"Ghosts"

The only illumination in the cabin came from the fish tank running the entire length of the room. They lay tangled together, unwilling to separate even in sleep. His arm lay over her ribs, tucking her protectively against him.

They were both still unused to sleeping together, and slight movements by one would often wake the other, but Thane would gladly put up such minor inconveniences if it meant having his siha in his arms every night. Never a heavy sleeper, he was drawn to consciousness when Shepard jerked and moaned in her sleep. A nightmare, he deduced. Drell didn't dream in the same way as humans, but they might be caught up by a traumatic memory in the same manner as human nightmares, or so he'd heard. He spread his fingers wide and stroked slowly and firmly over her side, much as one would give reassurance to a drell reliving a frightening memory.

His fingers glided easily across her skin, and he realized she was drenched in sweat. Her body tensed and arched against him as she moaned again. She uttered a low and pained "no" as she flinched away from something.

Thane frowned and searched rapidly through his memories for anything that might help him in this situation, but he came up empty. He brushed his lips across her temple, hoping that would reassure her and bring her out of her nightmare. Instead, she tensed up again as she started panting in short, shallow gasps. Her chest jerked sharply under his arm, and then she knocked it away as she reached up to claw at her throat. Her eyes flew open to stare unseeing, and the expression on her face was sheer terror.

Worried now, Thane chanced shaking her roughly to try and break her out of her nightmare. "Siha." It didn't work, and she stopped breathing altogether. "Shepard!" he yelled in her ear. "Come back to me."

Suddenly she drew in a huge gasping breath of air as the tension drained out of her body. She blinked rapidly and then started to shake uncontrollably. She turned toward him and buried her face in his chest. In the silence, he could hear the sobs she was trying desperately to suppress.

"Shhh," he soothed as he wrapped his arms around her. "It's behind you now. It is in the past. Come back to me." It was a common mantra among drell and for a second, he flashed back to Irikah saying the same thing to him while holding him close.

"I couldn't breathe," she gasped out. "I was in space...tumbling...my suit was venting. The ship was burning. I could see the planet below me. I knew...I knew..." She couldn't continue and fought to breathe through the terror of remembered death that still gripped her.

His fingers glided up her sweat-soaked spine and buried themselves in her hair. He gently massaged her scalp, seeking the same relaxation points he would on a drell. Perhaps he was successful, or maybe she simply started calming down on her own. Her breathing slowed down, but her arms tightened up around him. Something else was haunting her. "What is it, siha?"

She flinched. "Don't call me that. Not tonight."

"Talk to me, love," he urged as he continued stroking her hair and back.

He could feel her wavering and held his peace. Most people hated silence and would start talking just to fill the quiet. Shepard was no exception. When she spoke, her voice was shaky with repressed anguish. "They all died, Thane. My crew. My responsibility. I know it's not my fault. I know it." She emphasized it with a thump on his back. "But I still feel like I should have done something, that I could have saved more of them. I hate nights like this. I feel like their ghosts are hovering nearby and judging me, and there's nothing I can say to them."

"You take too much on yourself. They were soldiers, just as you are. They knew the risks."

"No. They thought they were on a wild goose chase, and in another month they'd all be back home."

He paused and considered his words. He knew what would bring him peace, but she vehemently rejected his path. Still, he only knew his truth, and he would not shy away from offering a solution to her when she was hurting so badly. "You could pray for them," he offered, not at all surprised when she stiffened in his arms.

He continued, "It is a message to the gods, a wish for the souls of the deceased to find peace. It carries our thoughts to the heavens and eases our pain by allowing a greater power to shoulder some of it for us. And if you feel their souls are still restless, do you not owe it to them to pray for an easy passage through the ocean and to the far shore?"

"There is no ocean, Thane." There was no accusation, only a weary recitation of an old argument.

"Or perhaps Kalahira kept your soul sleeping in her hands to safeguard your return. These are questions that we cannot answer. Sometimes, only faith can provide the answers we need. It can ease your pain," he added with a soft kiss to her brow.

She refused to look at him, and his heart ached for her. He knew what it was to live without faith, to rely only on oneself. It was cold and lonely, no matter how many people you surrounded yourself with. You could manage for a while, but eventually even the strongest of rocks was worn down by the trials of life. She had finally confided some of her fears to him, not just the physical memory of dying, but the deep seated fears and loss of faith she had suffered. However, the middle of the night cycle with her still shivering with remembered terror was not the time for deep theological debate. Instead, he sought for a way to be the strength she needed now.

"Those who are gone are beyond hope and fear. They are no longer of our world and never will be again." He stroked a hand down her back as she bit back a sob at his words. "Prayer is as much for the living as the dead. By praying for for their safe passage, we gain a measure of peace knowing that we have done what we can and the rest is in the hands of Kalahira."

She was listening to him. He could tell by the slight easing of her muscles even if she refused to leave the shelter of his chest. "I don't know your gods, Thane," she finally said.

He didn't smile; the situation was too serious. But he felt a tiny sliver of relief that she was at least talking to him about this, no matter how roundabout. "They are not my gods. They belong to no one. And everyone. All you need do is ask. They are always listening."

She stiffened and turned her face away from his chest and toward the mattress. "Don't try and convert me," she muttered. "One god is as useless as the next."

His hand continued its slow path up and down her back. "I do not ask you to accept my gods. But if you would like, I will offer a prayer for your fallen shipmates."

He waited patiently. The dim blue light from the fish tank shimmered across the room, reminding Thane of the inevitable journey across the ocean that everyone must make at some point.

It took longer than he thought it might, but finally he was rewarded with the barest of nods. He took another moment to compose his thoughts before he began reciting one of the oldest prayers for the dead. The words flowed easily from his mouth; he had said them many, many times before. As he spoke, he remembered holding Kolyat close, trying to soothe the tears of a child and sharing the most painful grief that two people could. That had been the last time they had been so close. He had repeated the words again when an innocent had fallen during one of his contracts. It hadn't happened often, especially after he had met Irikah, but he still keenly felt the loss of each one and his fervent belief filled his words with earnest warmth and sincerity that could not be denied by any who heard, whether of this world or the next.

He felt her listening to him, felt the tiny muscle shifts that mimicked the rise and fall of his words. The prayer he chose was in an older dialect, and he wasn't sure how much of it translated.

The last stanza fell from his lips into the silent room. In his arms, Shepard no longer trembled. Instead, she relaxed in the boneless way of one wrung out by great emotion. He pulled back to look at her and was heartened that she no longer sought to hide from him. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful. He pressed another soft kiss to her forehead. "For drell," he said, "we never truly lose those we love. They are always there in our memories. Remember them, my love. Do not let bitterness and regret ruin the love you feel for them. Do not let yourself become closed off from the new for fear of losing them, too. Loss is part of life, but it is always replaced by the new."

A soft smile touched his lips. He was holding the proof of that in his arms now. He'd been given one sublime gift and lost it through neglect and carelessness. Never in all the dark days and nights of the past decade had he ever imagined gaining something new that was as precious as what he held in his arms now.

He stroked along her back, no longer covered in sweat. She shivered, and he pulled the blanket tightly around them both. "Better?"

She nodded once. "Thank you, Thane."

That was another trait he admired in her. She might not be in a place where she could offer up her own prayers, but she wasn't so proud as to deny that listening to his had helped. "I will always be here to keep the ghosts away, my love." Knowing the fear that would bloom in her heart at his words, he added, "Even when I am gone, remember that I will live on in your memories and as part of your soul. I will never truly leave you, and I will be waiting for you beyond the sea."

She grimaced at the thought, and he kissed her softly. "Keep me close in your heart, love, as I do you. Not all ghosts are terrible. Some are angels, instead."

Her breath sighed along his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He had his own ghosts that lingered too closely on some nights, and even the comfort of prayer did not always keep them at bay, but at Shepard's side, his ghosts quieted.

Her expression softened as she nestled against his chest. He stroked her hair and crooned softly in a low register she could barely hear. "Sleep, my love. I'll watch over you. Always."