Everything stank. The walls, the halls, the people. Omega isn't a pleasant place; it always smelled of smoke, debauchery and blood. Three bodies marched to the apartments; one tall and wiry, the other buxom and mature, and the last one petite but solid. After ringing the bell of one of the private residences, the door whooshes open, and the small squad is met by a grieving mother.
Thane listens and observes as Samara and Shepard spoke to her. There is pain in her eyes, and they knew it all too well. The pain of loss is something the three of them shared. As the mother began to weep, Shepard places a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze as she and Samara vowed to avenge her daughter's death. Contracts the drell assassin took were for people who made the universe a darker place, and this murderer is one of such people; he is glad to assist in this mission as much as Shepard does, bowing his head to the grieving mother solemnly as a show of respect.
Granted permission to investigate the room that belonged to Nef, the victim, the trio worked quickly. Shepard spots one of Nef's sculptures, and the mother, Diana, tells them that a man from a gallery offered her a huge sum of credits equivalent to four years of her salary. However, she will not part with it, and Shepard understood. Appreciating the sculpture with sorrow, the commander thought to herself that it's a tragedy that the galaxy won't see more from her. Despite devoting her entire adulthood to the Alliance, Shepard still loved the arts as much as she did as a young girl (and Mordin learned about that when she gave him a stunned, hundred-mile grin when he sang his scientist salarian song for her).
"Shepard, look." Thane catches her attention, picking up something between the bed and boxes. "The suspect left a note." The voice note played. The sender mentions the elcor artist Forta, and Shepard mentally takes note of this information that she can use later. Further investigating the room, she turned on the dead artist's console that happened to be her diary.
As the vids of Nef's personal logs played, Thane noticed the sudden change in Shepard's body language. Her shoulders are tenser than usual, her hand curled into a tight fist. Undoubtedly, she is furious. If he had to take a guess, she's furious because of the manipulation the victim went through. The human commander also takes note of the name Jaruut. Shepard closes the holo-journal and Samara, whose calm exterior make her unreadable as always, walks over.
"This is Morinth's work," Samara comments, prompting Shepard to turn around to face her. "She is attracted to artists and creators. Someone with a spark, slightly isolated from their peers." Crossing his arms, Thane looks at Shepard, thinking to himself that though he has doubts if Shepard fits the description of an artist or a creator, she definitely has a spark in her. The more Samara described Morinth, the more Thane found himself wary. Not for himself, but for Shepard.
When Samara suggested that Shepard goes in alone and unarmed to lure Morinth, he suspected as much, choosing to remain quiet in spite of deeming the plan too dangerous to himself.
On the way back to the Normandy to make preparations, they pause to look at a view of Omega; always dark, always dirty, always full of desperate people abused by the manipulative and powerful. "People come to places such as this seeking a better life," Samara said, taking in the view. "And when they get here, they find... this." Solemnly, she continues to gaze upon the scenery. "Vibrant people forced into destitution on a world filled with criminals. They deserve protection. If I survive your mission, I may return here." Shepard nods. "I agree. There's no future for them if we don't help."
Thane thinks back to the one time he made a hit in Omega.
"Scent of death in the air. Spilled blood gleam like ink. Omega's lights illuminate it, flickering. I cradle the broken form. Angry marks marred sandy skin. Tears fall from bloodshot eyes, staining a hopeless face. 'Please, don't hurt me.'"
The drell snaps out of the flashback, the asari and human looking at him with curious gazes. Samara wears her customary neutral expression, while Shepard is surprised. Dark eyebrows furrowed together; Thane guessed she is skeptical. "Was that a past hit you had here on Omega? I thought finding work here was difficult?" she asks him, hand on her hip. "Yes. But the ones who required me were not from Omega."
"I see. I assume this person is the target?" Shepard asks, folding her arms together. "No."
Shepard makes an indiscernible face at his short response, and mentally notes to ask him more about this in another time.
Aboard the Normandy, Shepard went straight to Mordin, saying that she needs to ask him to look up the drug Morinth likes to give her victims. Samara returned to the port observation to meditate, preparing herself mentally for the mission they will undertake, and Thane went straight to the shuttle bay for exercise, taking his waistcoat and vest off as soon as the elevator opens. He needs to keep his blood pumping, as recommended by his doctors, including Doctor Chakwas.
Keeping himself fit wasn't his only objective; he needed to release his emotions. Knowing Samara will be sending Shepard to a dangerous pursuit unarmed and alone, he is perturbed; furious even, hidden under a mask of calmness and confidence. One punch, two punches, a quick sweep of the leg, and a low elbow… he continued until his heart hammered against his ribcage. As his sharp blows cut the air, he found himself thinking that he should be luring this predator out, not Shepard. Intending to resume his regimen some other time, he slings his discarded clothes over his shoulder and makes his way to the men's restroom to cool down, scales and temper overheated. Drell evolved to survive the harsh heat of Rakhana, explaining why they need to wear warm leathers in cooler places their bodies are not adapted to, but they still need to cool down when it gets too warm to be comfortable.
Unexpectedly, as the doors open to the third deck, Shepard stands in his way. It took a minute, but as the shirtless drell, with scales still gleaming and a disquieted expression in his face, registers to her view, a surprised expression replaces her neutral one. Still a woman at heart despite her boyish mannerisms while in the field, being a hardened Alliance marine who shared showers with men and women alike, being the woman who stopped Saren, and being the Savior of the Citadel, color spreads to her cheeks, and her expression can only be described as embarrassed.
"Thane."
"Siha," Thane replies, suddenly conscious of his half-naked body. He registers Shepard's eyes making a quick sweep over his form before she coughed, breaking the tension. "I didn't know drell had stripes," she comments, entering the elevator. She pressed the close button and faced him, asking "What floor?"
Lightning-fast reflexes kicking in, the drell holds her hand to stop her from pressing any buttons, making her gasp in astonishment. Thane is awestruck on how thin and smooth her skin was and tries his best to hold back rubbing a thumb on it; drell skin is thicker than a human's, covered in scales and built to protect against Rakhana's sandstorms and harsh sun, whereas human skin is thin, unarmored, almost fragile, and easily broken with small pricks and cuts. Though he killed some humans during his time under the Compact, he never lingered on their skin, partly due to the adrenaline pumping in him during a kill, and partly due to his professionalism. The last time I touched a human and lingered was when-
Train of thought thankfully disrupted before he slipped into solipsism, onyx brown eyes make contact with obsidian pools, their gazes holding. Realizing that his hand had been lingering on her skin far too long, she gives him a faint smirk. The drell wasn't sure if his heartrate is still rapid due to the workout, or if it's because of the human woman before him, smiling at him and expressing no displeasure from his touch. "I'm glad I'm not the only one curious about what another species' skin feels like," she laughs. Thane blinks in surprise, and his hand flies off of hers.
"Apologies."
"It's okay."
'Okay'? Is that an acceptance of my apology, or an invitation to touch her more?
Inwardly, he reels at his thoughts, concluding that he's making assumptions and that she's merely forgiving him. "What floor?" Shepard asks again.
Now that she's here, he doesn't want to get off, but he will not admit that. "I was meaning to go out on this floor, but now that you're here, there is something I wish to say."
Shepard cocked a brow. "Maybe we can talk in life support, after I freshen up? I need to wash off Omega's smell off of me. It clings like a needy ex-girlfriend," she replies. Her reply makes the drell chuckle a little, the double tremor of his voice pronounced as it rumbled from his chest. "Of course, Siha. I will not keep you."
Her only response is a smile.
Opening the elevator doors, he steps out, and lets a steady stream of cold water hit him in the men's bathroom, Kepral's Syndrome be damned, pondering if the heat he felt at the moment is still because of his workout, or if it is because of the siha who gave him back his son and made his sluggish heart beat faster when she smiles at him. At the thought of her, he felt the frills on his cheek engorge and turn a brighter shade of red, and he quickly let the water come in contact with his face to dampen his reaction. He isn't going to face the justicar, then his siha, in this state.
His footsteps are silent, but nonetheless, Samara detected his presence. "Thane Krios. Join me."
Sitting down beside the asari justicar, Thane gazes out to the void before them. Twinkling stars are the only things illuminating the room; he found them comforting. "I am curious to know about the person in the memory you blurted out earlier," Samara says after a few minutes of silence.
"Cold hand reaches for my face. I step over the corpses with the dancer in my arms. I look at one. Stab wounds clean coming from someone weakened. "Amonkira must have been guiding you tonight." Her body lies at the back of my shuttle. Broken and small in a peaceful repose. 'I am sorry for not making it sooner.'"
"That person is a dancer, who was victimized by a target that I tracked in Omega," Thane says as he snaps away from the memory. "I nursed her for a night. Left the next morning before she awakened."
"I see."
Silence.
"I can sense a disturbance in your aura, Thane. Is there something you wish to discuss?" Samara asks.
"I need to speak to you about Shepard," he replies. He had stopped looking out the void to look at the justicar.
"I assume this has to do with our hunt for the ardat-yakshi," Samara calmly responds, eyes still looking distantly into the stars. "You can't change my mind."
Thane suspected she will be firm about this, but he tried to convince her nonetheless. "I should lure her out. Risking Shepard is a risk to our mission involving the Collectors. I am a dying man. Losing me to the ardat-yakshi will have lesser effect on the mission than losing Shepard," Thane explains, hoping that the justicar will find it logical.
"You said this Morinth is drawn to artists, and people slightly isolated from their peers. Killing is an art, and I am a master. I spent my last ten years alone. Use me as bait."
"A generous offer," the asari replies, the light in her eyes dying as she stood up. Thane follows suit. The move closer to the window, two figures illuminated by a sea of stars.
"However, you lack the vulnerability Shepard exudes, and Morinth can exploit," Samara clarifies. "You are desirable in many regards, but Morinth will not find a grounded man appealing."
Thane basks in a moment of self-reflection. "I see."
The asari pauses to look at the drell in the eyes. "Rest assured that I will take full responsibility should harm come to her. My code compels me to protect the innocent," Samara explains. "And Shepard is an innocent. If she dies by Morinth's hand, I am to blame for sending her to her death."
It did not comfort Thane in the slightest.
"I will understand your decision to hate me if the woman you love dies," Samara continues, looking back to the stars as a subtle smile tugged on her lips. "So I shall prepare, and pray to the Goddess for guidance."
The words shatter him with the force of a bullet. Love Shepard?
…perhaps he does. Thane loves Shepard.
"I hunted the people responsible for my wife's death," Thane states firmly, already deep voice dropping an octave lower as he spoke. Samara saw the implications of his words.
"I will pray to Amonkira that your hunt be successful, and mine, if my first prayer has not been heard."