Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Bioware. I'd tell you what I'd do if I did… but that'd be spoilers. SPOILERS FOR MASS EFFECT 3.
This snippet takes place directly after the first conversation of FemShep with Thane and presumes a ME2 romance. I feel a huge emotional gap in how things were handled with Thane. I don't want to break canon, but I do want to fill in gaps to make myself feel better ;) This is my attempt.
The doors closed behind her and blocked out the sound and scent of the hospital. The cocoon of calm allowed Shepard to let go of the amiable expression and demeanor of ease she'd kept plastered to her face for the last hour or so. She stood by the control panel, aware enough to be grateful that she was alone, as she allowed her chaotic thoughts full rein once more.
For one moment, she was certain that she was going to draw her gun and charge back through the doors into the hospital. The staff probably wouldn't panic outright. There'd be shrieks and some people smart enough to hit the floor, but she expected confusion to be the primary reaction among those who noticed her.
He, of course, would notice her. He'd probably stand up, searching for the threat that had brought her hurtling back.
That would give her an advantage since he wouldn't suspect that she was the threat and he was her target until too late.
Thane's collar had always looked very grabbable to her and she figured it would b e easy enough to get a strong grip there. She was fully prepared to ignore any questions coming from those lips of his and drag his ass, by force, back to the Normandy with her.
He needed daily medical attention. That was something that Chakwas could easily give.
He wasn't at his best. As if his mediocre wasn't better than most people's best.
His cardiovascular system wasn't up to exertion. As if needing to be alone with him, without an audience, had to mean she wanted more from him then just his company. As if sex was all she'd valued him for. All she'd been returning for.
"I've thought of you often," he'd said calmly.
The moment was gone and common sense drowned out the impulse to terrorize the hospital.
She punched the wall by the control panel instead, pain immediately flaring in her knuckles. Cracked, likely. Damn it. Her mouth twisted in a snarl, both against the pain and the emotions that prompted such a foolish gesture. The tears that sprung to her eyes were angry. She didn't allow them to be anything else.
"We always knew it had to end."
Everything had to end. Her planet was, at this very moment ending. The universe as they knew it, in fact, could very soon be over. Did that really change anything?
She closed her eyes.
He'd seemed so at peace.
It was… probably selfish to wish he was not. That he'd rage a little more. That he'd fight. He was dying, but she didn't understand why he'd want to spend the last of his days watching the world go by from a metaphorical porch.
It was like he was already gone.
She pressed the control, choosing to return to the docks and Normandy, swallowing her pride and pain. It was alright. He was dying. If he needed to face it with peace then… it was alright. She would not take that away from him.
If anyone deserved a little bit of peace, it was him, right? She felt the fist clenched around her heart ease, ever so slightly. Besides, she had a war to fight anyway. There were visions of burning children to bat from her mind and drell embraces and reverberating timbres would not be enough to do it. Erasing that horror would take all of her anger, hate and determination brought to bear. It would take eradicating the enemy so that it could not cause such destruction ever again.
She couldn't afford the shelter of Thane's presence right now.
Her eyes narrowed as suspicion blossomed.
That was probably why he'd made it so gently clear he would not provide it.
Thane did not allow himself to watch her leave.
He believed himself to be fairly good at reading human expressions; after all they were not very different than drell. Furthermore, he believed himself to be very good at reading Shepard's expressions. Beneath the placid smiles and gentle tone he had caught the edge of something less than … pleased in her eyes.
It had indicated to him that she wouldn't likely put up with their easy conversation for much longer. He'd managed to see them through to an amiable if not completely natural ending to their time together, and she'd consciously or unconsciously respected the cue to leave.
He was fairly sure that if she'd caught him watching her leave though, the ruse would be over.
The elevator doors closed and he in turn closed his eyes.
She was alive.
He hadn't been sure of that. He had more sources of information than the local news and he knew that earth had been hit hard. He even knew that the facility she'd been held in had been destroyed.
As a result of this and the scant images the news was carrying, his dreams these past few nights had been very troubled. They were filled with memories of Irikah interspersed with Shepard's too still form on shattered concrete.
But, no. She was alive.
She was healthy too, it seemed. This was not unexpected but there had been some question in his mind. He'd been unable to talk with her or communicate at all since the military had put her under restriction six months ago. He'd been fairly certain she'd been treated well. The Alliance military were not Krogan nor were they Vorcha. Abusing one of their own was not something he had any reasonable cause to suspect.
He made sure anyway.
It gave him something do to, after all. All it had taken was a few questions here and there and, early on, a covert infiltration of the facility itself. He hadn't seen her but he'd seen her room. That was enough, he'd decided, and he left it at that.
Of course, it was likely he'd let his emotions get the better of him in that decision. It had been three months into her restriction and he wasn't sure she'd still want to see him. Perhaps she'd chosen not to respond to his communication deliberately. Perhaps the time apart had taught her what it really meant to be in love with a man so soon to die, and she'd retreated as was the wise and best course for her.
A smile touched his lips. He shouldn't have doubted her. That kiss alone, which he was certain would have stolen his breath away even if he had all his breath to give, was enough to clear all question from his mind.
It was that kiss, and the ones that had come before it, that he wanted her to remember.
Not this. Not here.
He stood up and went to the elevator. His apartment was not far and he could still walk. On bad days he had to stop twice. On good days, simply moving slowly would do.
That was a bit of a problem, since he was in no mood to stop or move slow. He had some calls to make that probably shouldn't wait. He Who Dreamt of Coral Skies was still managing most of the hits going out from the Facility. He was a reasonable person and Thane was certain it would not be hard to convince him to lend Hanar and Drell efforts towards the Alliance cause. The sooner that could be arranged the better.
Once that was done, he should track down Mouse. The citadel was going to get very crowded, very fast. It would require watching and there were certain to be challenges and opportunities presented. He had to make sure that all would be handled to the benefit of the war.
And Shepard.
She would not be without his help. He could not, would not, be beside her. All that would have accomplished would be to provide her with a front seat to his decline and give her a lifetime of horrible memories. He refused to do that to her.
But that did not mean that he would not help with every contact, every resource, and every asset he could get his hands on.
A violent fit of coughing accompanied these passionate thoughts, as if to mock him.
He wanted to be home. He wanted to sit down and close his eyes. He wanted to remember every moment of time spent with Shepard, starting from when he'd first seen her in that tower, challenging him to move, to that fierce kiss of a few moments ago. He wanted to lose himself in the reverie and let it become his reality for a time.
It wasn't the same as being with her, but he could force himself to be content with it.
He sighed and indulged in a brief moment of grief for the days with her that would never come.
Then he ignored the pain and walked faster.