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In her quarters late that night, Shepard took the ruined helmet out of the sack she had placed it in on the shuttle, turning it in her hands, still unable to believe that she had survived a situation that had left her helmet in such a condition. Said good things for Alliance spacesuits, she supposed. And even better things for Cerberus technology. She'd have to remember to say thank you to Miranda again later.

Strange to think that two years and change ago she had been dead, that she had spent most of the intervening time essentially dead. She remembered none of it. Did that put the period on the end of an avowal of atheism, or was it simply an artifact of having been more in a coma than actually dead for most of the time?

A faint, almost hesitant, knock came at her door, startling her so that she almost dropped the helmet. "Who is it?"

"Thane."

She smiled, her heart beating faster at the sound of his voice. She hadn't been sure if she wanted company tonight, but knowing that he had cared enough to come up made her glad he had. Crossing the room, she touched the button and the door slid open.

"Siha."

"I'm glad you came up."

"I wasn't certain if you would prefer to be alone, but … in case you needed someone to talk to …"

"I always want to talk to you," she assured him, and as his face lit up she knew it was the truth. Every circumstance since she'd met him had made her want to know what he thought, curious to get his point of view.

"That's very flattering," he began, but whatever he might have said after that was lost as he saw the helmet in her hands. His eyes widened in shock. "That—that was yours?"

"Yes."

"Arashu's mercy. Siha. I—I knew, of course, but I had no idea …"

"Truthfully, neither did I. This …" She lifted the helmet, turning it in her hands. "This was a bit of a surprise."

"I can imagine it would be." Thane put his hands on her shoulders, looking searchingly into her face. "Are you certain you are all right?"

"I think so, yes. You wouldn't think I would be, but—" Shepard shrugged. "It all seems to have happened to someone else."

She led him further into the room, placing the helmet carefully on her desk, next to the face-down picture of Kaidan. Two things she'd rather not think about right now.

They took seats on opposite ends of the couch.

"How was it, seeing the wreckage?"

"Strange, as you might imagine," Shepard said. "But I think worse for Tali and Garrus than it was for me. I never even knew I was there. They lived it, they were on the ground trying to care for the wounded and dying and make sense of what happened—"

"They were there when it became apparent you weren't going to arrive."

Shepard frowned. "Yes. It's odd, because I don't question their respect for me, or their affection, but it still surprises me that my death affected everyone so deeply."

"You do not see what an impact you make; you are too busy making it."

"I suppose."

"Joker has been very much on edge all day," Thane told her. "He abused poor EDI unmercifully—even more than usual. He seems very relieved to be leaving the planet and its wreckage behind."

"I wish he didn't feel so badly about that. Actually, that was the best part of the day today."

"How so?"

"I … it's hard to explain."

"I am happy to listen, even if I can't understand."

She smiled at him. "I know. Thank you for that." Sitting forward, she looked earnestly at him. "I hadn't even known it was a question, you know, until we got down there, but … I saw the remains of the cockpit, and I thought about what the ship was like when I hauled Joker's ass out of there, on fire and falling to pieces, and I knew that I had done it, that I hadn't even hesitated—and that if I had it to do again, even if I knew I would die, I would. And I felt—I felt that made me a commander, that knowing I was willing to lay down my life for a crew member meant I had earned my position in a way that is … important to me. Does that make any sense?"

"Yes. Not that—not that I would do the same," he said honestly. "Other than my wife and my son, and … a few others over the course of my life, I am not certain I would give my life readily for another. Even now—especially now, when my remaining moments are so few and so dear to me."

"But you aren't in command. You haven't taken the responsibility of other lives on your shoulders. I have. And it set something to rest in me, knowing I would give up my life again if needed, for a member of my crew."

"I understand."

"But … it also made me think about what it was like, when I died. I don't remember it."

"Should you?"

"Well, I was thinking if … if there was more out there, something—some kind of … well, if religion is true, shouldn't I remember something from being dead?"

Thane shook his head. "Siha, you are grappling with questions that have never been satisfactorily answered. In your case, how are you to know how long you were dead as opposed to being in a coma, worked on by Cerberus? Or perhaps what occurs after death doesn't create memory."

"You believe that something happens after we die, don't you?"

"I do."

"When you pray for the wicked, who are you praying to?"

"It depends upon the circumstance. To find my target, I speak with Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. When I act to defend another, I address my prayers to Arashu, Goddess of Motherhood and Protection. And when I have my target, I speak with Kalahira, Goddess of Oceans and the Afterlife."

Shepard frowned. "Oceans and the afterlife don't seem to have much in common."

"Don't they? Consider: The ocean is full of life, yet it is not life as you and I know it. To survive there, we must release our hold on life as we know it, accept a new way to live. So it is with death. The soul must accept its departure from the body. If it can't, it will be lost."

"Did my soul accept its departure, then?"

He smiled gently at her. "I cannot imagine your soul accepting death easily, Siha. Not when you had left something undone behind. Perhaps that is why, how, Cerberus came to choose you, because your spirit could not cross the sea with its life's work unfinished."

"Cross the sea?"

"Our belief is that the soul crosses a vast sea, changing as it goes, and finds … something else on the other side."

"And when you pray for the wicked, you are asking your gods for help, to aid the soul in crossing the ocean?"

Thane nodded. "Something like that, yes."

Shepard leaned back with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "I know many people mourned me when I was gone—but I wonder … I doubt any of them prayed for me."

"I do, Siha. I pray for you every day."

"Thank you."

"I could not do otherwise."

"That's what I thank you for."

"Ah. In that case … it is my very great pleasure."

Shepard got to her feet, moving to the other side of the couch to sit next to him. She reached for his hand, and laid her head on his shoulder, feeling the solid presence of him next to her as a reminder that she was alive, and here, a circumstance she hoped never to take for granted.