Greetings!

I know it has been a while since I have updated, and I want to thank everyone for the reviews, alerts and favorites! Along with this story, I have another ME project in the works. Once the semester is over I will be updating more frequently (aiming for twice a week at least).

Thanks for reading, and please review!

Lumi

The good doctor had called for her nearly seven days in a row, Shepard realized, though it was getting harder to keep track. She hoped that they would leave her alone this morning. Mentally preparing for her escape would command all her thoughts today, and she did not want to unconsciously betray anything to that brown-haired beast.

Unfortunately, at 0900 there was a knock on her door and Brick was there, his buddy Wall not too far behind. They all knew the drill – and she followed him to the room at the end of the hallway where her nemesis was waiting for her. Obviously they thought they were within reach of breaking her, relentlessly bludgeoning her with witless questions, searching for her shatterpoint.

"Shepard. Are you well today?" the woman asked, her voice void of inflection.

"Fine. And you?" Shepard sat in her low-backed chair, calm etched on her face.

The doctor eyed her quizzically, the lack of her usual snarkiness not lost on her. "I am well."

"You know, you never gave me a name. What am I supposed to call you?" she asked curiously.

"My name is irrelevant here, Shepard." The doctor looked down at her datapad, skimming through text.

"But how should I refer to you? You know, when you aren't here."

"I fail to imagine a situation where you have need of speaking about me."

"You never know. I suppose I could just say the doctor with the shit-colored hair, or with the nasty mole above her lip, or the woman with breath so bad she'd make a krogan wince." There it was. The doctor smiled momentarily, but her features returned to their stoic set in a flash.

"Feeling combative, I see."

"I have plenty more of them."

"Very well, Shepard. I will concede. I am Doctor Janice Metrovsky."

"No Earth accent. Are you from a colony world?" Shepard went on, not missing a beat.

"No, I grew up the Citadel," Metrovsky replied absently.

"Ah, a privileged child. And how was your home, when you last left it?"

"My home was destroyed, thanks to –" She then stopped, and cleared her throat. Shepard had won that round, but she knew she would pay dearly for that slip of information later.

"Proceed with your torture, Doctor Metrovsky." Shepard gestured the woman to move forward, assuming her casual posture and leaned forward with elbows on her knees. It was a defensive stance, and her shields were ready.

"Let us discuss another of your former companions, shall we?"

Shepard sighed. Who would it be this time? Perhaps Garrus Vakarian, her right-hand man, or maybe Liara T'soni, her closest friend, had found their way onto the doctor's list. They had seemed more interested in the aliens on her ship than anyone else. Shepard had always wondered what the other Alliance personnel said about her when they were debriefed. Was anyone else from her ship being treated the same way? She knew continuing this train of thought would only lead to madness, as she had tormented herself during the quiet hours of the night thinking about them, what had become of them.

If she really had saved them all, or if they had all died while she lived.

"Fine, whatever," she replied. She mimicked defeat in her voice, wondering what card the doctor would play next. Shepard watched her as she scanned through text on her datapad, and then looked up at her.

"Thane Krios."

The hum of the life support systems steadied her. What was she doing here? And why did she feel apprehensive? It seemed instinctual, after a mission, to come and talk to Thane. His deep, buzzing voice was soothing, and his words always offered reassurance.

"Shepard. Need something?" he asked, as he always did. She walked to the viewport and folded her hands behind her back.

"That certainly could have gone better." She was still reeling from Zaeed's contract mission, where they attempted to hunt down a mercenary that had betrayed him. "I've never met anyone so driven by revenge - so much so that they would destroy themselves for a change to get back at their enemies. Was his life's entire meaning is wrapped up in fulfilling this masochistic fantasy?"

"Vengence is different for each person. It can be a matter of honor, a requirement of social stigma. It can also come from pain, from powerful memories that never abate." Thane's subaqueous voice resonated calm and control throughout the room.

She considered his declaration amidst her own torrent of thoughts. Yes, she had wanted revenge, had dreamed about what she would do to the Batarian slavers that attacked Mindoir. But she had never acted on it, and never would. Sometimes it seemed nothing more than a past life, even someone else's tragedy that she'd watched in a news vid.

"Sometimes, it is loss," he continued. "And in losing everything, a man can lose himself, become someone different. Zaeed tells many stories of war, of battles. One may wonder what came before his days of glory and why he never speaks of anything but fighting." She turned to look at Thane who was now standing next to her, gazing out into the void of space.

"Have you never dreamed of revenge, Shepard?"

"I think everyone has at some point, no matter how trivial the reason." Practical jokes between recruits, stolen rations, insults…the list was endless.

"Consider the protection of others. If your retaliation against someone who wronged you could keep them from repeating those crimes towards others, would you pursue them?"

"Well yes, protecting people is what I do." She had a feeling there was more beyond the surface of the question.

"Would your heart be free of revenge?"

"I…" And she wondered, if she could see those slavers again, what would she do in the guise of stopping them from hurting others? The faces of her neighbors, friends and family on Mindoir were a blur of fear, distress, terror; that was the chilling final memory of them which would remain with her forever. Even though she knew it would not bring them back, she could imagine herself taking her sweet time to finish off those batarian assholes, and the thought of it brought her immeasurable pleasure. Her biotic senses twitched, ached for action, and she felt the arc of unguarded energy threaten to release itself without her command.

"No." She was honest; she knew she could not judge anyone else for wanting something she had always been denied. There was a lingering silence between them now, and the hum in the background grounded her once again.

Or was that Thane's breathing?

After they had rescued Kolyat, Thane's son, Shepard recalled their conversation. He had lost his wife and child, had hunted down those who killed her, and abandoned his only son in an effort to protect him. How would she have dealt with such a loss? Could she judge him for it?

No, she had nothing but compassion for him.

Thane.

Shepard leaned forward, coming out of the fading memory. Her eyes were shroud in shadows, her features heavy and disparaged. She could not even bring herself to disguise her reaction. Her mask had slipped – and they had uncovered a weakness.

"He is…dead."