A/N 1 Just a short note on migraines before I continue – The technique that Thane used in my last chapter was something I've had my husband do for me for years. First off, my migraines are the ones that feel like someone is poking me in the eye with a red hot spike that goes all the way through my skull to exit out the back of my head down close to my neck. There's usually light sensitivity and nausea, too (Yeah! Go Team Migraine!). I am a lifelong sufferer of migraines and when I get one and it's really bad, after all the crazy medicines that I take, I have him massage my temples. Sometimes I get him to put his hands on either side of my head and squeeze like he's going to pop it. This seems to help for some unknown reason, as long as he stands there. Anyway, just wanted to clarify on the whole different approach to the migraine cure thing… And now, a big thank you to God for Imatrex and Fioranol…
A/N 2 Sorry for the long delay between updates. Bad. Bad. Writers. Cramp. New Xbox 360 and new games (Fable 2 and 3, Call of Duty black Ops), um… Holiday parties…? I'll try to do better… And, a big thank you to everyone who has added my story to your list of favorites and story alerts. Your continued support and reviews are why I write. Now, on with the circus that lives inside my head…
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It had been a long, hard fought mission, but Shepard recruited the Justicar, an Asari Warrrior named Samara… As if there was ever any question she would not succeed. Samara would meet them on the Normandy later.
On the way back to the ship Thane sat in the back of the taxi and stared a hole in the back of the turian's head. He was in a black mood, strange sensations twisting and churning through his gut... The whole damn day had been crazy, so different from his usually well ordered, structured way of life.
Waking up with Shepard in his bed that morning had totally thrown him. This… this, whatever it was, it wasn't what he'd planned on. It wasn't the peace and acceptance he'd prayed for, meditated on. Till now, sitting here thinking of ways to get rid of the turian, he couldn't ever remember being so… disoriented? confused? outside himself, so unlike himself… so disconnected… Well, maybe not since Irikah death…
Shepard had been a consummate professional throughout the entire mission. In charge, in command, in control. However, and here was what was so confusing and had him wondering if perhaps somehow his illness had compromised his ability to think clearly, objectively. Shepard and "Gaaaarus", as she liked to call the big turian, worked together as if they had been born doing it. Instinctive and so familiar with each other's moves, they seemed to move as one. And it annoyed the fuck out of him. ARGH! What was wrong with him?
They were so comfortable with each other they almost seemed oblivious to him, although the Commander certainly made it a point to include him in all discussions concerning their mission.
It shouldn't have mattered what they did, or how they seemed closer than just squad mates. He shouldn't have cared that the turian clearly adored her and that Shepard clearly reciprocated those feelings. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did. He shouldn't have cared, but he did. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. He shouldn't want to put a slug through the turian's head… but he did.
In the front seat, the Commander was currently trying to take the heads up display off the turian's head. He was trying to drive and stop her. As soon as he'd synced the unit up to the taxi's sound system and begun playing some music he liked, Shepard had begun trying to take the unit from his head.
"Garrus, I told you listening to that damn shit will rot your brain. Give me that," she said, long alien fingers already reaching up to the device.
Jerking his head to the side and out of her reach, he growled, "Since I'm driving, I control the music."
"That's only because you refuse to let me drive," she replied, now attempting to climb out of her seat in a determined move to acquire the turian's head piece.
"That's because you're the worst driver I've ever been trapped in a moving vehicle with," he replied, now driving with one hand, the other grabbing her face and trying to push her back into her seat.
"Shit Garrus, you're such a pussy. So I drove off a few cliffs," she mumbled from beneath his hand still on her face. She was trying to pry his gloved talons off, but not having much success.
"Drove off a few cliffs?" he laughed and began to slow down for approach to the taxi bay at the ships docking station. "Drove off cliffs, rolled us down the side of a mountain, almost backed into lava… Shall I go on?" He finally let go of her face and parked the taxi. They were all a little slower climbing out than they had been climbing in that morning.
"Like I said. Pussy," Shepard replied, taking a moment to lean up against the taxi.
Thane started around the taxi toward her, but stopped when the turian spoke.
"Shepard?" the turian asked, already making his way around to where she stood, the concern clearly evident in his voice. "You OK?"
"Just a little tired. Think you can help me to the elevator?" she asked tiredly, eyes closed and her head falling forward.
"Sure Shepard," the big turian replied, already wrapping an arm around her small waist.
Thane suddenly wanted to rip the turian's arm off. Totally irrational, totally unlike his normal "detach from it all, you don't have long in this world" outlook on life. He knew, KNEW for God's sake, that what he was feeling wasn't normal, wasn't rational. He knew it, but couldn't control it.
So caught up in his own personal fog of confusion, he startled when, watching in disbelief , Shepard suddenly reached up and grabbed the turian's heads up display. Cackling wildly, she ran for the Normandy, the display grasp firmly in her hand.
"Sucker!" she yelled as she disappeared into the ship.
"I can't believe I fell for that," Garrus deadpanned, turning to look in his direction before grabbing his and Shepard's gear from the taxi.
"The Commander obviously seems to disapprove of your choice of driving music," he replied as calmly as if he wasn't wishing the turian would just drop dead.
"Shepard has very definite ideas about what constitutes 'good music'," the turian replied, beginning to walk toward the Normandy.
Falling in beside him, Thane asked, "If she is the Commander and you know this, then why cause discord with your choice?"
"Because it irritates her," he simply replied. Garrus continued looking ahead to the Normandy, but he could sense the disapproval emanating from the drell. No, disapproval wasn't the right word. The drell seemed… angry, pissed, jealous? Was that the right human emotion? Did the assassin see him as competition for Shepard? He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Of course the drell didn't know he already knew about Shepard's adventures on the Citadel with a certain assassin…
"I fail to see where causing Commander Shepard undue annoyance is of value given the current mission we are on."
"The Commander has a lot on her shoulders. If she's irritated, then she's got something else to focus on besides this damn impossible mission, if only for a little while," Garrus replied, finally reaching the air lock.
"I would think that focusing on the mission would be of prime importance for its success. Distractions would seem to be counterproductive to achieving the intended goal."
The turian stopped and looked at him, seeming to come to a decision before he spoke.
"Shepard will get this done, one way or another. She will find a way through the Omega-4 Relay. She will take the fight directly to the collectors. That doesn't mean she's not vulnerable to second guessing herself, worrying about all of us as if we are her family, knowing that she's leading some of us to a place we may not return from."
Garrus paused, considering his next words carefully. "She knows, better than any of us, what we're up against, what will happen if we fail. It weights on her, consumes her from the inside out. I was with her when she took down Saren and killed a Reaper. I know a little of the demons that prowls the halls of her mind, seeking moments of weakness to attack. So yeah, if I can do anything to keep them from dragging her down into a pit of despair, I will, however small or silly it seems at the time."
"Your concern for Shepard is clear, as is the close bond you share," Thane said finally, regarding Garrus with a look of resignation, an odd burning sensation in his chest. Clearly Shepard had chosen the turian long ago. He had been just a one time, no make two time, quick fuck.
"Shepard and I do share a bond, a bond that comes from going to hell and back together, of always being there for each other…" Garrus offered matter-of-factly. He pushed the ship's air lock control then paused to look back over his shoulder at the drell. "But I'm not the one she smells like…" He couldn't keep a twinkle out of his eyes as he stepped smartly through into the ships interior leaving the assassin with an altogether confused and stunned look on his face.
~o~o~o~o~o~
After the mission debrief and medical scans, Shepard had request that he meet with her in the ship's dining facility around 1900 hours. He'd had time to shower and meditate, not that meditating did him any good it seemed. He'd prayed, meditated, and asked forgiveness from the gods the previous day. And what good had it done him? His body had betrayed him, his gods had abandoned him, and he'd wound up in bed with Shepard, again, wanting things he had no right wanting, again.
The turian's answer still puzzled him. If she and Garrus weren't together, then what were they? And what the hell did he mean by 'But I'm not the one she smells like…'? His mind was a mess as he made his way out of his quarters.
The area was empty save her. Hadn't she been the one to suggest they talk here since there would be lots of people around? Maybe they were hiding under the table, or in the cabinets, or oh hell, he was babbling, to himself, inside his own head… Just fucking great.
She was seated at one of the smaller dining tables, head bent over one of several datapads scattered around her, a glass of what looked like earth whiskey clutched in her hand. He took a seat directly opposite her and waited for her to speak.
Not even looking up she said, "Have you seen Mordin yet?"
"I have not had the time since we last talked, Commander."
"Go see him when we're done here."
"Is there anything else, Commander?"
Finally looking up, she said, "You're the one that wanted to talk this morning. So… talk." She took a long drink, downing the remaining amber liquid in one swallow. She knew what was coming. Hopefully he'd get it over with and go back to his room. She'd go back to hers and…
"Are you and turian together?" he asked, wondering why his mouth had decided to speak before his brain told it what to say. That one question had been burning inside him, even through his prayers and meditation, even on the short trip here from his quarters.
"No, though I fail to see where it's any of your business."
"Ah. So I shouldn't read too much into the fact that you called my name when you came on my cock last night."
"Crudely put, but yes, that's about it. Don't take it personal Krios. I enjoyed out time together, but it was a mistake on my part. Blame it on me if it makes you feel any better."
"Then it is good to know we both agree that it was a mistake that we shouldn't make again. If we are done, I will see Prof. Solus."
"As long as we understand each other."
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There was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight. No amount of alcohol or pills was going to shut up her mind. Too many unnamed emotions crawled over her skin and through her head. 'good to know we both agree that it was a mistake that we shouldn't make again' God! What was wrong with her? She hadn't felt this shitty even after Kaiden crapped all over her on Horizon, no pun intended. It had been a mistake, hadn't it? She was supposed to be saving the galaxy. That's what she had to focus on, what she had care about right now, wasn't it?
Cerberus had wanted the original Commander Shepard, the woman who had defeated a Reaper, the first human Specter. But that woman had died… and every day it got harder and harder to give a damn… about anything... about anyone… except of course Garrus, and now…
FUCK! She threw a hard right uppercut into the dummy's midsection followed quickly by a jabbing left. In nothing but her training shorts and a sports bra, hands taped like a pro fighters, she threw punches over and over again, sometimes following with powerful knee strikes and a few roundhouse kicks. Bare feet danced over the cold mats on the cargo bay floor. Just fight till you're to numb to feel…
Damn straight it was a mistake. Shit, she was a mistake. Isn't that what her mother had told her over and over again? It seemed like she'd heard it every day of her first six years, right up until the time her mother had taken her to school and never came back to pick her up.
In and out of foster homes for the next eight years, she'd dropped out of school and run away when her last foster "father" decided to have a little fun with her. She hadn't understood at first. It had started out as just touching, but soon escalated to full blown rape. For several weeks after she turned fourteen, he'd raped her in the afternoons, after school, before her foster mother got home from work, telling her that if she said anything or told anyone, he'd either kill her or he'd hurt one of the other children in the home. And besides, who'd believe her. She was no one, a mistake, just like all the other orphans in the system.
As the oldest there, she'd taken it on herself to look out for them, to care about them, to protect them. Wondering what she'd ever done to deserve this kind of living hell, she'd finally worked up the courage to tell her foster mother, expecting her to do the right thing and turn the man in. Wasn't that the right thing to do? Shouldn't the woman have protected her? She'd been a scared fourteen year old child…. The woman had slapped her and accused her of leading her husband on, calling her a whore, calling child services to pick up 'the lying little slut'. That's when she'd learned not to trust anyone….
She'd run when the man came in the room and told his wife to let him take care of it. As the husband and father, it was his duty to discipline the children. Lying would not be tolerated, and then his belt had come off and the pain had started… "That was a big mistake you just made," he'd sneered, the belt swinging through the air to catch her across the shoulders…
It was fuzzy… she really didn't remember exactly what happened after that. Her foster mother had been screaming, somehow her foster father had been thrown out through a second story window, and she'd run, just run... A few days later she found herself holed up in an abandoned building in Tucson Arizona. She never really knew how she got there. What she did know was that every news outlet in the country was covering the story of the 'wonderful foster family, torn apart by an out of control foster daughter who had turned on the man for no reason, apparently using biotics to hurl him out of a second story window to his death.' The authorities had offered a reward for any information leading to the arrest of the suspect… They'd posted her picture all over the place…
That asshole had deserved to die…
After that she lived on the streets, keeping in the shadows, always keeping out of sight of the authorities. It had been easy to cut her hair, and color it black. With no papers, she'd begun calling herself Tucson, Tucson Shepard. Tucson for the city, Shepard for the name of the street the abandoned building had been on.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, her body had developed early, and it had been easy to get a job in the clubs, first waitressing and later, stripping. Survive, at all cost. That had become her motto. Fristo's Dance Club and Bar, that's where she'd caught the eye of Big Mike, the leader of the Tenth Street Reds, a gang that was branching out into the smaller cities of the southwest. She'd been sixteen then…
For two years she'd fought with them, helped them run red sand, helped them spread their anti-alien agenda, helped then dabble in human slave trade. They'd become the family she never had and she'd done everything in her power to make sure they were the number one gang in the city.
But, somewhere along the way she'd lost her soul... That had never been so apparent as the day the gang attacked a visiting group of alien tourist, killing everyone, even the children. Since joining, she'd turned a blind eye to some of the gang's more evil deeds. Life was a piss hole and you either learned to swim with the sharks or you sank to the bottom to be swallowed up and never seen again. But killing children? Was that who she was? Was that really who she wanted to be? Did she even have a soul anymore?
Two days later she'd been on an Alliance base enlisting in the Marines…
How long she spared with the dummy she didn't know. Shoulders aching, lungs burning, and newly mended ribs now screaming from over use, she was bent over, eyes closed against the sweat that trickled down her forehead, hands braced on her thighs when she finally registered that there was someone else in the training area of the cargo hold.
"Unless you're here to fight, get the hell out."
Clothing rustled behind her and she turned to see the assassin stripping out of a black skintight t-shirt, which he neatly folded and placed on a nearby crate. Barefoot and wearing only a pair of dark grey sweat pants that rode low on his lean hips, he silently advanced towards her on the training mat. Graceful, sinuous flow of muscle, he advanced until he was mere inches from her, eyes locked on hers, brows knitted together in concentration, confrontation about to happen.
Oh my fucking God, she could remember licking every one of the scales on his chest, could remember running her hands over the well defined muscles of his abs and stomach. And she remembered how alive she'd felt with him, how she'd wanted something… felt something more that she'd ever had before, even knowing that it could never be.
It had been a mistake, and it made her angry that her life was so fucked up… angry at herself for allowing him to mean anything to her, angry at him for agreeing that it was a mistake…
Oh for fucks sake, she was now officially insane… pissed off - stay out of her way – beginning to tremble with rage, insane.
Before she even knew what she was doing, she let loose with a biotic throw that sent the assassin hurtling across the cargo hold to slam against the wall. He recovered quickly and before she could even react, she felt herself thrown to the ground, the drell already on top of her, pinning her to the cold floor mat.
"It's a 'mistake'," he said, his tongue biting out the word, "to assume your target won't be able to immediately respond."
"And it's a 'mistake'," she hissed through clenched teeth, "not to go for the kill when you have the chance." Showing with all her might she threw him off of her and immediately attacked.
For the next half an hour they fought, throwing each other all over the cargo area, vicious punches, bone crunching kicks, biotic attacks lighting up the area with blue fire, neither one giving an inch. Shepard let the anger carry her, the dark energy of her inner turmoil fueling the fire that kept her going. Punch, kick, throw… over and over her body responded until there was nothing inside left to burn…
She was so tired, but there was no way in hell she was going to surrender. She'd managed to throw the drell across the room again, but when she looked, he wasn't there. Looking around the cargo area she failed to see the shadow beside her until it was too late. A quick sweep of a leg and she went down hard on her back, head bouncing on the matted floor. Quickly, Thane straddled her hips and pinned her arms above her head.
Bending slowly forward until they were practically nose to nose, both breathing hard, both covered in sweat, both trembling, he finally managed to say, "We. Were. Not. A. Mis. Take."
After he'd seen Mordin, he'd gone back to his quarters to pray. He'd been, as always, seeking atonement, forgiveness for the weaknesses of his body and soul. He wasn't 'Whole', hadn't been since Irikah's murder. But here, with Shepard, he felt more alive than ever before. Whatever this was, he was powerless against its pull...
"Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me," she finally managed to say, each breath a struggle, Thane's muscular body pressing her hard into the floor. What the hell did he mean? Of course they'd been a mistake, hadn't they? Well, it he was such a mistake, then why did you get all freaky when you found him on Illum? Why can't you get him out of your mind? It was like he'd crawled inside her skin, already become a part of her…
"Our meeting was not a mistake. We were not a mistake. Whatever this is, whatever we are, I can't get you out of my head, Shepard. I haven't been able to since the day I met you," he finally replied. Rolling off her to lie on the matted floor, he continued, "If you really believe this was a mistake, then just walk away and I'll respect your wish - "
He gasped when she rolled on top of him and settled her legs around his hips, quickly pinning his arms above his head, her breasts pressed hard and firm against his chest. Peach colored lips ghosted above his, her eyes intense, never leaving his as their breaths mingling into one. "Since I met you, I haven't been able to think… about anything except you. When you're near, I feel.."
What? Whole? Complete? When she was near, he felt whole…or as least as close as he'd come in many, many years. This was crazy. This was madness. This was what it felt to be alive again after so many years asleep…
"I… feel... and that scares me." She finally released his hands and started to roll off of him only to be stopped by strong arms clasping her firmly to him.
"So tell me again why this is a mistake," he murmured against her lips. Sliding his hands lower he cupper his ass and pulled her tighter against his hips.
"You make me feel…"
"What? I make you feel what?"
"Alive. You make me feel alive." And for the first time since she'd awoke from the dead, she truly felt like living, and it scared the holy hell out of her. Life was so much easier when you were dead inside…
"What now?" he asked, still clasping her tight to himself.
"I don't know, I'm too tired to think. In fact, I don't want to think. I can't think when you're holding me like this…"
Thane rolled them gently to the side and moved to stand up. He reached for her hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. For one moment he let his free hand tangle in her hair and pulled her close for a tender kiss before releasing her and retrieving his shirt from the crate he'd place it on.
Neither one spoke on the elevator ride up. Exiting on the Crew Deck, Thane cupped her cheek with his hand and said, "May the Gods grant you peaceful rest, Commander." Leaning back against the cool metal, she watched him cross the hallway to Life Support and enter. Her cheek still tingled and the elevator smelled of him. She could still taste him on her lips, could still feel the press of his body against hers…
When the elevator stopped at her quarters, she just stood there for several minutes. Pushing away from the back wall she started to exit, but suddenly changed her mind and punched the button for the crew deck. Before she could think about her actions, she crossed the hallway and entered Life Support. The only illumination was the gentle blue of the drive core, but she could clearly see Thane's dark eyes regarding her from where he was already stretched out on the narrow bed. Surprise, curiosity, and apprehension crossed his features as she came toward him. Lifting the light cover, she crawled in beside him and snuggled down next to him. Warm arms enveloped her as she rested her head on his shoulder and entwined her legs with his. A five fingered hand pressed against the beautiful scale covered skin over his heart, she closed her eyes and sighed.
So, this was what it felt like to be alive again…