Breathe. Tightly clenching her teeth Shepard demanded herself to keep her shit together. At a lazy pace the elevator ascended, unaware and unconcerned of her urgency. The sound of her pounding heart throttled unhappy fists against her eardrums in protest of the delay. When the elevator doors finally swooshed open, unveiling the lobby of Huerta Memorial Hospital, she threw herself free from the suffocating death trap.
It was crowded, people of all shapes and sizes seeking aid from medical professionals. Under different circumstances she would have paced the lobby alert to these people's needs, ears twitching like those of a cat's in hopes of maybe finding a way to help someone with something. As it was she didn't have time for detours. He needed her.
"Excuse me," said a murmur that sounded almost like her voice as she trampled over a salarian. She had no idea where she was going, not the slightest inkling as to where they were hiding him. Breathe. It wouldn't do for the great and renowned Commander Shepard to lose it in the middle of the hospital.
Poking her head into a room she called, "Thane?" It was the third room she had tried. And she intended to go on with the same technique throughout the rest of the goddamn hospital until she found her drell. Panic swelled within her, tightening her chest as it inflated all the way to her throat until it was impossible to breathe or swallow. Was she too late? Was he already dead? God, Arashu, Kalahira, anyone, please don't let him be dead.
Warily noting her distress, a human doctor risked his life and stepped out to intercept Anya before she barged into yet another room and scared a few more patients. He raised an expectant eyebrow, patiently waiting for Shepard to verbalize her needs. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a drell named Thane Krios." Her hands balled into fists at her side. Either he helped her or he got the hell out of her way. If she wasn't too late already then she was wasting time.
A hesitant look washed over the doctor's face. Anya's heart tightened at the sight of it. It was a 'please don't let me be the bearer of bad news' look. She had worn it herself on many occasions. Eyes focused on the data pad in his hand, he flicked through the information compiled within. Upon finding what he was looking for grimness darkened his features.
The doctor's face was expressionless as he informed her, "We have a drell here, though not under that name."
Have, not had. There was a chance that Thane was still alive. She still had a chance. Pouncing on the dim hope that she wasn't too late, Shepard elaborated, "He was injured. Stab wound. He's a regular patient here." That blade had gone right through him, cutting what time they had short. She exercised the thought, purging it from her mind. He was alive. It wasn't too late. There was hope.
"It's alright, it's alright," his voice turned soothing, it was a futile attempt to slow her down. "I see." Shepard was imagining the somberness of his voice. Nothing good came from a doctor who sounded somber. Gesturing for her to follow suit he stalked down the hall some, seeking a veneer of privacy in a hospital that offered none. "The doctors were able to repair a lot of the trauma. However, Mister . . . um, Krios is in the final stages of Keprals Syndrome."
Her already tight chest constricted some more. He was going to pinch out the meager flame of hope that she had forced herself to rally. He was going to crush her into dust under his feet.
"At its worst Keprals Syndrome interferes with his blood's ability to carry oxygen. And he's lost a lot of it." The attending doctor paused, inspecting her face, searching her eyes. Did he find pleasure in destroying her? Was that why he was showing no mercy? "Now, they've given him a transfusion, but frankly, there was a limited supply of drell blood on the citadel."
That was something she could work with. She had a ship. She had money. There were bound to be drell blood banks hiding around somewhere. She'd faced more challenging missions a dozen times over. "I'll get more. Give me his blood type." Shepard would have given him her own blood if it had been possible, all of it if need be.
Frowning he shook his head, hacking away at her just as she had started to hold herself together. His tone was almost scolding when he shunned her offer to help. As if she were being foolish in thinking there was anything she could do. It was probably the case. He was the doctor. She was only a soldier. "That's not going to work. Only one other drell on the station is a match, and that drell is in with him now. We did all we could to help him through surgery, but his body can't replace lost blood with new cells. Too much shock. His son, Kolyat, he's in there saying his goodbyes. You might want to say yours."
No. He was lying. This was a sick joke. She was not going to lose Thane after just getting him back. Six whole months she had been forced to survive without him. It had been a hell that nearly ruined her. And that had only been six months. Did this man honestly expect her to say goodbye and get on with her life?
Shepard clenched her eyes shut, forcing her emerging tears to stand back. It wasn't over. Thane wasn't going to die. Not on her watch. Prying her eyelids open she marched into the room that the doctor had waved her to.
The doors slid open. Kolyat was bowed over his father, hands held in prayer. At the airy sound of opening entries the young man stiffened and turned to face the intruder. His shoulders relaxed at the sight of her. "Commander Shepard," his gravelly voice greeted her. Though his tone was friendly there was no disguising the distress that boiled over inside of the boy that was a darker shade of green than his father. "My father mentioned that you were no longer incarcerated."
He glanced down to the floor. If he had been human he would have blushed. "I don't know if you remember me," Remember him? Of course she remembered him. If the situation wasn't what it was Anya would have greeted him with the warmth she saved for her friends. "I'm Kolyat Krios. I came to give blood and . . . well . . . "
Well, indeed. They both glanced over his shoulder at the man who occupied the hospital bed. Though Shepard's view was obscured by the young drell before her, who stood as a shield between her and heart break.
Returning his dismal gaze in her direction Kolyat explained, "He asked me to take off the mask so he could be comfortable." Emotion ran as thick in his voice as it did through her blood. "I don't think that it will be very long."
They needed more time. Why couldn't they just have more time? Raking her mind for something to say Shepard settled on, "Your father helped me save a lot of lives." Oh God, how shallow that sounded. Kolyat's father, the love of her miserable life was dying not twelve feet away from them and that was the best she could do? Anya didn't want to be the great and mighty Commander Shepard anymore. She wanted to scream at these so called gods that dared to take Thane Krios away from her. She wanted to curse the Citadel's synthetic heavens for putting her in this helpless, hopeless, position.
Biting the inside of her cheek as she forced herself to keep it together, she requested, "I'd like to be here." If he turned her away she would respect that, but not without a fight.
To her relief Kolyat inclined his head in understanding and replied, "Of course," before moving away. Her shield was gone. Heartbreak was hers for the taking.
Her legs were rendered to rubber, threatening to let her collapse onto the floor in a puddle of desolation. Keeping her raging emotions in check was a challenge without equal. All at once she had to maintain her unshakable pretence, while forcing one wobbly step after the other until she reached Thane's bedside.
How she wanted to reach out and touch him, to caress the scales that served as the arc of his cheek bones, to feel the silky red flesh that stretched out under his chin and neck. All Anya could think of was crawling into that twin sized hospital bed and curling up beside him, wrapping her arms around his body as his torturous breaths burdened him no longer.
She fought the tears like she had fought the Collectors. For Thane and Kolyat she would be strong. The doctor's words should have prepared her for this. He had unwittingly admonished her against hope, explaining to her that there was none to be had. But she had ignored him, disregarding his professional opinion. She was Commander Shepard. She made things happen, and she would make Thane Krios live whether or not he wanted to. It was foolish, childish. Anya set herself up for disaster and had only herself to blame.
From the beginning there was only one way this could have ended. Gazing down at the man that she had fallen so deeply, so completely and irrevocably in love with, Shepard forced herself to recall her first memory of this drell. His scales had been a little brighter back then. His death a little more distant.
The arrogance of this woman. It almost annoyed Shepard how many goddamn mercenaries she had to plow through just to get to the top of this stupid tower. If she didn't enjoy the fight so much she would have been really pissed. The fact that Nassana was about to be dealt with was the only thing that made Shepard stay her hand at the sight of the coward. She was about to get what she deserved. And Anya had front row seats.
The taller they are . . . thought Shepard as she admired the view over Nassana's shoulder. The asari had hid away in her sky scrapping fortress, teamed with armed mercenaries and killing innocents that couldn't get out of her way fast enough. Hers was a well deserved fate. And Shepard entertained conversation as she awaited the grand finale.
"Shepard," Nassana greeted her with a questioning look. She was starting to get used to that look. With a frown she muttered almost to herself, "But, you're dead."
Was she? Oh dear, then she really shouldn't waste any more time in finding a grave to burrow into. This reoccurring conversation was truly starting to get old. "I got better."
"And now you're here to kill me," the mercs beside her tensed, fingers tickling the triggers as they anticipated their orders.
Anya almost laughed. Casually she scanned over the room, searching for any entries that Thane would take advantage of. There were the side doors, likely armed. And the window, which would be more trouble than it was worth to get through. If it had been her she would have gone with the ventilation shafts. His options were limited. But he'd been doing this for a lot longer than her. She was positive that the spectacle to come wasn't one worth missing.
The side of her mouth twitched upward as she inquired, "You're really paranoid aren't you?"
Waving off the Commander's question, Nassana rebuked, "Don't patronize me, Shepard."
"Charming as ever."
The asari droned on for a bit, recalling a relative that Shepard had dealt with. Her tension was palpable. This woman so undeserving of life really did not want to die. Shepard wouldn't have helped her if she could. "You really think I'm here to kill you?"
"Do you have another reason for destroying my tower?" Well if she hadn't Rapunzeled her way to the top of the dumb tower it wouldn't have been destroyed in the first place. "Decimating my security," now that was just the fun part. Shepard's day hadn't really started if a small army wasn't decimated.
She tried to shrug off her amusement, "I'm just looking for someone."
In true Dantius fashion Nassana attempted to buy Shepard's submission. To toy with the woman now would have been cruel, a cat pawing at a mouse. Shepard wouldn't accept her credits anyway. It was likely to be blood money. There was the slight sound of movement overhead. With a smirk Anya gave herself a pat on the back. Through the vents, she called it.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest she assured her, "All the credits in the world won't make this problem go away, Nassana."
The woman's impatience grew, along with her dread. Voice dripping with venom she compared herself with Shepard, claiming to be equal, her crimes no greater than the woman standing before her. It was pathetic. They weren't equals. Nassana killed because she could, because she had the power to get away with it. Anya killed because she had to, because it hadn't been within her power to avoid it.
Bumping within the vents grew in volume, setting Nassana and her guards on edge. Without a strategic thought in her blue head she commanded half of her too few guards out the side entrances, minimizing the force between her and fate. And still she thought she held all the cards, had all the power. Orders barked past her lips, pompous as she tried to maintain the image of her control.
He fell from the ceiling like an acrobat. Landing with a feline grace, he sifted through Nassana's guards as if they barely warranted notice. The drell danced. His motions like water, every step ending a life, every death bringing him closer to his target. If she had blinked she would have missed it. As soon as he had dropped from the vents it had been over. Nassana was dead.
The drell stood over his kill, palms embracing and head bowed. He was a stoic creature, standing like a statue, a regal angel of death.
Shepard had to stop herself from biting her lip. It had to be a crime to look that good in leather.
The sound of Garrus' voice broke her out of her appreciative trance. "Impressive," he smoothly observed, and it took quite a bit to impress Garrus. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."
That he did. She took a step towards the green sculpture, awaiting his reply. What did his voice sound like? What kind of person was this stolid man? When the turian's statement went unanswered she added, "I was hoping to talk to you."
"I apologize," his voice was gravelly, low and level, easy to listen to. It was a sedative and a toxin. Shepard liked the sound of it. "But prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken."
He had told her from the start that his days were numbered. There had been no dancing around the topic. She knew from the beginning the risks that came with loving a dying man. And still she couldn't bring herself to regret a moment of it. Shepard's heart lurched into her throat as she tried to see past the tears that swam before her. Her drell was a water color of greens behind the film that protected her from the atrocity of his final breaths. The sound of her heart shattering blared like a Reaper's horn. This war had to end. She had to see it through. But after that it was the sea that awaited her.
Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve.
He was leaving his body. But soon she would be with him again. There was just one more thing she had to do.