I've started playing the trilogy over and just finished ME2 with a Thane romance, and I thought their scene right before the suicide mission felt a little rushed. So I'm starting there, going into more depth, and continuing it a bit, trying to capture the complex emotions and thoughts that couldn't be packed into a one-minute cut scene.

This isn't the same Shepard as my previous stories. Rhiannon Shepard is a Soldier/Engineer, Colonist, Lone Survivor, and though still strongly Paragon, leans a little more Renegade than Morgan did.

Eros/Thanatos

Rhiannon Shepard let the datapad in her hands fall as the door to her cabin slid quietly open. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw who was there, and her voice came in a breathless whisper. "Thane!"

She almost didn't recognize him. Thane Krios rarely showed emotion—icily calm on the battlefield, serene and tranquil aboard Normandy, he was a paragon of self-control. He even spoke of his own impending death with an eerie nonchalance. It drove Shepard crazy sometimes, but she understood why he was like that. Whenever his perfect memory sent him spiraling into an all-consuming flashback, she caught a glimpse in those huge eyes of the inner turmoil that belied his outward peace. Now, though, that turmoil bubbled to the surface, as if the strain of just holding together had finally become too much. A different man stood before her now than she had last spoken to down in Life Support.

Even his customary stillness had broken down, and he now paced the width of the room as he spoke. The words came with difficulty at first, then faster and faster once the floodgates were opened. "Siha, I… I have known I will die for many years," he began, his crushed-velvet voice strained. "I've tried to leave the galaxy better than I found it. You've helped me achieve more than I thought possible. We've righted many wrongs—I've spoken to my son. I should be at peace on the eve of battle."

He was getting increasingly agitated, and it was painful to watch. "Stop," Shepard said gently. She took his arm and placed herself in his path to stop his pacing, but he kept his head bowed and wouldn't meet her eyes. She had never seen him like this before. "Don't give me a speech."

Thane hesitated. "I am… ashamed," he forced out.

That surprised her, but she could see the truth of it when he finally raised his eyes to hers. He didn't offer an explanation, though, and she didn't know what to say. She understood being afraid to die—anyone who wasn't was either stupid or kidding themselves, and Thane was certainly neither. Yet he held himself to that standard anyway. Why? Out of some sense of honor, of dignity?

Looking for some way to offer a little comfort, Shepard reached up to caress his face. But he batted her hand away and turned aside to lean heavily on her desk, moving stiffly, his usual easy grace evaporated. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, then his whole wiry frame tensed and trembled. In a sudden burst of anger, he slammed one fist into the cold metal surface, the sound shattering the near silence like a gunshot. "I have worked so hard," he ground out. "Meditated and prayed and done good deeds. Atoned for the evils I've done. Prepared. Yet I consider my body's death, and a chill settles in my gut. I am afraid. And it shames me."

Shepard had slipped one hand over his as he spoke. "Thane," she interrupted, and he turned to face her once more. Her heart clenched when she saw the trails of tears on his face, the naked pleading in his eyes. "Be alive with me tonight," she whispered.

Those eyes… those huge, dark eyes could be so expressive when he let his guard down. A dozen emotions flashed through their depths, dizzying in their intensity. His brow furrowed as the last barriers fell, and his soul was laid bare in those eyes.

This time, he didn't pull away when she touched his face. When she kissed him, oh so gently, he pulled her in deeper, returning it hungrily, almost desperately. When they parted, raw and aching, he was trembling again. "Siha," he moaned, and the sound slithered down her spine and coiled low in her belly. He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly to himself.

"I'm here, Thane," Shepard breathed. "Anything you need, I'm here."

"You are all I need, siha." Thane released her from his embrace and took her hands instead. Slowly, questioningly, he began to lead her toward the bed.

She stared into his eyes, searching, as he lowered her gently to the mattress. The last thing either of them needed was to regret this later. "Are you sure you want this?" she asked.

Thane stared back solemnly. "I have wanted this for a long time."

Afterward, they lay curled around one another, each finding comfort in the other's presence. Thane stroked one finger lazily up and down Shepard's spine, marveling once again at how soft her skin was, how it slid over his scales like silk.

This would be a memory he would cherish for the rest of his days, numbered though they were. For a while, he had been able to forget the constant pain in his lungs, forget the dark spectre of death, and lose himself in his lover. For a while, he could put aside the possibility that even this very day could be his last.

For a while, he could simply be alive. With her. With Rhiannon Shepard, his angel, his siha, who had blazed into his life as though sent by Arashu Herself to awaken him from the battle-sleep.

But why now? he silently begged of the Goddess. Why now, when so little time remains? The sweetness of this moment only makes the coming end all the more bitter. Arashu, Kalahira, why do You torment me so?

But no answer was forthcoming, no sign, no divine revelation. The Gods had abandoned him to his terror and his shame. His eyes burned as tears threatened once more.

Shepard stirred in his arms, and he realized he'd been clutching her too tightly. "Thane?" she murmured, a hint of worry in her voice.

The sound of her whispering his name warmed him even through the chill of his despair. Loosening his desperate grip, he murmured back, "Yes, siha?"

She propped herself up on her elbow and gazed down at him. Oh, but she was beautiful, even in her alienness. Thane lightly traced the curve of one smooth shoulder with his fingertips as those piercing green eyes stared into his very soul, reading the innermost thoughts of his heart. "You're not alone," she said, softly but firmly. A guttural undertone betrayed the place of aching earnestness from which she spoke. "I hope you know that. I will never, ever abandon you."

And in that moment, truth dawned with a light so staggeringly bright and beautiful, Thane wondered how he could have missed it until now. This woman, whom he so affectionately called siha, was indeed an angel. Speaking with the voice of the Goddess Arashu, she was both message and messenger, the sign he'd been looking for, the very omen he'd sought. The answer to the agonized prayers of his darkest hours, sent by the Gods to bring some small measure of light to his final days.

He drew her back down and kissed her deeply, gratefully, breathing in the scent of her and allowing it to comfort him. "I do, siha," he uttered between kisses, and the word was filled with renewed meaning. "I do."

The tears that spilled forth this time were not of fear or shame, but of gratitude.

Perhaps the old hanar priest had been correct, that happiness was not in his destiny. But perhaps he could at least have some peace.