance going on; the first two parts don't feel like they fit the last. Keeping Shepard alive and writing the entire thing from her viewpoint would have suited this better, methinks.