AN: This is just a drabble I thought of one night while drinking my own tea. Please R/R! Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect, Bioware, etc etc.

Thane was always in Life Support – drinking tea, retreating into an unknown memory. I don't know why I tortured myself like this every night. I wanted our friendship to be something more, but he was consumed with Irikah, as if she was still right next to him, holding his hand and leaning into his embrace. So, I contented myself with chats; chats about work, missions, requisitions. He listened to every word I said. Why he listened to every word I said, I had no idea.

"Shepard," he said, just as the door swished open into Life Support.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You are the only one who comes to visit." I thought I heard a small rumble from his chest. Drell also communicated in subharmonics, like Turians, but even my implants had their limits.

"I – I can come by some other time," I stammered. Jesus, I wasn't a teenager. Why was I stuttering like an idiot?

"No, you misunderstand. I enjoy your company." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I find that I have grown fond of our...chats."

My face grew warm, and my chest tightened. "I enjoy your company too."

"Spending time with you has made me reconsider my place in the galaxy, now that we are so close to the completion of our objectives."

"What do you mean?" I took a sip of my tea and immediately let it flow back into my cup. Yep, I wouldn't taste anything for a few days. Stupid Granger kept the teapot too hot.

"I never imagined that I would have anyone to mourn me when I die. You are the first friend I have made in 10 years." He took a sip and swallowed daintily.

For once, I was speechless. My chest tightened again, and I could feel my heart thudding out of control. "Friends?" I squeaked. "That's a start."

"Indeed?" he asked, raising one brow ridge. "How...intriguing."

We sat in silence, drinking our tea. What was I supposed to say to that? I thought he disliked the irritating robo-Commander and wanted to be left to his own devices, and that my incessant chats were his low point of the day. Now I needed to rethink my entire approach.

His tea smelled really good. "What are you drinking?"

He took another sip. "A blend of tea from the monks of Amonkira. It may be too spicy for human consumption, but if you would like, you may have a sip."

Oooh, I couldn't pass this up. It smelled heavily of cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, Christmas, warmth, gingerbread, and it really, really made me miss my family. "Oh, this brings back memories." I took a sip. Oh, it burned. It really, really burned. But it was a good kind of pain, the kind that went away with eggnog and mince pies.

"Would you share your memories with me?"

I looked up, my own tea halfway to my mouth. "Humans have imperfect memories. I don't know how… coherent… it'll be."

"Try, siha."

I think my translator just glitched, but said nothing. I took his cup back and smelled it again, holding in the smell and feeling as much as I could. "My parents both served in the Alliance when I was a kid, and they never served together because of fraternization regulations. Dad worked on Arcturus station, and mom was always afloat. But, at Christmastime, they both had leave at the same time..."

"Amelia! You get back here this instant!"

I loved being chased by my father. We had two weeks of leave every Christmas, and it was the only time I saw them both at once. This year, we went to Earth to see my dad's parents in Alaska, and I couldn't sit still in my seat. The shuttle from orbit was descending into Vancouver, where we would take a second shuttle to Fairbanks.

A Lieutenant caught me and sent me back to my dad with a glare and a pat on the back. No one could be truly angry with a six year old girl with rare, naturally blond hair while wearing a festive Christmas dress. I was cute, and took undue advantage of everyone.

But, the long trip wore me out, and I was asleep in my father's arms by the time we landed in Fairbanks. My grandparent's house was on the outskirts of town, on the banks of a river. They had a bush plane and a runway in their backyard in case we needed to go somewhere and it was too snowy to drive. Temperatures could reach around -40ºF when it became really cold, so we stayed indoors.

Mom was an extraordinary baker. She was a fearsome Commander, but for me, she would bake cookies, pies, candies, tarts, whatever she could get her hands on during Christmas. That year, we made a gingerbread house, and Dad allowed me to eat the little red-hots that went on the roof.

"Red hots?" he asked.

"It's a small Earth candy. The dots are smaller than my fingernail, and full of cinnamon and pepper. Usually they're used for decoration or an ice cream topping, but they can be eaten by themselves. They burned, like your tea," I explained. "It was a good kind of burn."

"A good kind of burn? How so?"

I ran to dad, crying, my tongue lolling out of my mouth like a puppy, my eyes screwed up tight. He laughed at me and gave me a cup of eggnog from the carton in the fridge. The milk helped my tongue, even though that was spicy too. It was a milky, nutmeg kind of spice that coated my tongue, stopping the burning. Later that night, I did it again, just so he could give me another sip of his eggnog.

For two weeks, this became our routine. I would pick off the red hots, chew them until my tongue burned like fire, and then run to my parents in mock tears to get some eggnog or mince pies. Dad knew what I was doing, but it became a sort of tradition.

"And does your father continue this tradition?"

I looked down into my tea, noticing a few pieces of chamomile that escaped the tea bag.

"Oh, I see. I am sorry, Siha."

"It's ok," I said, voice shaking. "It was a long time ago." I stood up and picked off an invisible piece of lint from my uniform. "I should go."

"Siha." He grabbed my hand. I looked up in surprise. "If you ever need… I will be here, always."

My thumb lightly brushed over the scales of his hand. "Thanks, Thane. Maybe I'll come back later."

I'm such an idiot! He wanted to spend time with me, wanted me to share something of myself that only he could really appreciate. And what happens? At the mere memory of my dead father I start moping.

I punched the button for my cabin in the elevator and rested my head against the wall as it traveled. Emotions were exhausting. His death was so long ago that I imagined it no longer bothered me. Maybe…

"EDI, could you connect me to the SSV Kilimanjaro on a secure channel?"

"Of course, Shepard. Who would you like to connect to?"

"Captain Hannah Shepard."

"One moment, Commander."

The vidscreen lit up, and I was greeted with the worried, but smiling, face of my mom.

"Honey? What's wrong?" she asked. "You know we can't talk on these channels."

I began to tear up and sniffed once, loudly. "Oh, sweetie. It's okay."

"No it's not, mom! I – I miss dad. I was talking to a friend about our Christmas holidays, and then I…" I trailed off, sniffing. My eyes were wet, and I felt really stupid.

"I miss him too. Next time you're near Arcturus, let me know and I'll send a shuttle to the Normandy. We'll catch up, okay?"

I sniffed again and rubbed the tears out of my eyes. I was six years old all over again. "Co-commanders aren't supposed to cry," I stuttered. Maybe it was the stress of the mission, or the constant need to keep the ship and its crew functioning as one, but I felt broken. One long-past memory finally broke the emotional dam I erected to keep my Commander Shepard persona firmly intact.

"Baby girl, Captains cry all the time – we just don't show our subordinates. It's okay. I miss you and love you, sweetie. And I am so, so very proud of you."

"I miss you too, mom. Love you." And the vidscreen went blank. A two minute call, but it was exactly what I needed.

I splashed water on my face to try to erase my shame, but it only made my eyes more red and puffy. I changed out of my uniform. Yoga pants and a long, thin black t-shirt was all I needed to be comfortable for the rest of the evening, but I zipped up my Cerberus hoodie just in case. Maybe Granger left the kettle on downstairs so I could get another cup of tea before bed.

"Commander, Sere Krios is seeking entrance to your cabin."

I facepalmed. The one person I was ashamed to see was coming to check up on me. How...sweet. "Let him in, EDI."

Thane walked with slow, but deliberate, strides, carrying two mugs in his hands. "What can I do for you, Thane?"

"I brought you some tea," he said, putting down the mug on the coffee table. He looked at me carefully, his large eyes memorizing everything there was to know about my face. It was uncomfortable. What if I had snot coming out of my nose? Were my eyes still puffy? "Are you ok, siha?"

"I think my translator just glitched. Siha?"

The corners of his lips quirked and he took a sip of his tea. "One day, I will tell you what that means."

"Is it a good thing?"

"Yes, and very befitting of you."

I sniffed once more, trying to smile, and gestured to the couch. "I can stay up awhile longer, if you'd like."

He sat down, relaxed, one arm over the back of the couch, his legs crossed, and his other hand holding the mug of tea against his leg. "May I say something without sounding too forward?"

"Of course."

"I was worried about you. I'm sorry I caused you such pain."

I took a sip of my tea. It was his tea, from the monks of Amonkira, but with milk. "Thane, this –"

"Is my way of apologizing to you and wishing for you to have good memories." I sipped it, and the cinnamon burned my tongue, but not enough to really hurt.

"It's a good hurt. And thank you." I took another sip. "For the tea, I mean. And you. Thanks for being you."

It was the first time I saw him truly smile, and it was worth it.