If you read this part on the k meme, it has been edited a bit and might be worth a readover. Much more coherent in places now and the word count went up almost 200 extra.


THANE!

Her voice cracked and wailed. Her feet gave chase.

She wouldn't catch him. She couldn't. She never could.

Shepard knew it was a dream, but it had a hold on her. She could never manipulate it nor wake herself, only run across the same desert endlessly chasing her lost lover night after night. Except for the nights she found herself in the forest chasing the little boy from Earth and haunted by the tormented whispers of those she couldn't save, this was where she spent her sleep.

Burning sun above, boiling sand underneath bare feet. Every step was torture in more ways than one. No matter how fast she ran, he was always still ahead, always just out of reach. Her cries, wailing, and screams of sheer terror and utter agony at the hallucination around her always fell on deaf ears. Sleep was supposed to be for rest, but for her it was utter anguish, worse than the moments she spent awake facing the reality of it all. At least when her eyes were open she couldn't see him, the reminder of the hole in her chest dulled to an ache by the ability to put it to the back of her brain. Her subconscious seemed to enjoy tormenting her; taking full advantage of when she lacked defenses.

Something was different this time, though. She was gaining ground, and then she was nearly upon him. Her mind reeled, not knowing what to think.

He turned without warning and their eyes met.

Siha, why do you pursue me so? There is still much work left for you to accomplish. Your story is not yet over; the waves do not call for you yet.

She couldn't stop her momentum, even if she had wanted to try. Her arms opened but the collision she had desperately hoped for never came. She crashed into him, and his body turned to smoke in her arms. Thane disappeared into dancing tendrils of shadow and darkness, leaving her to tumble face first into the sand. Her skin seared as though she were in hell itself, causing a scream to rip through her throat.

And like that, it was over.

Shepard awoke crumpled on the floor of her cabin, the icy metal against her face a stark contrast to the previous sensation. She sat up and looked around; the bed had been completely ripped apart, sheets and blankets torn and flung askew, and one of her pillows had somehow even found its way up the stairs.

"What the fuck."

She curled against the side of her bed and massaged her temples fervently. That was a new one for her brain to throw at her; the dream was the same every night but the apparition of Thane had never faced her, much less ever spoken to her.

Shepard shook her head tersely.

No, not speaking to me. He's dead, gone for good. Just my screwed up mind showing its true colors.

Post-traumatic stress, or something. There had to be some sort of logical explanation; but even as that thought crossed her mind, what had happened still didn't sit right in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know how to shake it, but she knew the answer sure as hell wasn't going to be in this room. Too many memories lingered within its walls; precious stolen moments together that would never, could never be enjoyed again. She needed out of this god-forsaken place. Now.

Shepard retrieved her clothes quickly, but only the bare necessities. Her hoodie and a pair of pants were all she needed. This was her damn ship and it was the middle of the night, so most of the crew would be asleep; to hell with it if the ones who weren't saw her without shoes or a proper shirt. It was the end of days, so it seemed, and protocol was becoming less and less important by the minute. Who wanted to spend their final weeks worrying about being exactly proper? She had been becoming increasingly lax on such frivolities, entirely giving up the battle to adhere to military order after the loss of Thane. Being truly alone in the universe again had a way of putting things in perspective like that, especially when bearing the knowledge of the end truly being more final than popular belief would tell it to be.

She headed to the elevator and punched the selection for the crew deck a little harder than necessary. A full stomach might at least help take the edge off her exhaustion. Maybe I'll have to take up Garrus' offer to drink me under the table. Legion and the quarian admirals were still trying to locate the center server that was poisoning the geth consensus with Reaper code, and it was undoubtedly still going to be a while longer. She probably would have time for a hangover, and she really could use the drink right now.

The elevator stopped its languid descent and the doors opened to the view of the crew memorial wall opposite; the names of those who had been lost to the fight ever since the mission to Eden Prime that started it all just under three years ago. Shepard silently cursed whoever had chosen to put it in such a prime location that it was nearly impossible to avoid unless you blatantly ignored it. The names always stared at her and made her spine tingle when she was within sight of it. A comfort to some; a way of remembering for others.

For me… I guess it's now just fate's cruel way of shoving in my face just how many I failed to save.

Richard Jenkins. Kaidan Alenko. Charles Pressly, and the rest of the crew who had gone down with her and the original Normandy. The crew of the second Normandy the collectors had killed before they could arrive. Mordin Solus.

Thane Krios.

The ten letters that stung the worst of all.

She solemnly walked over and touched her fingers to their embossing; fingernails dragging over the white enamel set into the metal plaque. The only lasting mark the man she loved had made on this whole ship; according to Javik there were indeed other traces left behind as well, though he was the only one who could 'see' them. Her eyes started to water, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Goddamnit, this isn't why you came down here. You left your cabin to get away from this.

"Shepard-Commander."

Shepard jumped and whirled to face the geth who had appeared behind her, heart pounding. It's a couple hundred pound machine! How did I not hear it coming? Bullshit the geth do not intentionally infiltrate. "Legion!" She gasped. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were staying up in the war room to work on things with Tali?"

"Creator Zorah is on this deck in the crew's quarters. She sought to recharge so she could resume our workload at full processing capacity." Its eyebrow flaps twitched. "We assumed Shepard-Commander was also at rest."

"I…" Shepard's hands started to fidget, wringing and worrying at each other. "I haven't exactly been sleeping well. I just came down here to get something to eat… and to think about some things, I guess. Was there something you needed from me, Legion?"

Its eyebrow plates twitched up. Surprise maybe? She could never truthfully be sure what any of its movements meant, it was so very alien in build and how it showed expressions. "Affirmative. We cannot help but notice you observing the memorial wall. The drell assassin's name specifically." It gestured with an arm toward the object in question. "Your physical positioning suggests distress, Shepard-Commander. We wish to understand, and would inquire as to why."

Shepard stared him down… well… as much as you could stare down a flashlight-looking bulb, really. It made sense that some of the more withdrawn members of the crew wouldn't have picked up on her relationship with Thane; they hadn't exactly been public with their affections, preferring to leave such things mostly to privacy. "Thane…" She paused and bit her lip. "We were together. I had to watch him die at the hands of another assassin during Cerberus' attempted coup of the Citadel."

"You and the drell were involved in an amorous association."

She nodded in response.

"You, as organics would say, miss him…?"

Another short nod. "Yes, Legion."

"Death for an organic, we thought this was a simple process. Is there more to death? Extranet sources indicate there are both physical and emotional ties to living organics transitioning to a nonliving state." It continued to twitch during speech. Sometimes she thought its gestural patterns seemed almost human in their nature. "We do not comprehend, on an exact scale."

Shepard scratched her head. "It's… a bit complicated, I guess… This might be a long talk. Let's go sit in the mess." She stepped away from the cursed wall and the names staring down at her, gesturing for the geth to follow. She retrieved a few granola bars along with a bottle of water from the kitchen area, and took the seat opposite the one Legion had selected. "I do miss Thane, yes. Just because he died… it doesn't mean my feelings for him automatically disappear. Even you must remember things, even after they are destroyed; remember people after they're killed. Do you still remember Mordin, the salarian from the Collector mission? He was… lost... on Tuchanka; gave his life to cure the genophage. But you can still remember him, can't you?"

"We are able to, yes."

"I know you don't really have feelings… right? Not the same way organics do at least." She idly chewed on her lip for a moment. "I still love Thane as though he were alive. It's emotionally painful to me that he is no longer with us because of that love, but at the same time I can't just simply forget our relationship or our time together like you could delete an offending file from your data banks."

"We can understand this concept." Its head bobbed slightly and the eyebrow plates rose again. "We still have not formed consensus on another subject, however. When geth are destroyed, it is possible for another to be built to take its place. Could you not simply replace the organic with a... 'newborn?' What we mean to ask is... would you not enjoy the companionship of another drell organic just as you enjoyed that of the assassin?"

Shepard couldn't help but laugh somewhat bitterly at Legion's unintentional ignorance, but she couldn't blame him. It wasn't his fault. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to automatically fully understand the concept of the individual, should I?" She shook her head slightly and brought her face to rest in her hands, elbows on the table. "While it is not entirely impossible that could be true... I could find a 'replacement,' not just of a drell but of any species, in theory. It wouldn't be the same though, because no two organics are exactly alike. We are all shaped by not just our genetics... our 'programming' if you will... but also by the unique sequence of events that happen to us over our lives and influence us over that time. Even identical twins can become two entirely different people; exactly the same in appearance and genetics, but polar opposite in mannerism and personality. I do have the potential to fall in love again, Legion, but it would never be the same. Because no one will or could ever be the same as Thane."

A silence fell between them as Legion processed the information and Shepard pondered what she had really lost. Sometimes she still couldn't believe she would never see Thane again. Half of her mind thought that she could stroll right into life support and he'd be there, turning to smile at her and invite her to sit for conversation and tea once more. Just like old times, as Garrus always says.

"Shepard-Commander." Legion fidgeted in its seat under her gaze.

"Yes, Legion? Did you have more questions?" Shepard spoke with little emotion in her voice. She hadn't come down here to have a philosophical debate about the finer points of loss with a geth, but Legion was part of her crew and she couldn't deny it or the trust it had always shown her.

"We... were wishing to speak with you regarding the existential nature of organic beings." It was the second time Legion had used that word. Wish. Could synthetics really feel such a thing, or was it just the only word its processing capabilities could offer up to fill the blank in its speech?

Shepard leaned back in her chair, preparing for a possible long haul. "Go ahead, Legion. What is on the metaphorical mind of the consensus? Lay it on me, I'm ready for whatever you can think to throw at me."

"We know much about organic physiology and patterns in organic behavior. We would ask you to explain the concept of life." A pause and more fidgeting. Is it struggling to find words? Shepard laughed inwardly at the thought, even as it appeared to be exactly what was occurring in front of her. "We are... aware this is a broad question."

"On that you would be correct, Legion." She chuckled softly this time. "Did you have something a little more specific you wanted to ask about within that topic?"

"Affirmative; we do. We appreciate Shepard-Commander's willingness to cooperate with our inquiries. It is crucial, in part, to our effective functioning as both an operative and as a complete platform." Is Legion really expressing curiosity? Its head bobbed and all of its faceplates flared this time. "We have done much research on the extranet in relation to this subject. From our findings, it is possible to conclude that sentient beings possess a strong sense of personality. Many organics seem persuaded by religious establishments and beliefs to define this sense as a separate unit to the living form it in habits. Separate from the organic body. Do you recall the inquiry one of our own made that initiated the Morning War with our creators?"

Shepard bit her lip before she repeated the words Legion had told her shortly after joining the crew of the Normandy so many months ago. "'Does this unit have a soul?'"

"Does Shepard-Commander also support this concept of a 'soul'?"

"I… Honestly, I don't know, Legion." She struggled to find the words to say what she wanted to. If there is such a thing as a soul, then why would there be nowhere for it to go? Why was there nothing after I died but blackness? Why can't I remember anything if that wasn't all there was? "I want to tell you yes… but after the things that have happened to me… I don't think such a thing exists." She sighed.

"Your physical positioning again would indicate that you believe your previous statement to be false. Extranet sources indicate this as a show of an organic condition called denial."

Shepard stared the geth down again.

How…? I must still be shaken from the nightmare… from him… what he said. Maybe? No… well… maybe it wasn't just a dream? But… that's… that's crazy.

"I... Look, Legion. I don't have the definite answers you're looking for. I really wish I did. I want to believe in the existence of the soul, of there being more to things than just this life... the soul, heaven or an afterlife of sorts… I want to believe that more than anything... but after all the death and destruction I've not only seen but also experienced… I just can't give any guarantees in good conscience." She sighed and stood, holding its gaze. "I'm going to go back to my cabin now. I'm sorry I couldn't answer your questions, but it really was good to talk to you again. The Normandy has been far too quiet compared to when we traveled together. I don't just miss Thane; I miss all of you."

"We appreciated your assistance no less, Shepard-Commander." Legion replied with a slight nod, almost reverent in its execution. "We hope you rest harmoniously."

She smiled weakly, gathered her food and drink from the table, and turned her back on the geth, taking long strides toward the elevator. Legion remained seated at the table, and from her peripheral vision Shepard could tell that it was making no motion to follow. She made a right instead of a left at the corridor junction, ignoring the letters the bored a hole into the back of her head as she detoured to the lounge. That drunken stupor she had contemplated earlier was much more necessary now; Legion's inquiries had stirred up even more bad memories and abhorrent trains of thought than she had thought possible for her to pursue at a time.

The door whooshed open in front of her and she quickly navigated around the furniture to behind the bar, hastily dumping her previous non-intoxicating burdens to begin perusing the bottles that lined the shelves on the back wall. Dextro… dextro… tequila… vodka… dextro… ahh. Whiskey. That should to the job nice and quickly, and burn like hell in the process. She needed brain bleach, and this was exactly the kind of thing that would to the trick. Shepard leaned up on her toes to retrieve this night's choice weapon of inebriation. She pulled a tumbler from the cabinet in the bar, filling it with a couple cubes of ice, and then beelined for the exit to return to her cabin. The lounge was usually a destination for late night wakers, and she really couldn't handle any more socialization of any form tonight.

As she stepped through the doorway to exit, however, a soft mechanical hiss from her right caused her freeze in place. The sensors in the door to life support had caught her movement and so graciously opened the door for her. Of course fate would be the most ironic bastard tonight; as if she wasn't feeling bad enough already, it had to taunt her with that which she had lost even more.

With a small resigning sigh, Shepard turned to stare into the empty void of a room. It was much darker now than it had once been; some of the unnecessary lights had been removed during the Alliance retrofit. Being an unused and practically off-limits space as per her personal orders, EDI apparently saw fit to only run the emergency lights as well.

This is his room. It always will be. The light of his life is gone from mine, so I suppose it is only fitting that his space should be so shrouded in darkness, too.

She sighed again, resigning to the course of action she knew she couldn't not take. It was stupid… really goddamn stupid… but at this point, why bother resisting? Shepard allowed her feet to carry her over the threshold in front of her, pausing only to palm the door panel to a soft lock. This night wasn't going to end well, but she didn't even care anymore. She was beyond the capability of it at this point. The least she could do was leave it so EDI could unlock the door tomorrow when someone eventually figured out she was missing and where she was.

She stopped and stared at the space, so empty and lifeless now. His guns no longer lined the shelves on the wall, the window to the engineering core had been blacked out, and his cot was gone to who knows where, replaced by some indiscriminate supply boxes. The only things that remained from before were the table and chairs, and a single mug that Shepard had left on the table herself. She had come in with two cups of tea and sat in her old seat, staring at the chair where he should have been. That was before the Citadel, before their reunion; the Normandy and its crew still on their escape from Mars, their exodus from the Sol system. She had needed Thane's calming words in that moment, her hands in his again. He would have known exactly what to say to calm her fear and anger, to reassure her that Ashley would be okay. That his siha would be able to save Earth, that she could save the galaxy. That she'd done it twice before, and she could damn sure do it again. But at that point she'd just been freed from her incarceration by necessity; she hadn't even known if he was still alive, or if she'd ever have a chance to see him again as the galaxy started to crumble and everything was beginning to go to hell around her.

She sat in her chair again, setting the whiskey and tumbler almost methodically on the metal tabletop in front of her. The same scene as weeks before, the only difference this time was her choice of beverage.

That… and I know that I'm never going to see him again this time.

Shepard unscrewed the cap to the bottle and drizzled the amber liquid leisurely into the crystal glass; watching intently as it trail honey-colored tendrils over the ice. The hollow sound from cracks in the cubes that formed from the differing temperatures meeting brought her a vague and empty sense of enjoyment.

"Wonder if you'd still call me siha if you could see me now." She laughed a touch bitterly as she recapped the bottle and picked up the now full glass. She swirled its contents, watching the light glint and glitter off them as the ice as it moved; steeling herself in a sense for the utter stupor she was about to willingly inflict on herself, and the unpleasantness that would surely follow.

"Wish you were here, Thane. I really need you right now."

Somehow she was certain the hangover she'd have in the morning could never compare to the ache in her heart at that moment.

Bottoms up.