A/N: Inspired by a Mass Effect Kink Meme prompt, but also by West One Music's song Elysian Fields (YouTube that shit. It is beautiful) and Thane's letter to Shepard from the LotSB DLC/after the gross mistreatment of his character in ME3.
No beta cos I'm badass. BioWare owns all of this.
Dear Jane
Memories had an awful way of sneaking up on me of late.
Perfect recall, a trait passed down from when my people needed to remember every small pool of water in an endless desert world, had become more of a hindrance for me since returning from the Citadel. Walking through the bright corridors of the Normandy I found myself envying the rest of the crew. They had the ability to forget. I did not.
The scene in the 800 Apartments had been my worst nightmare. My son, following in my footsteps. He had taken life. He was self-destructive, disconnected. He was hurting and it was entirely my fault.
'So you came to get my forgiveness? So you can die in peace or something?' He waved his arm dismissively at me. Red and blue lights flash over his face revealing the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. But worse than that was the sheer anger that showed in every movement he made, every word he spoke. His eyes narrow as he glares at me and I am ashamed at how different he has become from the little boy I once knew. My son is a stranger to me. Guilt settles in my gut. I have failed you, Kolyat.
Kolyat's words still hurt. I did not show the pain on my face, of course. My training had forced such luxuries out of me more than thirty years ago. But that did not mean I did not feel it. Not too long ago I would have considered that a weakness, being able to feel anything at all. How can one take out a target if one feels empathy? How can you kill a man if guilt plagues you?
But I had awoken from my battle sleep.
She grins as she pulls the trigger, bright hair loose and wild around her face. She moves with fluidity and purpose. The smell of eezo and gunfire clings to her skin. Gloved hands slam a heat sink in place as she moves further into the battle zone with deadly grace.
I tap the glowing green circle to open Life Support, unsnapping my jacket as the doors part. I peel the soft leather off and for once I don't bother to fold it, letting it fall onto the too small cot by the wall. Her scent still lingers here. The doors shut behind me trapping me alone with the smell of her.
I sit down at the small table and stare at the chair that has become hers. Bowing my head I try to slip into meditation for a few futile moments before giving up. She is too present in this room. I was used to having a goal to work towards, a target to track. My purpose had always been clear to me before. But not now. Somehow Shepard had derailed me.
'I'm here for you, Thane. Whatever you need.' She offers a small smile while fingers twist on the tabletop. Grey eyes look up at me, unsure. Something swells in my chest, blocking out the pain in my lungs. Something not felt since my Irikah had passed.
Until now I had been content to merely watch her from a distance. Honored to be part of her squad. Humbled to receive her attention and affection. But something had shifted. My mind replayed our moments together over and over. Being with her made my stomach swoop. Her image kept me awake at night and the sound of her laughter became my mantra.
I had not expected her to feel the same as I did. We were very different after all. And what right did I have to her? What could I offer her? My time was short. All I could bring her was pain. But around her I am becoming selfish.
I long to grasp her hand, to feel the difference between her skin and mine. My mouth moves into the first smile I can remember giving in years. 'You are very kind. Thank you for listening Siha.'
I drop my head into my hands with a groan. Siha. Why did I call her that?
'Why call me that?' she asks, pain in her voice. She does not cry. Irikah never cries. She pushes away from the doorframe, passing me without so much as a glance. I reach out for her but she pulls away from me.
'Because it is what you are,' I tell her, letting my hand fall. "You are strong and-"
'You don't give me a choice Thane. I have to be strong. I'm a single mother after all.' Her back is to me and her small frame shakes. I have never seen her so angry. I wish I could look at her face, but she denies me. I move closer to her, my chest almost touching her back. I lay my hand on her shoulder and she flinches.
'Everything I do, I do for our family, Siha.' She turns in my arms, pushes me hard. I refuse to move and clenched fists strike my chest. I grasp her wrists, stopping the assault. Fury is etched on her face, her voice loud.
'Don't call me that! Don't you think-' she stops, distracted, looking to the no longer empty doorway. Kolyat stands there, roused by our fight. He is small and frightened at being caught, but he still manages a childish glare. Kolyat crosses the room and forces himself between us. Tiny hands shove at my stomach.
'Don't hurt her!' he yells trying desperately to be brave. I let go of Irikah's wrists but Kolyat continues to push at me. He doesn't realize I have already hurt her but not in a way that will leave bruises.
I push away from the table, shaking my head to try and stop the onslaught of memory. Seeing my son had brought back too much of my old life. But I had no right to complain about that. I had abandoned him after all. I had abandoned both of them.
The door is ajar and my heart stops. I know what I'll find inside but foolishly I dare to hope. Her blood stains the walls. My wife is an unrecognizable crumple of flesh in the middle of her once spotless kitchen. Pain seizes my chest, robbing me of breath. I fall to my knees before her body. The ground is wet underneath me; the floor stained a deep red. She was wearing her favorite dress, the green one. She had said it reminded her of me. My fingers reaching out to grip at the ripped fabric and the blood there is cold.
A whimper makes me spin, gun raised. Kolyat blanches but does not retreat. Her blood stains his hands. Fear is in his eyes. I drop the gun and it clatters onto the floor.
'I tried to wake her up Daddy. But she wouldn't.' Tears fall down his cheeks. Tears I cannot cry. I reach out and he wraps small arms around my neck. I hold my son and let him cry, for both of us.
That old hurt echoed in my heart. I could not stay still so I paced back and forth in front of my weapons shelf. That was the last time I had touched my son. Hate settled in Kolyat soon after. He blames Irikah's death on me and rightly so. I did not beat her or hold the gun to her head but I had killed my wife. And now a small branch of hope between my son and me had been extended. But if Kolyat ever found out what Shepard meant to me, what she was becoming, any hope of reconciliation would be lost.
Siha. She was worthy of the name, but in Kolyat's eyes I only had right to call his mother that. Would Irikah have minded? Would Shepard once she knew what it meant? But with so little time allotted to me did it even matter? I am a dying man and only now have the Gods seen fit to bless me with my son, with love.
If I did not know otherwise I would think it punishment for all the lives that had ended by my hands.
Shepard squeezed my shoulder as I entered the Normandy with a promise to see me later. Sympathy is in her eyes after having seen the fall out with Kolyat. My heart leaps at the small touch. Her fingers linger too long to be friendly, teeth biting her lip, blush on her cheeks.
I force myself out of memory again. Shepard has awoken me from my battle sleep. I feel now because of her. She has given me time with my son. She has given the ability to make the world a bit brighter before I die. She has stood by my side, a virtual stranger, and defended me. She had brought me out of ten years of isolation. She had given me hope that I was not a damned creature.
By all rights I should already be dead. Nassana's guards were supposed to take me out. But Shepard had forced me to move; her cause had compelled me. And in return she had given me more than she knew. But that did not change the fact that I was a dying man. I would do nothing but bring her grief. Part of me realizes that she knows this already but I refuse to acknowledge it. I need to protect her from that. She deserves better than an already dead assassin.
The urge to simply hit something is growing and it shames me. I cannot remember ever being so conflicted nor can I remember ever feeling as much as I do at this moment. I could not recall such indecision, not even with I finally approached the Illuminated Primacy to leave the binding of my Compact. That thought makes my relentless pacing halt.
Soft sheets tangle around naked limbs. She touches my face, sunset-colored eyes follow her fingertips. I can still taste her on my tongue.
'Why are you here?' she asks me.
'Because you awoke me. You brought life to me.' Irikah smiles and her mouth is on mine again, sheets slipping away revealing all of her to me once more.
Shepard had returned life to me, as had Irikah. But that very fact besieged me with guilt. Loving Irikah had gotten her killed. If I loved Shepard, if I gave myself to her in the same way I had Irikah, what would happen to her after my passing?
I did not wish to be a burden for her to carry.
I do not try to hold in my groan of frustration. Maybe it would be better if I just stepped back from Shepard. Remain friends yes, but nothing more. My gut twists at the prospect. I want to go to her, talk to her about it but I cannot. She has enough on her shoulders. I drop heavily onto the cot and it creaks under my weight.
There are so many reasons not to continue down this path. Irikah and Kolyat weigh heavily on my mind. My deteriorating body. The very real prospect that this mission will bring about not only my end but hers as well. I close my eyes and lean back against the cold wall of the ship.
I see only two choices in front of me.
Walk away from her. Leave her to find someone else, someone who has more to offer her than a broken family, failing lungs and death. To entrust her protection into another's hands and pray that they look out for her. To hope they will care for her as much as I do.
Or to make my intention clear. To throw caution into the wind, as humans so often say, and selfishly make her mine for the last few months of my life. To love her with every part of me. To protect her until my last breath.
Her back presses to mine and the recoil of her gun runs down her arms and into me. I imagine I can almost feel the heat of her body through thick layers of armor. A hand squeezes my forearm before she darts away, assault rifle blazing in her hands.
I had no choice really.
She laughs, eyes dancing as she looks at me over the battlefield. Her face is covered in grime, her hair lank but she is still beautiful to me.
Arashu had revealed her as my Siha.
The comm is blown but I see her mouth shape my name. She lights up a brilliant blue as her biotics charge.
I would give her all of me.
She stands tall, a warrior angel, fighting for a just cause. Fighting for the innocent.
All I had to give, anything she asked for, it would be hers.
She walks with purpose past her fallen enemies. She gives me purpose.
With a small sigh I booted up my omni-tool and begin to type.
Siha,
I write this with a heavy hand, knowing you will read this letter when I am no longer able to share my thoughts…