Mass Effect is the creative property of Bioware.
A/N: Well, good news everyone. I passed my thesis defense, and now I'm an MA. :D Thank you all for your patience while I got through the craziest month ever. I've got a big cross-country move coming next month, so I aim to finish up with this before then. Thanks for staying with me.
Twelve
The die had been cast. Tonight, they would pass through the Omega-4 Relay and, if fate allowed it, take the fight to the Collectors.
Although Shepard's focus on preparation had served them well so far, the abduction of the Normandy's crew had forced his hand. He had made it crystal clear, during the emergency meeting convened as soon as they returned to the ship, that the safety of their crew was his number one priority, and that the ship would be hitting the relay as soon as possible to chase the Collectors. Miranda had been the sole voice of dissent on the issue: although her labeling of the crew as 'acceptable losses' was technically correct in the scheme of things, the Commander had never been one to view anyone as expendable, regardless of circumstances. So it was that they were on the way to the Omega Nebula, ready to pass through the fateful relay and embark on a mission that would almost definitely result in the death of everyone on board.
As it happened, that morning was a Wednesday, and Thane found himself once again in the observation deck, sharing an hour with Samara.
Fifty-five minutes had passed in total silence. The justicar had not so much as looked at the cup of coffee he'd poured for her...or at him, for that matter. The entire time, she had remained on the other side of the observation deck, staring out the window at the darkness between the stars. As far as Thane could recall, she had not so much as stirred. He didn't mind (it would not be the first time they had spent the hour without saying anything to each other), but in light of recent circumstances he found himself wondering if it was best for things to continue this way.
Kelly Chambers, who would not stop coming around, despite his repeated protestations that he was already in a relationship and not interested in 'broadening her horizons' (Thane felt a twinge of guilt at that thought; the yeoman had been taken with the rest of the crew, and it felt wrong to think ill of her now), had privately expressed to him her impression that Samara had been deeply depressed since the loss of her daughter. Although he did not have all the details on the incident, Thane was aware that the daughter in question had been a dangerous criminal, whom Samara had been obliged to execute under the Justicar Code. It was...uncomfortably close to his situation with Kolyat: fraught with the risk of being responsible for the progeny's downfall. He knew from experience that regardless of what Kolyat had done, he would still have thrown himself into whatever danger was necessary to rescue his son, and, Kalihira forbid, killing him wasn't something Thane was sure he would have been able to do. He could only imagine the toll that the act must have taken on the justicar.
One who was less familiar with Samara, who had not spent the time with her that he had, would have likely wondered if it was possible for her to love anything other than the Code; certainly, that would be an easy mistake to make, given her ruthless devotion to the justicar ideals. Thane, however, was in the unique position of being one of the few parents in the squad. He was familiar with the irrational devotion that parenthood could extract from even the coldest professionals. Even as attached to her job as Samara was...well, he had been too, in a sense, and although (to his shame) providing for his family had also resulted in their neglect, his obsessive working habits had never diminished his affection for his son.
Slowly, Thane rose from his chair. The chronometer read that two minutes were remaining; soon, he'd need to go prepare his gear for the jump to FTL that night. He crossed the room with tentative steps and, when he had closed the distance between himself and Samara, laid a cautious hand on the asari's shoulder. She did not resist, which he counted as a good sign.
"Did you want to talk?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. "I was..." A pause. Samara would probably be insulted by 'worried about you', so he tried a different tack. "I was concerned that perhaps no one had taken the time to speak with you, considering all the chaos."
She turned at last to look at him, and he began to think Chambers had been right. Although the tired smile Samara gave him was encouraging, it did not extend as far as her pale blue eyes. They were as cold and unyielding as they had always been, but there was something new in them: weariness, by the looks of it, and perhaps a bit of resignation as well.
"...Thane." Her voice matched her eyes, quite frankly, and it was fairly obvious that she saw right through the front, but Samara had the grace to not be offended by his worry, and her tone was both understanding and grateful. "Thank you," she began, "but my refuge is in the Code. I have stayed true to it for centuries now, and I know to fall back on it in times like these. Rest assured, I appreciate your concern...but I will endure."
Thane withdrew his hand. The words were heartening, but if her expression was any indicator... "Samara," he tried again, "this isn't healthy. I know it's hard to rely on oth-"
The ship's chronometers, including the one in the observation deck, buzzed quietly. Their hour was up. Thane sighed with frustration. He should have tried to talk to her sooner; she had to know that there were still things he needed to do, and she'd be well within her rights to kick him out and stay here, her guilt eating away at her from the inside.
Sure enough, after a few seconds, Samara turned back to the viewport. Her next words, despite being more or less what he'd predicted, did manage to startle him a bit: "Go to her, Thane. We have very little time remaining, and I think it would be best if you spent it together."
He hesitated for a moment, but complied after a second, turning. Considering the way this mission was likely to go, he would like to spend the last few hours with Jack. They hadn't gotten much of a chance to be alone over the past few days, particularly lately.
So be it, then. He strode forward, reluctant to leave Samara to her grief, but not willing to disrespect her wishes, and made it halfway across the observation deck before he paused, and glanced back at her form illuminated against the blackness of space.
"We will be coming back from this," he said. "I have faith in Shepard, in the rest of the team, and in you."
Without waiting for an answer, Thane stepped through the door into the crew deck and headed for the elevator. He had the feeling Jack would like to hear him repeat that...and on some level, he would too.
She was pacing like a caged animal when he got down to the cargo hold, all full of nervous energy and rearing to go. Thane took care to make some noise coming down the steps, so that he wouldn't sneak up on her (it might well result in a biotic attack if he surprised her handily enough). It felt awkward, almost forced, stepping so hard that his boots thudded even lightly against the stairs, but the gesture was an important one, for the aforementioned safety reasons.
Jack turned, startled, and he became quickly aware that something was amiss: the leather vest she'd purchased on the Citadel a week ago, which she had more or less constantly worn ever since, had been carefully folded and laid on the desk next to her guns. The straps securing her breasts and the vast range of tattoos that covered her body were back on full display, just as they'd been the day he met her. Thane cocked his head to the side, taking the sight in. It was vaguely primal, as if Jack were reverting to a state that felt more natural or comfortable for her, and it said a lot about the stress she was probably under if she felt the need to do so. Her eyeliner was streaked slightly across the tops of her cheeks-had she been crying? No reason to ask; it would probably only set her more on edge.
"Couldn't relax," she began, chewing hard on her bottom lip. "I thought I'd sleep in, since we've got a hell of a night coming up, but...god, look at me. I'm acting like Grunt."
He moved closer to put an arm around her. "There's no need to be concerned about the battle. I don't think I've ever seen anyone as qualified to make it through tonight as you are."
"It's not that." To his surprise, Jack broke away, pacing away towards her cot. "Look, I signed onto this knowing full well what could happen to me. Not like I had anything to lose, right?" The crunch of joints echoed loudly over the hold, and it took Thane a second to realize she was cracking her knuckles. "But...fuck, this kinda thing is hard to talk about. How're you so damn eloquent about it?"
"I'm not sure I follow," Thane answered, a browridge lifting slightly.
If anything, that only frustrated her more. The convict whirled in place with a growl and jabbed an accusatory finger towards him. "Don't be obtuse, Thane. It's like..." She sighed again. "People have this habit of dying on me, it comes with the job. I got used to it after a while, and I learned not to count on them being around for long. Makes it easier when they go. But with you, it's..." After a labored pause, Jack plopped back down on the cot and bit hard into one knuckle. Her sentence trailed off into a grudging silence.
He blinked as the pieces fell into place. She wasn't scared about the possibility of dying on the upcoming mission—that was ridiculous. She was afraid of the possibility of him dying. Perhaps not necessarily in the Collectors' base, but even if they survived that, he had less than half a year left to live. Jack had as much as admitted that she didn't take loss well just now; perhaps she'd had a particularly bad experience in the past (or a bad experience at all—she didn't seem like the type who would be willing to try something a second time if she'd gotten burned initially) and was afraid he'd go the same way.
Thane wanted to tell her it would be all right, of course, but what could he say? It didn't matter what kind of reassurance he gave...she was right. He'd be dead in a matter of months, and no amount of wishing would change that.
An acute pang of fresh, stinging guilt stabbed through his chest.
"Siha," he began, crossing tentatively to sit next to her, "I have known for many years that I will die." He reached out a cautious arm and slid it around the small of her back. "Over time, I came to-"
To his surprise, Jack cut him off. "Don't give me that 'accept it' bullshit," she snapped, turning to glare. Her eyes, already heavy and expressive thanks to her thick set of eyelashes, narrowed menacingly. "You've made it clear you're fine with this, but what about me, for fuck's sake? I'm not used to losing...well, people like you; there haven't exactly been many of them." After a second, her expression softened, just a hair. "By all rights, you shouldn't have been one, either, but...you were there, you helped me, and I just kind of...rgh. Hell, I'm not even totally sure what to call whatever I've been feeling for you, but I know this: thinking about that expiration date of yours hurts."
A moment passed by in silence. Thane wasn't sure what to say, really, and found himself studying the cargo hold's deckplates as he searched uncomfortably for words. His arm tightened around her almost imperceptibly, but as he remained silent, Jack sighed and pulled away from him, turning to lie back on the cot.
"...Was this a mistake?" she finally asked. "As in should we have stayed...well, not enemies, but...whatever we were? I mean...you were there for me, and I had the chance to keep it as...whatever it was. Friends."
"I think it was 'Friends?', actually," Thane appended with a small, tentative smile and a pat to Jack's thigh.
"Heh. Yeah." Her long lashes blinked furiously, scattering the gathering hints of tears in Jack's eyes. "I know I got myself into this, but...fuck. That doesn't make it any easier. Throw me a line here, Thane, c'mon. Can you see where I'm coming from here, at least? Did I just set myself up to get fucked over again?"
The drell bit his lip, considering her words, and finally turned to look across the cot into her eyes. "Jack," he began, "I don't think this is a mistake. I realize-" and here he held up a hand to preemptively catch any arguments, "-that you're in a better position than I am to look at the long-term repercussions of this. But even if you aren't sure how you feel about me, know this: I care about you, and I am sure of it. I don't regret a second of the time we've shared so far."
She stared back at him, sullen, eyeliner streaking on her cheeks.
"Despite all my experience," Thane continued, gently running a hand over the leg nearest him, "I must confess I've spent more than a few nights wide awake, asking myself the same questions you've just voiced. Not simply because I didn't want to inflict that on you, but..." His gaze lowered, and a long, hesitant moment passed. Despite himself, he could feel his hand tremble against her knee. "...this is shameful. I accepted my body's death long ago—I should be at peace on the eve of battle, and yet with you by my side, when I dwell on our eventual parting, a sense of dread, hollow and numbing, bores its way into my heart." Teeth ground together roughly as his jaw clenched. "I should be above this, siha. I'm ashamed."
He could hear her sitting up next to him, and a second later, her hand brushed past his neck and pulled him closer. Jack's forehead rested lightly against his shoulder as she leaned forward, so that when a dry, humorless chuckle (more like a sob, really) escaped her, he felt the vibrations running all the way down to his fingertips.
"Guess the icy badass assassin's not so above it after all," the convict murmured, both arms tightening around him. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and he could feel the hot wave of her breath running down his arm. "It's not fair, Thane. It's not fucking fair."
Thane reached over to stroke at her cheek. "The galaxy rarely is, siha. You and I know that better than most, I think." The hand at Jack's face pushed lightly, tilting her head back, and he leaned closer to press a kiss against her lips. They held it for a brief, hungry moment until she pulled back, placing an arm between them.
"So what, then?" Her tone was steady, but resigned, weary. "Is this it?"
Swallowing his inhibitions, he took the plunge. "I don't want it to be. I treasure what we have, siha, and I don't want to let the fact that it will end someday tarnish what it is to us, here and now." Jack had leaned in again to peer into his eyes; her expression was unreadable, but at least she was listening. "It will never last as long as either of us would prefer, but I think what time we have should be treated as a gift, and we should enjoy it to the fullest while it's still here."
He paused to give her a chance to respond, but she stayed silent, pensive, holding his gaze without another word. Truthfully, he couldn't tell what Jack was thinking at the moment, and he couldn't blame her; it wasn't an easy decision for anyone to make, let alone people like them.
After a second, Thane gently released her and pulled himself to his feet. "I'd like you to think about it," he said, stroking her shoulder affectionately. "I know it's difficult, but I think letting eventualities destroy what we've shared would be a greater regret for both of us than reaching out and taking hold of life while we can." The drell turned, straightening his collar, and took a step forward. "Perhaps after the mission, we can bring it up again and try to come to a decision when-"
Jack's hand reached out and settled on his hip, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back around, blinking, as she pulled him back to the cot. The hand trailed upwards, reaching his jaw, and gently tilted his head forward, leaving him to look down at her.
Their eyes met.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
He couldn't help the relieved sigh that ran through his chest at that moment, the tangible sense of release as his shoulders relaxed again. "Siha," he answered, lowering himself onto the cot next to her, "it would be my privilege."
They passed the next few hours in each other's arms, nestled together comfortably in the darkness of the cargo hold and silent except for the slow, reassuring steadiness of their breathing, and for those few hours, everything in the galaxy was as it should be.
By the time Jack and Thane answered the call to the briefing room, the rest of the squad had already gathered, and Shepard was pointing to a holographic layout of what had to be the Collector base they'd crashed on. "We don't have much time to formulate a plan of attack here," he warned. "Unless we strike first, it won't be more than an hour until the Collectors send out search parties to track our ship down. We have to get in there and hit them before they can think to do that."
The table was strewn with heatsinks, weapons, armor augmentations—indeed, they'd transformed 'war room' into a much more literal phrase. Miranda, who had been sifting through a pile of said heatsinks, gestured towards the hologram in turn. "There's at least two egress points we can easily reach from here, and both of them lead towards that huge atrium," she noted. "I'd bet the Collectors are storing their prisoners in there; it'd make the most sense, considering how much space they must take up. We could go through either of these and make our way to the atrium."
Not particularly interested in drawing attention to herself, Jack led Thane over to one end of the table and settled in next to Zaeed and Grunt, both of whom offered them a stiff nod by way of greetings. She grabbed one of the scram rails off the table and began fitting it onto her shotgun as the discussion continued.
Shepard nodded, scratching at his closely-shaven scalp. "Or we could take both, if we split into two teams and hit them from both directions at once. A pincer attack—they'll have to split their forces to try to defend against it, and once one group gets to the atrium, the Collectors don't stand a chance at holding it."
"Hrm. Problem presents itself." It was Mordin, of course; the salarian stepped forward and focused his omnitool on the layout, highlighting the atrium in question. "Schematics indicate security protocol in place. Doors locked, of course, but controls only accessible from inside atrium. Alternate means of entry necessary to allow both teams access; personally, suggest-" He paused for a breath. "-ventilation shafts."
Miranda's lips pursed as she considered it. "Going through the vents, hacking the system to get the doors open...yes. It could work. A single person could pull it off, theoretically. With the security the Collectors likely have in place, that'd be a heavy risk..."
"I'll do it."
All eyes turned towards the person who had spoken up, and who now hefted his shotgun to rest it against a shoulder. "Heavy risks are my specialty," Jacob added with a smirk. "Those vents look big enough for me to fit into, and I've got an Eviscerator and a Serrice amp that says the Collectors' defenses aren't quite good enough. If anybody needs to take one for the team, consider me the first in line to volunteer."
Jack shrugged, grabbing a bandolier loaded with thermal clips off the table and passing it down to Thane. Taylor had some serious balls, she had to give him that, but it was his life; if he wanted to throw it away it wasn't her problem.
Apparently their commander had a different perspective on the situation. "I appreciate that, Jacob," he began with a familiar grin. "You're a hell of a soldier, and I don't doubt you can do it, but I'm going to need someone who's more tech-savvy for this. The longer those doors stay closed, the bigger the risk—not just to whoever's doing the hacking, but to the whole squad." He clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I'm not going to risk anybody needlessly. Tali, think you can handle the Collectors' systems?"
Across the room, Tali looked up from her omnitool and swallowed visibly. "...I can do it," she answered. "Just make sure you give me some cover, and I'll have the doors taken care of, guaranteed." There was a hint of a waver in her voice, but the steely undertones made it clear that she would brook no objections.
"Sounds good." Shepard turned to the rest of the room, counting up the groups. "All right...two squads. I'll lead one of them through this entrance." He motioned to a wide-looking tunnel that lead straight down, not unlike a ramp, towards the atrium. "This path's a little more wide-open, so I'll bring along some of our long-distance specialists. We'll be able to cut a swath through this chamber and get to the atrium door while Tali navigates the vents and gets everything unlocked."
"Sounds like a plan," Miranda agreed. She examined the alternate path; it was not unlike a spiral staircase heading down into the atrium, and would likely be fairly cramped. "This path's got less room to maneuver in, so my team will have most of the close-quarters-combat experts. We should be at the atrium around the same time that you get there."
Jack took a quick glance around the room. It was silent, but she could make out that look on more than one face. Well, fuck that, if they weren't going to speak up, she was. "Uh, question," she called out. "Did I miss Shepard saying 'oh, and by the way, the cheerleader's leading the other team' at some point?"
The other woman glowered. "Jack, this isn't the time for your little authority-issues routine. We're trying to plan a mission here."
It was too late; the dam had officially been breached. "I don't recall hearing Shepard say that either," Garrus spoke up from his corner. One eye narrowed behind his targeting visor. "Hell, half of us don't even trust you. What's keeping you from putting Cerberus's interests over the mission?"
"There's no difference between the two," Miranda retorted, hands firmly planted on her hips. Jack had to give her credit, she wasn't backing down despite the rising amount of opposition. "This is a Cerberus mission, you'll recall."
A low snarl rumbled in Grunt's throat. "But Shepard is our battlemaster," he insisted. "It's his decision to make, not yours, and you have to abide by that just like the rest of us."
"My oath is sworn to Shepard, not to Cerberus," Samara stated flatly, her lips tightly pursed.
Thane finished buckling on his bandolier and turned to attach one to Jack. "I was hired by Shepard, not the Illusive Man," he said. "It's my professional prerogative to take orders exclusively from him."
Everyone turned expectantly to Zaeed, who looked up to see a room full of glances aimed at him and, after a moment of contemplation, shrugged. "...What?" he asked. "Like I give a goddamn who's in charge."
The XO sighed with exasperation and turned to Shepard. "Look, this isn't a popularity contest, Commander," she exclaimed. "We need someone with experience in squad tactics and developed leadership capabilities in order to get that second group through to the atrium."
"You're right," Shepard agreed with a nod.
"Thank you, Commander. It's nice to see someone putting the mission before their personal-"
He turned to the rest of the room. "Zaeed, Legion, Thane, Mordin, and Miranda will be coming with me. Garrus, you're taking Jacob, Grunt, Jack, and Samara down the other pathway. At the center, Tali will open the doors to the atrium and we'll haul ass inside, then try to find our crew members."
The turian's mandibles pulled back in what probably passed for a mischievous grin. "Understood, Commander."
Miranda glared icily, but to her credit, she neither protested nor made a scene, instead opting to simply fall into line. "Let's get moving," she snapped. "The sooner we get to that atrium, the better."
"All right, people!" Shepard announced, waving an arm towards the door. "No speeches, you're all better than that. You know what's on the line here, and you know what's expected of you. It's been an honor to serve with you all, and I know you'll make me proud today no matter what happens. Now let's get moving!" The group began to break up as everyone grabbed any remaining gear off the table, formed into a vaguely orderly line, and started filing out of the briefing room.
"No speeches. Ha!" Zaeed snorted, checking the sights on his rifle. "Best sonuvabitch I've ever served under, that's for goddamned sure."
Jack, at the back of the line, managed a half-smirk at that. She had to admit, it was a refreshing change from what she'd expected. Next to her, Thane sidled up and offered a smile. She squeezed his hand, flashing a grin back. "You ready for this, Thane?"
"As ready as I will ever be, I suspect," he answered, squeezing back. "Be careful."
"I'll, uh...see you in the atrium, okay?"
"You will."
They paused there at the exit to the briefing room and hesitated awkwardly, both of them at a loss for anything else to say, but neither willing to terminate the conversation and split off quite yet. After a second, Jack pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and caught the drell in another kiss. A long moment passed in enjoyable silence; the kiss was rough, lusty, and full of life, not unlike Jack herself, and it seemed a shame to let it go prematurely. Finally, though, it was necessary to break it off, leaving both of them catching their breath and more than a little enthused about coming back from the mission alive.
"Kick some Collector ass," Jack whispered.
Thane nodded with a smirk. "And you as well, siha."
They turned and headed in opposite directions towards their respective teams, determined to go out and face whatever hell awaited them in the Collector base, and equally determined to come back in one piece. Regardless of what happened on the mission, neither intended to be robbed of what precious time they had left.
