Sorry for the long wait... I had no idea when I posted the first chapter that it would be this long before I had time to write again. Blame work and Skyrim. I'm still not sure exactly where this is going, but I'm having fun getting there :)
Thane had been dead for years. The moment he lost Irikah, every part of him that loved her ceased to exist. What remained was the corporeal shell owned by his employers, an emotionless husk whose only purpose was to kill on command. Bringing vengeance to his wife's murderers brought him no satisfaction: their blood did nothing to fill the immense void where once he had a soul. Life was meaningless, each day no different from the last. The ghost of his former self surfaced only in his dreams: memories of her were too painful for his waking mind to bear.
He continued his assassin's work with the merciless precision of an automaton, for he knew no other life. Cloaked in shadow, he was largely ignored and immediately forgotten. His mission tonight was nothing out of the ordinary: find his mark, make the kill, slip away unseen. When Shepard leaned in to warn him off, her breath warm and invasive on his cheek, it was as though she'd reached into his grave and ripped him screaming from the earth.
In an instant, the life he'd endured as a burden and a curse was in peril. An exposed assassin didn't live long: Shepard's silence was the only way to ensure his safety. To his great surprise, he did not want to accept defeat and die in peace. Thane felt an overwhelming urge to survive: his mind whirred at a frantic pace, weighing methods to neutralize her quickly and escape unscathed. He recognized Shepard from the news vids; her fearsome reputation belied her youthful appearance. She guarded her companions with the protective air of a lioness, her darting eyes missing nothing. Such strange company she kept, some as dangerous as she, if not as watchful.
Thane bade his time, hoping Shepard would separate from her pack, or at the very least dull her senses with alcohol. He watched from the darkness as her soft lips closed time and time again on the rim of her glass, pretending to drink but ingesting nothing. He watched her companions coolly dispatch his mark, once the amphetamines he'd slipped into the krogans' shared pitcher brought their tempers to fever pitch. The quarian was laughing about the incident before the krogans' corpses had been cleared from the ground. He watched her smile and converse, gregarious but ever vigilant. He watched her dance, lithe and graceful, and caught himself holding his breath as her hips rocked to the wordless beat. She was beautiful, and though he willed himself to see her as yet another meaningless target, memories of her had already begun to imprint on his mind.
At last his chance arose, when a generous group of bystanders separated her from her friends on the dance floor. She whirled to face him when he grasped her wrist, staring him down with a knowing gaze. Her pulse quickened but she showed no fear, mouth curling in a sardonic smile.
"You're not really going to do this in here, are you? There's no way you'll make it out alive." Shepard's brazenness disarmed him: Thane felt naked, but did his best to maintain his composure.
"Very well. Leave quietly, and none of your companions will be harmed." She sized him up, seeming to trust his offer. Of course, he'd have killed them all without a moment's hesitation, but Thane doubted he'd be able to take on so many foes at once. He had to get her alone, unprotected.
"Give me a minute. If I don't say goodbye, they'll think something's wrong."
"If you inform them of danger, I will do what I must." He let his overcoat part to flash the pistol concealed beneath it, then disappeared into the crowd.
"Tali, I'm feeling tired. Do you mind if I head back to the ship early?" Shepard asked, discreetly texting the quarian with her omni-tool at the same time. The drell is an assassin. I need to take care of him.
"Sure, Shepard, whatever you like." I know, came Tali's reply, I'll try not to be too offended you'd rather be kicking his sorry ass than dancing with me.
"Will I see you again before you leave?" It's not like I'm going to enjoy this, Tali. I don't want anyone to get hurt.
"Probably not, but I'll keep in touch." You're an adrenaline junkie. I get it. Now go away so I can try to set up Kaiden with Liara.
"Really?"
"Definitely." Jealous, commander?
Not knowing what to say, she hugged the quarian and said goodbye. One final message appeared on her omni-tool as she made her way to the exit. Have fun, Shepard. Call for backup if you need me.
No longer the damsel in distress, Tali was offering to watch her back, to rescue her in turn. Any of the others wouldn't hesitate to do the same, but she saw no point in raising unnecessary alarm. The assassin kept his word, and didn't try to take her out while she was saying her goodbyes. That meant he had some shred of thieves' honour, at least. Maybe for once she could use diplomacy to resolve the situation. She'd hate to have to kill him, she thought, much as she relished the prospect of a good fight. He had such lovely eyes.
She found the drell, or rather he seemed to appear next to her, as she left the bar and rounded the corner into an alleyway. In an instant his arm was around her waist, his hand snaking up inside her jacket to pat her ribs and shoulder blades, sliding down to caress her hips. To passersby his weapons check would look like an affectionate caress, raising no alarms at this late hour.
"The last man to try that lost an arm," she said sweetly. Undeterred, his fingertips grazed her thigh, deftly removing the blade she'd tucked into the top of her boot. Feigning modesty, she gasped, using the distraction to jam his pistol's firing mechanism with a tiny pulse of biotic energy.
"You are unarmed, yet you do not fear me," he said, arm still around her waist, standing dangerously close. The pungency of his oiled leathers mingled with a softer, muskier scent.
"Look, we don't have to do this. I've spilled enough blood lately. Just walk away and I'll let you go."
"I am truly sorry. Find peace in Kalihira's embrace."
The muzzle of his weapon abutted her ribcage, pointing straight at her heart. She stared him down, unafraid, wondering what sort of assassin went about his work with such sorrow. To Thane, her indignant gaze was all too similar to Irikah's, and for the second time in his life he was unable to pull the trigger. Memories flooded in faster than he could will them away: love, pain, joy, emptiness, and the crushing weight of insufferable guilt.
Shepard's fingers wrapped around his own, clasping his hand. For a fleeting moment, Thane was trapped between vivid memory and tactile reality: Shepard and Irikah merged into one being, the shock of her skin on his so intense as to be unbearable. He stared into her eyes, savoring every detail for later reminiscence. Her tight grip became painful, and as she wrested the pistol from his grasp the spell was broken. Deeper instincts took over, the will to survive overriding his uninvited nostalgia. He was Thane the assassin once again, Thane the soulless killer, and he refused to let this woman end his life.
Faster than she could react, he threw his weight against her, slamming her body against the alley's smooth wall. Shepard grunted, her arm swinging up in a vicious hook to pistol-whip him in return. He'd expected to knock the wind out of her, maybe even render her unconscious: instead his ears rang furiously and blood filled his mouth. She was more dangerous than he'd anticipated. Thane dove to one side barely in time to escape a blast of biotic energy. He rolled to a crouch, letting loose a forceful push of his own. The ground shook and walls buckled, but she dodged his attack with practiced ease. Any resemblance she might have borne to Irikah vanished when he saw the predatory grin on her sensuous lips.
Shepard sent one more floor-rattling blast in his direction, sprinting away as he scrambled to safety. He ran after her, tearing through Ilium's winding maze of corridors, figuring she'd head for the protection of her ship or her companions. Instead, she seemed to be drawing him away from the city's heart. Even in high-heeled boots, she moved quickly: he pumped his legs as hard as he could to catch her, but each time she came within range of his biotic attacks, she rushed forward in a blur of blue energy. She was teasing him, taunting him, daring him to chase her. But to what end? Her only hope for survival was to evade him or outnumber him: her maneuvers accomplished neither.
Shepard ducked into a warehouse, a bland behemoth he knew housed a Blue Suns smuggling operation. She was either in league with criminals, or she'd just made a grave mistake. Cautiously, he slipped in after her, lurking in the shadows to avoid detection. A knot formed deep in his gut: the place was crawling with drones and mechs, and Shepard was nowhere to be seen. He had no choice but to hunt her down, and hope she hadn't found an unmarked exit. Moving silently from crate to crate, he began to systematically search every nook and hiding space, straining to catch sight or scent of her. He was on edge, using his considerable faculties to evade the watchful gaze of the warehouse's mechanical protectors.
At last his efforts were rewarded: scrawled in lipstick on the side of a shipping crate were the words "THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU," and an arrow. Angered by the message and wary of the trap she might have laid for him, Thane crept between stacks of crates to find a second message. "YOU DIDN'T PULL THE TRIGGER WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE," it said. Blood boiling from her apparent threats, he threw his gaze around the dimly lit warehouse, looking for any sign of Shepard. He found her immediately, sitting in a pool of light, waving at him from atop a ledge directly behind a YMIR mech.
Little did she know what the Blue Suns were smuggling. Gaining access took him mere seconds, but instead of the weaponry he'd expected, the crate was full of red sand. Even better, perhaps. He slipped out of sight, picking locks until he was rewarded with a fresh shipment of assault rifles. His plan was more chaotic than his usual calculated approach, but a good assassin must be able to adapt to trying circumstances. Shepard was undoubtedly a trying circumstance. Whatever her bizarre strategy was supposed to accomplish, he would defeat her. He took a deep breath, popped out from cover, and sprayed bullets in every direction, puffs of red sand spraying out from punctured crates. Every drone and mech in the warehouse powered up at once, searching for prey. With a skill engrained since childhood, Thane melted into the shadows, and disappeared.
The drell could have shot her but he didn't; he had no way of knowing she'd jammed his pistol. The way he looked at her, like she was a woman and not some Alliance killing machine, was uncomfortable and electrifying all at once. She could have fought him to the death in the alley, but decided to give him a second chance. And now her soft spot for dark and mysterious men just might be the death of her.
She let him chase her through the alleyways, tiring him out, leading him to a Blue Suns warehouse that she knew would be heavily guarded. The drell was a formidable opponent, but no match for several dozen mechs armed to the teeth. She hoped the threat of detection would be enough to make him willing to talk to her rather than attacking on sight. Things were definitely not going according to plan: the assassin was armed, red sand hung thick in the air, and every mech in the warehouse had its sights set on her.
Choking on a plume of red sand, Shepard barely had time to dive for cover as a missile flew past, exploding in a fiery burst of shrapnel. She wished Tali were here: the quarian could override the mechs and use them to her advantage. Shepard was too stubborn to call for help, lashing out with an earth-trembling biotic attack that sent her mechanical assailants toppling to the ground. She'd pay the price later, but for now the red sand amplified her raw destructive power. From the corner of her eye, she spied an instrument panel on the far wall. A light switch, from the looks of it. She dove towards it, switching the warehouse from auxiliary lighting to full brilliance, making herself more visible but ensuring the drell had nowhere to hide. He made this mess, now let him fix it.
Her efforts were answered with a wave of biotic energy, drawing her up into the air in a tangled mass of drones and mechs, caught in an unsteady orbit around the center of the room. Robots exploded as the drell's assault rifle tore through enemies all around her. She took out as many as she could with her stolen pistol, twisting to fall with catlike grace when the artificial gravity wore off. Shepard fired off attack after vicious attack, each more powerful than the last, feeling exhilarated.
With supercharged biotic powers, Thane and Shepard decimated the warehouse's guards as though toppling toy soldiers. Alone amid the rubble of broken crates and twisted metal, they faced one another across the wreckage. Fatigue had started to creep in, but the effects of red sand made them oblivious. Thane lunged first, propelling himself through the void, pouring all his strength into a single, vicious attack. Shepard countered, mounting a force equal to his, pushing him back with biotics of her own. Feeling invincible, each struggled to overtake the other, fighting from the depths of their being, screaming in defiant resistance.
As any duct rat knows, the high of red sand is inevitably followed by a deep, profound crash. Unable to gain the upper hand, they spent the last of their energy in a fiery blue blaze. Thane and Shepard gasped for air, exhausted and barely able to stand.
"Remind me again why you're trying to kill me," Shepard said, breathless.
"You know who I am. If my identity is made public, I will not live long."
"I don't even know your name!"
"Thane Krios," he said, moving closer.
"Right. Thanks. You're not a very good assassin, Thane Krios. I'm still alive. My name is…"
"Shepard. The role of victim does not suit you." She looked at him quizzically; he took her hand and kissed her lightly on her bleeding knuckles.
"Why do you do it, Thane? You don't seem like a cold-blooded killer to me."
"One day I will tell you, but we must not remain here. Reinforcements will come."
"That's it, then? I'm still a soldier. Give me one reason I shouldn't turn you in."
Thane looked at her, and for the first time in years he smiled. Shepard was beautiful and deadly, a fierce protector of her companions, a hunter to rival Arashu herself. He laced his webbed fingers into the silk of her hair, brushing tangled strands away from her face, wrapping his other arm around her waist to pull her against him. Still flushed from battle, her skin felt like fire on his. It wasn't his choice to kiss her: every fibre of his being demanded it. Her lips parted to his; his tongue grazed sharp teeth as it entered her mouth, promising more. Thane lingered as long as he dared, filling his memory with her scent and her flesh and her unbearably soft lips. At last he pulled away, vanishing into the last shred of night before she could open her eyes.