**Author's note** I'm sure you're all getting sick of these, but they show no sign of stopping. This one might actually be part of a little series about Thane and Shepard. No romance, sorry shippers, just good friendship. The only romance that may be going on is between myself and the bard ;) ;)
Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Shepard leaned back, looking up from her book to gaze at the stars which twinkled through the big windows before which she sat. The ship, her ship, was at rest. Normandy slumbered peacefully, humming gently to itself. Joker was at the party, as were the rest of her crew. There was a lot to celebrate. Even as she looked at the stars and listened to the ship's quiet melody, her mind kept going back. It had been one hell of a ride and she kept flashing back there. She reached for her glass of water and her hand shook so badly that she had to give up and put the glass back down or risk spilling all over herself.
There was a mechanical hissing sound as the door behind her slid open. She turned, a little surprised at who she saw. "Thane," she spoke as though he didn't know his own name and she was identifying him.
He ignored her brief awkwardness, striding a few steps into the room, hands clasped officially behind his back. "You're missing quite a party," he said.
"I know," she raised her book slightly, "I can't take too much celebration before I need some quiet. Being a commander you have to take your alone time whenever you can steal it."
"Indeed, Shepard," Thane nodded.
"Please, Thane, I've told you a thousand times; call me Val." She gestured for him to sit across from her. "So, what am I missing?"
"Well, Val, Mordin is quite intoxicated, which is more than a little amusing. However, he has not stopped talking for over and hour. For a while I had Legion record what he was saying, in case it was anything of importance, but it turns out he's reciting lines from a play of some kind."
Shepard laughed. She was a little unpracticed at laughing, not getting the chance to do it very often. "What else?" she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
Thane chuckled, folding his hands in the way he so often did, one hand atop the other. "It seems that Garrus and Tali have rigged some sort of machine that you sing along with."
"Ah," Shepard felt a smile crease her cheeks, still unused to mirth. "On my family's ship we called it karaoke. We had entire events devoted to it at frequent intervals."
"Interesting," Thane raised the scale above his right eye. "I do not believe they are doing it correctly. When I left they were well into a rendition of an Elcor funeral dirge. I had to depart before it became too depressing."
"Oh dear!" Shepard laughed loudly this time, and he laughed with her. When they finished both sat, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes, looking at one another. She considered his face, and he hers. Two warriors who had seen a lifetime of hardships. Two friends having a chat.
"What are you reading?" Thane asked after they had sat in contemplative silence for over a minute.
"Shakespeare," Shepard held up the book. "He's a human playwright from a very long time ago. Still, I can't seem to shake his words and ideas. This play is Henry V, about a warrior, a leader, who takes his people to war. I was just reading a scene about him convincing his disheartened troops to attack a city one last time."
"Is this your favorite?" he asked as she handed him the heavy book and he flipped through the pages.
"No," she admitted. "This one is my favorite," she held up a smaller play, also passing it across to her friend. "Macbeth. In it a mighty warrior is told he'll be king one day and he does everything he can to make the prediction true. In the end his own ambition undoes him."
"Interesting," Thane gave her a long look, and she felt slightly exposed, like he could see right through her. "The mission today went very well."
Shepard wasn't ready for that. She jumped as his words brought memories flooding back into her mind. Dark corridors, monstrous creatures, her crew in mortal danger at every turn. Her hands began to shake again and she clasped them together to keep them steady. "I'm glad everyone made it out alright," she said, her words were deliberate, rehearsed.
"It was hell in there," Thane muttered, again surprising her. "There were numerous times when I thought we were going to be killed."
"I shouldn't have put you all in danger like that," Shepard said, unable to stop the words spilling from her lips.
Thane stood, crossed the space between them in three quick strides, and squatted in front of her. He placed both his hands over hers, so she could no longer see them shaking, and looking up into her eyes. "As our leader, we would follow you anywhere. As our friend, we would follow you further."
She sat for a long moment, unable to say anything. Twice her lips moved, as if they knew she should reply, but no words came. Thane stood and walked slowly back to his chair. He picked up the script he had set there when he had moved to comfort her. "I suppose people think that the nice thing about knowing you're dying, is that you do not fear death. It's a lie you know?"
Shepard looked up then, feeling a deep sadness for her friend. Their bond had grown strong over the time he had spent on this mission with her. They'd battled side by side so many times. He'd saved her life countless times, and she his. "I've always had a sense...a sense that this isn't over yet."
"What do you mean?" Thane asked, sitting down and gently opening the pages, like a flower unfolding in his hands.
"This whole thing with the Reapers. It's not over. You know that you are going to die, and do it before you have fulfilled all you could in your life. So do I. I thought that perhaps this mission...but now I know my time is still to come. This can't be the end. The Reapers will come, and they will kill me."
Thane said nothing, instead he merely nodded, then cast his eyes down to the page and read the passage to himself, before he looked back up to her. "It doesn't mean you're not afraid, does it?"
"No," she said. "It does not."
"Tomorrow."
"What?" she raised an eyebrow slightly, looking across at her friend. He was squinting at the pages, as if trying very hard to understand.
"This passage," he held the book towards her so she could see. "Is all human writing like this?"
"No," she let her eyes caress the familiar words before Thane brought the book back into his lap. "Read it?" she asked.
Thane hesitated, scanning the words as though imaging how they would best be spoken.
"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
The two friends sat together, listening to the ship hum gently. Watching the stars. Both knew the words of a long dead, human bard, spoke to them as clearly as if someone had just invented them for their exact situation. The rest of the crew could not know exactly what they, the dying, could. That each tomorrow was a blessing, and a falsehood, but they would live them all until their allotted time. Shepard knew that anyone but Thane would have scoffed at her self proclaimed prophesy, but one dying man knows another.
Locked in mutual fate the two met each other's gaze again and they both smiled the unpracticed smile of the warrior. Then they stood, turning to walk shoulder to shoulder, back out to rejoin the party.
