He had been nervous when he stood before the door to her cabin, shifting his weight from foot to foot after EDI asked him to wait a few moments, wondering if he had made a terrible mistake. How ridiculous was this? Asking his commanding officer to dinner—it was absurd. He never did this with any of his other employers. Her acceptance of his offer did nothing to assuage his fear—what if it all went wrong, what if he said the wrong thing, what if he made a fool out of himself… he had no idea how humans conducted themselves in casual situations. Oh, of course he had watched them, observed the leisure activities of his targets, but that was different. He had not followed their movements in order to learn from them, he had followed them in order to kill them. That was, Goddess willing, not how this evening was going to end.
But that was all he knew how to do.
Irikah had despaired over his distinct lack of knowledge in any area of recreation and had made it a mission of sorts to educate him in the art of… having fun. Surprisingly, having fun to 'normal' people didn't mean sparring in the dunes or studying anatomy or rigging elaborate, painful traps to catch a classmate unaware. It had meant going out and eating, dancing, attending concerts, just talking—and not about work, not about killing. Killing was the last thing one was supposed to talk about. I help her by chopping vegetables, and the silence is nice, comforting, but then it occurs to me to say, "I tried out a new weapon upgrade in the field last night. It worked really well. Very powerful. I was able to increase my distance from the target by 200 meters, and it was still a perfect shot, I…" I look up, catch her eyes. She is horrified, the spoon poised above the pot, forgotten. "Uhm. Never mind." I do not bring it up again. He learned that there were just some things he could not share with Irikah, and how well he shot his targets in the back of the skull was one of them. He thought that Shepard might appreciate the stories a little more, but it was still not something he felt was appropriate dinner conversation.
But humans, as far as his limited knowledge extended, seemed to like eating in restaurants and dancing as much as the drell did. So, he felt fairly confident in choosing to take Shepard to dinner, but he was uncertain what they should do afterward. He had thought about it long and hard, pulling up information on various nightlife attractions in Nos Astra, and being turned off by all of them. Clubbing? No. No dancing. He couldn't stand crowds. A movie? He wished very much to be spared having to sit still and watch trite romances unfold between quarians and turians. Music? Expel 10 was not really… his style. And Shepard did not look like one of their strung-out-on-hallex fans either. So…
What to do? The problem was that the only thing he was completely confident that she liked was tea and slaughtering slavers. And while he would enjoy that as well, it made for an odd night out. She might actually really enjoy clubbing or movies, but even if she did, at least for the dancing, it would have been hard for him to plaster a smile on his face and not flinch every time some drunken sot fell against him. At the end of the night his nerves would be so frayed that he's almost have to kill someone just to release the tension. And he was really not a very good dancer. Then again… what he had seen of Shepard, she didn't really seem to be that great of a dancer either. What a pair they would make—awkwardly shuffling on the floor together.
Thane had stifled a sigh, wondering what could possibly be taking so long. He tapped the toe of his boot against the floor, trying to figure out what might be delaying her. She could be finishing up an assignment—that was most likely. Or maybe she had changed her mind and was desperately trying to come up with a reason to gracefully back out. That was also likely. Thane hummed and blinked. He would have to prepare himself for that possibility…
But his nervous fidgeting had ended when the doors had finally opened, and… There she was.
Her muted dark wine dress (he appreciated the fact that it was bright enough that he could tell that it was red) contrasted delightfully with her pale skin, and as she bent down to slip her small feet into soft slippers, he found all of his anxiety melting away, a low, contented croon drifting lazily out of him as he contemplated how lovely she was with her rosy scars. He hadn't anticipated that she would dress that way for him—he had honestly expected her to wear her usual armor that she always chose when they docked. But… this was different. Casual. She could hide few weapons in that outfit. It meant that she trusted him… and he was quite flattered.
She had blushed under his scrutiny, and he felt himself almost ache with how much he admired her—she was such a strange juxtaposition. She was so unwavering in the field, so unstoppable and fierce, and now she looked so unassuming, so small and slender with her soft pink skin, but it was part of her thrill. He knew that in a moment, if she decided that he posed a threat to her, she could and would savagely attack him—perhaps even kill him. It was exciting, dangerous—and in this way she reminded him of himself: both of them could look innocuous, ordinary, all the while hiding a secret power that pulsed just underneath their skin, a clandestine danger that few witnessed and lived to hold the memory.
And with her at his side in the marketplace and at the restaurant, he had put aside his own inadequacies, felt that he was capable of this once again, of being someone who wasn't completely defined by death and pain and suffering.
The setting sun of Illium had illuminated her pale face, and as she told him about her childhood—her family, their crops, the warmth of the soil, the smoothness of the grain—he found himself trying very hard to picture it, to picture her as a child, without such cares, without such burdens. Both of them had been taken away from their families, but her experience had hurt so much more than his did. He had forged new connections—she seemed so very alone. It was not, though, for lack of relationships—she had the companionship of those such as Garrus and Tali, but she seemed to keep them at an arm's length, as if she were afraid of getting too close. Part of him wondered if it was due to the loss she had experienced in her life. How many had she allowed near her heart that left her? That died?
He, too, would leave her one day, but he hoped that he might live long enough to ask her to let him see such large fields of waving wheat—an ocean of feathered tops. It must be breathtaking, to stand amidst the gentle stalks, adrift in a sea of gold. He wanted to have that memory—and in return he would give her one of his... It is dangerous to be outside of the climate domes, but I go anyway—I cannot tolerate the artificial breezes and mechanical air of the cities for another moment, and instead stand on gray cliffs, wind whipping through my jacket, salt spray stinging my face, rain soaking my scales, and I feel alive. Thane wondered if she would like Kahje—most didn't. But he felt that she, of all off-worlders, would be able to understand and appreciate its beauty.
And as they ate and drank, the sun slipped below the horizon, and her face was lit instead with the gentle light of the cityscape reflected off the lapping waves. Their conversation had turned to a slightly darker topic, and Thane had hummed his sadness for her as she told him of her broken family. He had known, of course, what had happened to her colony—there were few who did not know of Shepard's tragic childhood—but to hear it from her voice... One could be impersonal when simply reading an account of a life; it was easy to be detached. It was not easy when the person looked him in the eyes, held him there with her sorrow and pain.
He understood why she couldn't go back—it was for the same reason that he could never return to his family even after he had completed his training as a child. He was different. Reforged in blood and violence. He did not belong to that world anymore—the world of family and simplicity and warmth—and neither did she, no matter how much they each longed to return to it.
But he had not anticipated Shepard bringing up Alenko.
He felt something wither inside of him at the mention of the man's name and had frowned at the sorrowful look in Shepard's kelp eyes. Alenko had abandoned her—she had all but admitted it—and Thane felt a sharp stab of anger when he thought of the disappointment Alenko had caused her. She already had too much of that in her life. Thane had wanted to tell her to forget about the lieutenant—he was there for her, after all; she did not need a companion in her life that would carelessly drop her the moment they had a disagreement, and a disagreement that was rooted in mere miscommunication, no less.
But that would have been selfish.
For if he were true to himself, then he would have to admit that he wished to tell Shepard these things because he wanted... something that she would not, could not, give. And she seemed to truly love Alenko, despite the human's asinine behavior, and if Shepard could get her lover to once again light his eyes upon her, to sing softly for her, then Thane could do nothing except offer conciliatory advice—forgiveness was always paramount amongst mates.
And it hurt to say it, hurt to urge her to seek out Alenko again, but it was right... the right thing to do. As much as he disliked Alenko, he knew that the human might not be as bad as Thane thought he was—Shepard loved him, after all, and Thane trusted her to choose her company wisely. All people had their failings, their moments of idiocy, and if this was Alenko's, then Thane could not condemn him on that alone. The gods knew that Thane had definitely had more than his fair share of stupidity. And though it pained Thane to urge Shepard toward her former lover, he would give so very much to see her happy. Happiness, after all, was something that Thane could not give—even if she were to accept him, he would, inevitably, leave her. To cause her pain once again, to allow her to experience loss once again, was something that Thane did not want to do. With Alenko, she had a chance, a chance at a normal life. She could have children and a home and bid farewell to the death and sorrow that had reigned in her life.
But the topic, as it stood, was rather depressing, and it went against Thane's ultimate goal of the evening—to make Shepard momentarily forget her troubles.
So he gently teased her by holding the meaning of her role under the Goddess to his heart (and, if he were being honest, he held it back also because... well, because she just might find it odd—most people found his beliefs to be such), and leaned back in his chair. "Are you finished, Shepard?" She had not touched the remainder of her food for a bit.
She chased a few vegetables around her plate. "Yeah, I think so." Her smile was sweet. "Thanks again for this. It was nice."
Thane brought up his omnitool to transfer credits to the restaurant. "It does not have to be over..." He crooned low for her. "You have never walked the shores here, have you? Would you like to?"
She worried at her bottom lip, as if unsure she wanted to accept. Thane blinked, looking briefly out the window before turning his gaze back to her. He reached out to touch her hand lightly, bringing her kelp eyes up to meet his. "The moon is bright tonight, siha. The air is warm and sweet. The ocean calls to us."
She cocked her head a little, fixing him with an amused little smirk. "Well, since you put it that way, let's go."
They slipped out of the restaurant, both nearly silent now that she wore her soft shoes instead of her boots, and he took her down a weaving path to the shore, the sand crumbling under their feet. He walked slowly for her—he knew his night vision was better than hers was, although, perhaps he shouldn't assume that now that she had her 'upgrades', as she called them. They came to a fence, the ocean tumbling about ten meters beyond it, and Shepard stopped short.
"That sign." She pointed. "It says that the beach is off limits."
"It belonged to Ms. Nassana." Thane turned to smile at her in the darkness. "I do not think she will mind."
"You're terrible." She said, coloring the air a sweet pink with her amusement.
"I am practical." He climbed over the fence. "This beach is one of the better ones in the area. It is, of course, why she owned it." He turned automatically to hold out his hand for her, but she landed gracefully beside him. She took it anyway though, giving it a brief squeeze before she dropped it to walk past him, and he felt his heart flutter in response.
The path was lined with dark trees and bushes, and she pushed a branch aside to move forward, holding it for him as he caught up. "You've been here before, then?"
He matched her stride, the trail just wide enough for two. "Yes. Several times. The drell do not believe in land ownership. The sands belong to us all. The ocean heeds no master."
"Really?" She stepped lightly over a rock. "So, there's no concept of property amongst your people?"
He squeezed a bit closer to her to avoid a particularly gnarled branch that arced across the path; he gripped her shoulder briefly as he pressed himself against her before moving back to give her more room. "Hmm, not quite. If I were to take materials and build something—a house, for instance—then that house belongs to me. But the natural world... that belongs to no one. You can own that as much as you can own a sunset. It simply does not make sense."
They emerged from the tangled path, the wide bay out before them. The moon illuminated the sand, highlighting it with silver, and a few nightbirds called to each other across the waters. In the distance, he could hear the hum of traffic, just barely over the rhythmic waves. "Humans build fences around things and call it ours."
Thane tasted the salt on the air and blinked both eyelids against the breeze. "I know. It is one of the things that make other species wary of you. You're so... possessive. Not just of things, but people, ideas... You want to own it all."
She was quiet for a moment, and Thane let the waves fill the silence while she pondered his assertion. Then her words came, heavy with thought. "Maybe it's not just ownership, though. Maybe it's protection."
Thane rumbled his affection for her. It was delightful, the way she took an idea and worried at it until she could produce an answer. So many people didn't even bother questioning in the first place—she questioned and then sought the truth. "Like you protect us?" He could feel her look over at him, and he turned to face her. "We, your crew, are 'your' people, are we not? Do you own us or protect us, siha?"
"I don't own you." She said quietly, tilting her pale face up to him. "And I hope that I can protect you."
Her words were… touching. That someone sought to protect him... he was not used to anyone feeling that he needed protection, much less acting on it. It was a pleasant feeling, to be looked after. But that, of course, was in her nature. It was what marked her as Arashu's own. And his duty, of course, was to ensure that she carried out the Goddess' will by giving her all that he had, all that he was. "The feeling is mutual." Her hair dipped low into her face, threads spun from a thousand fiery sunsets, and it took all of his will power to not reach up and smooth it back, tuck it behind one of her tiny shell ears, touch the soft curve of her cheek.
His voice had been deeper than usual, and it seemed to pull a shudder from her, and she closed her eyes briefly before turning to the ocean. "So," she said. "Here's the beach." She flung her arms wide, the wind catching her hair and blowing it about. "It's been forever since I've been to a place without having some sort of point, purpose, job, whatever."
"It is so for me as well. The last time..." He felt the memory come on and let it, eager to share himself with her. "Kolyat clings to my shoulders as we climb up the rocks—Irikah reaches the top first, and reaches down to grab our son and pull him up. 'This is good.' She pronounces, looking about. 'Perfect.' We had gone on a picnic. That was... about fifteen years ago."
"Wow." Her eyes widened as she looked back at him, trying to smooth down her flying hair. "No vacation in fifteen years?"
"Oh, we did small things since then—we would stay with family, go to museums, play on the beach—but never a trip outside of the city limits like that. I was always... busy." He hummed low at her. "And you? When was your last true vacation?"
"About two and a half years ago, I guess?" Shepard looked down at the sands. "With... Kaidan. We took a few days on Earth."
Thane ignored the tightening of his chest. "Earth? I have never been. I hear it is lovely, though."
"It was my first time there!" She grinned. "And it is nice. We went to a place... London, have you heard of it? It's a very old city, I guess. Lots of history."
Thane nodded. "I have read of it, seen pictures. Many bloody wars."
Shepard shrugged, itching the back of her leg with the toe of her shoe. "That's just about all of human history, really."
He hummed at her, high enough for her to hear, apparently, because she looked over at him. "Drell history, too. Especially toward the end, of course."
Her eyes traveled over his form, lingering on his chest before rising to his face. "Have you ever been to Rakhana?"
He blinked, tilting his head. "Once. It is desolate and lonely. The temples hold nothing but the wind, now. It... is just so very empty. Would you have me share a memory with you?" At her nod and tiny smile, he closed his eyes briefly to pull one that he liked best. "The dunes rise and fall, shadowed with the setting sun, and Arashu's temple rises tall out of the smooth sands below it, proud even now after a hundred years unattended by the faithful. The white sands of the walls glitter in the fading light, and I move swiftly down the dunes, my body somehow attuned to how they shift—instinctual memories—and slip inside the warm sandstone walls, running my hands along their well worn surface as I make my way to the center of the Mysteries."
She had stepped closer to him during his recitation, and when he opened his eyes he was momentarily surprised by her proximity. "It sounds so… beautiful. And, you're right: lonely. Why wouldn't you want to stay there? Isn't there any chance your people could rebuild?"
Thane shook his head, trilling softly. Sharing memories with her was one of the more rewarding experiences of his life. He loved to see her bright eyes take his words in, sorting through them, creating images of her own to accompany them. "Kahje is home to many now—there is little desire to go back to our old world."
She took another tiny step closer, clasping her arms over herself as if she were a bit cold. "Would you want to rebuild?"
Thane looked down at the sands. Her question was one that was bandied back and forth amongst his people from time to time. Thane had not participated in the debate—it was something that he would ultimately have no say in, after all, but it had been interesting to hear the opinions of the various factions. He thought that after he had made his pilgrimage to Rakhana he would have a firmer opinion, but that hadn't been the case at all. "I... I am not sure. The sands there, the sun... it felt good and right. But... it was not home. Regardless, it would take resources we do not have in order to do so. Perhaps future generations might decide to attempt it."
She looked sad at this, her brow furrowing, and he rumbled his concern. She was probably thinking of Mindoir. He had heard on the news that the new colony had built a statue there in her honor. She had a different reason why her home could never be reclaimed. He was taken by a desire to chase the shadows away from her bright eyes, and he took her elbow lightly, pulling her in front of him, almost folding her against him, and faced her out toward the ocean. "Look at it. Is it not beautiful? Look at how the city lights play on the waves. And can you hear that? There is a concert playing in the park across the bay."
"You're trying to distract me." She murmured, leaning in a little to his touch, and he bent his head down toward her, inadvertently inhaling the fresh water scent of her unruly hair as it danced in his face. "But it is beautiful. The moon looks so close."
"Yes." His mouth was close to her ear and she shivered and let out a little gasp, stepping away from him.
She licked her coral lips; her cheeks were a delicate pink. "How far down does the beach go? Can we walk for a bit?"
Thane immediately missed her warmth and wished she wouldn't shy away from him. "It is approximately three kilometers. It will be an easy distance."
"Do you mind? I'd like to see what the rest of the coast looks like."
"Not at all." He started off down the shore, and she fell into step next to him.
She paused now and then to nudge a shell or piece of seaweed with the toe of her shoe, and Thane stopped with her to watch, almost reminded of a curious child—Irikah had held the same fascination with the natural world; she had always been overturning rocks, peeking into long grasses, dipping sticks into deep pools. There were not many parallels between Shepard and Irikah, but this small similarity brought a smile to Thane's face. They would have been good friends.
And so they walked in silence for the better part of a kilometer, unbroken except for small comments like "look at this rock" and "I wonder what kind of shell this is" and Thane was content to let it reign for a bit, for it meant that he could observe, uninterrupted, how the moonlight shone on her legs and arms, how it brought out the delicate latticework of her scars. He let out a soft, almost silent sigh. Exquisite. They had seemed to be fading over the past several weeks, and Thane hoped they would never go away entirely.
But then she caught his gaze and stared at him with a strange expression on her face that made Thane avert his eyes to study the ground at his feet. Her eyes could be too penetrating at times. It was… unnerving. "What is it?" Her voice held notes that he could not decipher.
What could he tell her? Certainly not what he was thinking, how beautiful she was, how he admired her curiosity, how she probably would have gotten along famously with his dead wife… any one of those subjects would have just sounded… odd. And perhaps, especially with the first one, inappropriate. "Your shoes." He blurted out finally. "You should take them off. You had wanted to walk without them in the sand before."
She arched an elegant eyebrow. "I... never said that."
He looked up at her, feeling shy and awkward and almost annoyed at how she made him feel such emotions. He was supposed to be far too old to feel such things. "I saw you, before we ate. You curled your toes in your shoes when we were talking about the beach. I thought... The sunset illuminates her skin, making her flush a delicate pink. She looks wistfully out at the waves, and her small feet curl up in her slippers. I promise myself that she will have the opportunity to walk in the sands before the night is over."
She gave a tinkling little laugh, and Thane could feel her heat rise. He wanted to run his hands over her to soak it all up. "Well, nothing escapes you, I guess." She bent down, slipping off her shoes. "Are you going to as well?"
Her hair divided itself on either side of the back of her neck, and Thane was incredibly distracted by the sensuous ruby split by ivory cream. "I..."
"Come on, Thane." She grinned mischievously up at him, blissfully unaware of the tormented thoughts that danced behind his dark eyes. "What's good for the goose..."
Thane shook his head at her, grateful for her confusing, but distracting, words. "Again? Shepard, why do you employ so many fowl metaphors?"
She straightened, shoes dangling on the edge of two, slim fingers. "Foul?" Her nose was wrinkled ever so slightly, and she gave him a bewildered smile.
He thought about sharing the memory of when they stood at the galaxy map together, planning out that mission as she sneaked sips of his tea, but he decided to keep it to himself, not trusting himself to keep things… innocent. "Yes. Ducks, chickens, and now geese? Are they really important in your culture?"
She got it anyway though, her eyes widening, pink mouth making a little 'o' of surprise. "Ha! Fowl! As in birds!" He blinked at her unnecessary clarification—what else could he be talking about—and she burst out laughing, and the wind swirling around her, tugging at the edges of her dress as if joining in the revelry. "I hadn't noticed I did that, but no, they're not." She tried to contain her giggles, but it was to no avail, apparently. She clutched her side, her laughter uncontrollable now, and Thane would have felt slightly left out (he really did not understand what was so funny), but she gripped his arm to steady herself, and he didn't think that was so bad.
She wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, god, Thane. That was hilarious."
"Thank you?" He must have unwittingly made some sort of play on words. If only he knew exactly what sort of thing he had said…
And that set her off again, and this time, Thane couldn't help smiling in return. She sank down into the sand, still laughing softly, and pulled him down with her. "Goddamn, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time."
Her hand lingered on him, and he trilled his pleasure. "It is good to see you do so, Shepard." And it was—she allowed herself to be weighed down far too much with her duties. One could only stand the stress so long before one reached the breaking point. And he could not allow that to happen to her—too much depended on her being able to complete her mission. And if by some miracle she were able to pull through this under such stress and succeed, she would be damaged beyond repair at the end of it, which would, to him, be just as big of a tragedy. What good was saving the galaxy if the best and brightest amongst them collapsed under the weight of her responsibilities at the end?
She smiled ruefully at him, taking her hand away to lean back in the sand. "There's usually not a lot to laugh about."
He rumbled low at her. "That is not entirely true. You have to learn to see the humor in every day things."
Her laugh was teasing now. "Yeah, because you're an expert at that."
Oh yes, it was not hard to pick up on her sarcasm. "Perhaps, but I was not aware that my life was to be taken as a model for all others."
She leaned over to nudge him with her shoulder. "Why not? Everyone wants to be a badass assassin."
Trilling his amusement—such a hilarious picture of himself—he mimicked her motion, earning a laugh. "Yes, it is great. I get to kill very interesting people in very interesting ways."
She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "What more can anyone ask for?"
Thane smiled over at her. "Well then, siha, I will trade lives with you. You can be the skulking assassin, and I can be the hero of the galaxy."
She pursed her lips at him, fixing him with a seemingly serious expression, but he could see the sparks deep inside her kelp eyes. "Would you really want all that publicity?"
He shook his head, rumbling his regret. "Hmm. No. Never mind. I retract my offer."
She chuckled some more and dug her feet into the sand. "Too late. No take backs. Now you get to deal with all the stupid Cerberus shit and that infuriating turian council member and everyone always wanting you to wave a magic wand to solve all of their problems. I'll go to Life Support and meditate, coming out only to drink tea."
He smiled at the mental image of himself that her words conjured up. "I come out for other reasons. Tea is just the main reason."
Her smile seemed to falter a bit. "I used to not drink tea, you know? I used to drink coffee."
Thane nodded, looking out to the waves. "Yes, you mentioned that once."
Her tone shifted to something hesitant and hurt, and Thane moved his gaze back to her again. "I remember... before... that I drank coffee all the time. But now I drink tea."
Even if he didn't see the frown on her face, Thane would have known that her thoughts were turning in a dark direction. "Tastes change."
"Yeah, sure. Of course. But why did mine change?" She shook her head. "Never mind. It's a stupid question."
He touched her gently, carefully, tracing the edge of the sleeve on her shoulder. "No, it is not. You think it is important. Let us talk about it. What is it you fear?"
She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as if she were cold and was quiet for a long time. Thane wasn't quite sure what to do—part of him thought it would be best just to leave her to it, let her work things out on her own, but the other part was convinced that this was what he was here for, to help her, to be the receptacle of all her negative emotions. She could pour them out to him, and he could carry it. He was used to such things; it would not harm him anymore.
So he persisted in his low song for her, one that was high enough that he knew she heard, could see it in the way she cocked her head toward him. And finally, after many silent moments, she spoke. "I haven't... told anyone this. Don't say anything. But when Miranda... I had just met her, right?" She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "I had just finished talking to the Illusive Man. And then I go talk to her, and she says 'oh I wanted to put a control chip in your head.' Real nice. So, now I'm always worried about... that. But that's not the most important thing. I mean, I was dead. Very dead. As dead as someone could be. What if they couldn't bring everything back? I go through all those stupid biographies published on me, trying to make sure I remember everything. What if I don't? What do I do?"
The memory of their conversation about Kasumi was instantly in his head, and Thane understood, now, what she had been driving at. He leaned closer to her, wanting to take her into his arms and soothe her concerns away. "You worry that you are changed."
"How would I even know?" She looked over at him now, eyes pleading for an answer that he did not have.
All he could offer her was his song, and he crooned for her, letting it color his words with peace and gentleness. "You place too much stock in memories, Shepard. I did not know you before. But I believe I can say I know you tolerably well now. The person you are now... humbles me. You are extraordinary. I do not mean simply your prowess in battle. You are..." He searched for a word. "Beautiful." She blinked, looking surprised, and he hastened to clarify. "I mean... beautiful in the sense that the brightness of your spirit is like a newborn star—all fire and power and danger and incredible, breathtaking beauty. So you see, siha, who you were before—whether you are that person now or not—does not matter. What matters is now, and now you are beautiful."
She turned from him and colored faintly in the moonlight. Her scars… Arashu help him for thinking of this now, but they were beautiful. The moon only accentuated them, the pale light caressing her like a lover. "You're such a flatterer."
"It is not flattery, Shepard." One finger drifted up to trace a scar across her arm before he could stop it, and she shivered under his touch. Thane crooned for her, a rising and falling song of deep hums and gentle trills. She was beautiful on the inside and the outside, and she needed to know, despite what she might think of him, despite how it might… change things. He told her as a friend, as a confidant, if only because he could tell her as nothing more than that. "I meant to tell you this before. I wanted to, but it did not seem appropriate at the time. But, I wanted to say... your scars. They are lovely."
She looked as if she wanted to pull away, her eyes wide, but she held herself still, radiating warmth. "I..."
He couldn't stop himself, even as part of his mind screamed at him to be quiet; he was betraying too much. But her skin was so very soft. "When you wore that dress, you seemed self conscious. I wanted to tell you that you should not be. Such delicate patterns, such exquisite colors. They... you... are beautiful."
She seemed to find her voice again, watching him trail his fingers up her arm. "You're probably one of the only people who thinks so." Her words were quiet, hesitant, breathy in such a way that his heart beat almost painfully fast in response.
"I doubt that. But if so, then I am fortunate." His fingers reached the top of her shoulder, and he wished that he dared to continue, to caress the soft skin of her throat. Her warmth... her pulse jumped under her pale skin, and she smelled of heat and salt, and he wanted to bury his face in the crook of her neck and lick up that scent until she cried out underneath him. But...
Goddess, he was losing himself.
Instead he took his hand away, resting it lightly on her back—a friendly gesture—one that he hoped mitigated the sudden flush along his frill, and maybe her breathing would slow down, and she wouldn't scent the air with that intoxicating taste, and make him want to… want to…
She curled her toes in the sand. "You should take off your shoes too." Her voice held notes of nervous tension, and he hummed softly for her.
"Very well." He took away his touch and reached down to unzip the sides of his boots, pulling them off. He blinked at her soft laugh. "What is it?"
"Your toes. Your toes are fused too."
His diverted hum was low and thrumming, and he was thankful for the sudden ease in pressure. Shepard: always an expert in defusing situations before they became dangerous. "Yes, of course. That is normal. It is abnormal for you to have so very many."
"What?" She poked him playfully in the arm. "You're the weird one."
"Actually, no. Humans: so many fingers, so many toes. Look at the turians, the quarians, and a host of other races—they have far less than ten fingers and toes and get along in life just fine. Why do you have so many? Excessive."
"Hey, the asari have the same number."
He felt his lips tug up in a little smirk, amusement thrumming deep in his chest. "So your species are both strange." He dug his feet into the sand, sighing at the pleasure of the rasping grains along his scales. He lay back, flinging his arms above his head. It had been years since he had done this—feeling the sand on his scales, hearing the ocean drum through the grains. He looked up at her; her eyes were bright and strange. "Lie with me, Shepard." She colored at his words, but settled next to him. He could hear her breathing.
He closed his eyes, narrowing his focus to the tumbling sea. "Can you feel it?" He murmured. "Can you feel the pull of the tide? The ocean calls to us."
They were quiet for a few moments. Thane could feel Shepard settle herself more firmly in the sand next to him, and he smiled. Who would have thought that he would be lying on the beach with his commander? It seemed almost surreal. Even a few months ago, he would have never thought such a thing to be possible, firstly because of the hierarchical separation between the two of them and secondly because... well, he simply hadn't really liked her in the beginning. And yet... here they were. It felt right, good, and Thane wondered how he could have expected to live the rest of his days without her companionship. If only they had not met under such dire circumstances. There were so many things he wanted to show her, and there was not nearly enough time to do so.
Her voice brought him back to her. "The stars are lovely."
"Indeed." He rumbled.
"Did you know that there's a skylight over my bed?" She said softly. "I can look up at the stars when I go to sleep. I always darken it, though. It must have been some sick Cerberus joke to include it."
Thane opened his mouth to ask why before shutting it again. Of course. Why would someone who had suffocated in space want to look out on the void? He was suddenly worried that he was asking her to do something that made her uncomfortable. "Do the stars disturb you now?"
She shook her head a little, bringing her hands up to drum her fingers along her flat stomach. "No. But I have this absurd fear that the window will crack and then... then..." Thane held his breath, waiting on a desperate edge for her to continue, to broach a subject he had not dared allowed himself to wonder about. "You know..."
She trailed off, and Thane let out an annoyed hiss before he could stop himself. He had not allowed himself to consider whether or not to ask Shepard about her… experience. It was terribly personal, something that should be between only her and the gods. But… he wanted to know. She was the only one, the only one besides those from very old tales, who had gone to the sea and come back. When thoughts of his death plagued him in the middle of the night, when all was quiet and still and his own mind forged oppressive manacles, trapping him in this broken, dying body, he had wanted to… ask. It would help so very much to know… something. Anything. Even the smallest detail would ease his mind a bit.
And Shepard, so curious, so observant, had picked up on his thoughts—he betrayed them too easily with his flushing throat, his rasping hums. "What are you thinking?"
It was wrong to ask. "It is nothing."
Thane kept his eyes trained on the night sky, but he could feel her bright little eyes on him like a physical weight. "I said that earlier and you wouldn't let me get away with it. What makes you think you can get away with it now?"
His deep rumble was almost a growl, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her wet her lips. "I am not trying to… get away… with anything. I am trying not to… pry. It is none of my business."
"I would tell you, if you asked."
He felt his resolve begin to crumble, and all he could offer was a stern "No." But it felt weak even to him.
"All you have to do is ask. I'll tell you all that I know. But I warn you that it isn't much."
Arashu preserve him from Her stubborn, infatuating siha. Thane knew he should be quiet. He shouldn't ask it. But... the gods damn him for giving in. "You..." He sighed. "You have crossed the ocean, siha. What... what was...?"
"There was nothing." Her voice was small. "Nothing at all. I remember being terrified. And then I woke up in Cerberus' lab."
That was not exactly what he was expecting. "Ah."
"That must be a dissatisfying answer. I wish I could tell you more." She let out a soft sigh. "It felt like I had just gone to sleep and woke up again. Like no time had passed at all. And now I wonder… is there nothing? Or am I just not allowed to remember? Or something else entirely?"
Thane wasn't quite sure what to say. He felt a cold weight settle in his chest, and he shivered slightly. Her answer was not comforting. If anyone was to make it safely across the sea, it would be Arashu's own. For Shepard to not see anything, feel anything… What did that mean for him? Wouldn't it be even worse for him? Such a sinner, so unworthy, a complete failure at everything the gods had tasked him with in his life.
It seemed as if every attempt he made to make this evening light and fun dissolved into discomfort and heavy conversation. He felt the blame was spread equally between them—both were naturally melancholy people, he supposed. And from this there seemed no escape—his own thoughts were dark now, and it was going to be difficult to bring himself out of this, much less to help his siha.
He brought his arms down to wrap them around himself, trying to absorb some of the warmth of the sand, when Shepard suddenly propped herself up, a hand on either side of his face, leaning over him to stare into his eyes. "Are you frightened?"
Thane blinked his surprise at her sudden movement, the serious tone in her voice. Yet her breath was still warm and sweet. "Am I frightened of what, siha?"
She frowned at his evasion. "You know."
And he did, but he did not like her for dragging it out of him. "I have long since accepted it."
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips; his gaze was drawn there. "I did too, in those last moments. But that didn't stop me from being scared shitless."
"When I think of my body's passing..." Thane paused, his chest becoming tight. "I am... resigned. I do, at times, feel... anxiety. It is the fear of the unknown, I suppose." He hesitated a moment, unwilling to go on, but her eyes were bright and her skin was flushed, and he felt that, if she could, she would be singing a song of comfort to him now.
She would always be his undoing.
And the words tumbled out of him. "Will the sea accept me even after all I have done? Will Kalahira guide me into Her embrace despite sending my love into Her arms before her time? Will... will Irikah be waiting for me? These are questions which disturb my thoughts from time to time."
"I thought I would see my family." She nodded her understanding and her head dipped lower as if in prayer, her hair almost brushing his face. He wished he could tuck it behind her ear, trail his hand down her throat. "But there was nothing. The same questions plague me. What if I don't deserve to see them again?"
He reached up instead to brush grains of sand from her shoulder, needing to touch her in that moment. "You are the only one who doubts yourself. If any awaits us beyond the sea, then surely they will be waiting for you, siha. The gods know your destiny. It was not yet your time."
She was so close. Her heat, her breath… He thought he could hear her heart beat, but it could have easily been his own. "Are you going to tell me what that means?" Her voice was a bare whisper, and he felt it march down his scales, the sound caressing him in secret, intimate ways, making him almost tremble underneath her.
He could barely respond, could barely summon the will to smile softly at her. She could have killed him in that moment, and he could not have lifted a finger to defend himself. He was helpless under her bright gaze. "Not tonight."
Her lips were parted ever so slightly, wet and shining, eyes large and swimming with secret thoughts, and Thane thought for one aching moment that she might lean forward and...
But she lay back down next to him, her hand seeking his. It was small, a strange fit, but they made it work. He let out a shuddering breath that he hadn't known he was holding. Her own words were unsteady, and he did not dare think about why that might be; it was already too much. "I think what scared me the most was that I was alone. I had no one. I won't let that happen to you."
He held her hand tighter, closing his eyes against the stars. "Thank you." The words seemed inadequate, but what else could he offer? If the gods granted him mercy, he would fall in battle to protect her, not breathe his last in a stark, bare hospital room. And Shepard, sweet, kind, lovely woman that she was… if she chose to comfort him as he performed his final duty for her, then it was more than he had any right to expect.
He heard her take a breath, and looked over in time to see a smile flit across her face. "So, this isn't the only time we'll do this, right? You said next time you'll go swimming with me. I'm going to hold you to that."
He gave a low, rumbling laugh—he had not been able to pull them completely out of melancholy, but she must have noticed his attempts over the evening and was now sweeping in at the end to finish his work. "Of course, Shepard. We should invite the whole crew. A... ah... beach party?"
This drew a laugh out of her, and he trilled his happiness. "Can you picture Mordin in a bathing suit?"
He hissed his disapproval, which made her laugh harder. "I would actually really rather not do that—my imagination is better occupied with other things."
She flashed him a wicked grin. "Hey, you're the one who suggested inviting the crew—which includes him—in the first place. Enjoy your permanent memory of that."
"I will be sure to take plenty of pictures and leave them everywhere for you to see—I would not want your inferior memory to allow you to forget."
"Yeah, that's not going to look weird at all. You, taking risque pictures of a salarian wearing next to nothing."
He could not help laughing at that, and she joined in with him, both of them chuckling on the sands like they did not have any other care in the world. In a few moments, it died down, and both of them smiled at each other in the darkness, her bright eyes meeting his in shared amusement. She shifted a little to move closer to him, and they held hands in comfortable, companionable silence as the waves tumbled in the moonlight.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was one of the chapters that I'd really looked forward to writing!
I don't thank everyone nearly enough for all the great reviews you leave for me, so I'd like to take this time to thank you for all of your kind words. Even if I don't respond personally, please know that when you take the time to review my story, it touches me very deeply. I love writing something that entertains you, and when you share your happiness with me, it makes me want to write for all of you forever! Thank you!