The thing about dying was all the little things that changed. The largest changes, her eyes, her scars and the cybernetic heavy tissue weaves that Cerberus had used to rebuild her all came with their unique types of baggage. The scars really did not bother her overmuch, beyond the chilling memories of death they sometimes invoked. She had been covered with scars for most of her life and gotten used to it. Her tissue weaves turned out to be a blessing, making her stronger and more solid, sharpened her combat skills intensely. She had smashed a geth open from temple to temple with a fierce elbow, had taken more damage then she could have imagined and recovered with nothing more than a swab of medigel and a few long seconds huddled under cover. Although both were a constant in her life, they did not weigh on her thoughts overmuch.
Her eyes were a different matter. Yes they were strange, eerie, with their ring of orange lights encircling the lenses that had replaced her irises. They made people uncomfortable, which had been useful at times but was mostly just annoying. That was the biggest thing, the way that people reacted to them. The little things about them, however, were what made them difficult to live with. For example, she had never quite adjusted to the differentness of mechanical sight. Everything was eternally clear, edges sharply rendered and always in perfect focus. This should also have been a blessing, but when she strove to escape from the world it proved to be a curse.
Currently, the light Doctor Chakwas was shining into her eye was being projected back into her skull with such perfect clarity that she could examine the wires of the bulb; see the tiny currents of power pulsing through it as it pierced her brain like a burning spear. Her eyes watered, which was actually a relief as it softened the intensity of her sight. She could feel her jaw lock in sudden, mostly unprovoked, anger as the doctor sucked a quick intake of breath through her teeth, the sound she always made to signal intense displeasure.
"I'm a doctor, not a mechanic Commander." She sat down in her regular chair and folded her hands as her usually mild, friendly eyes bored holes in her sullen patient. "Tell me again what the problem is."
Shepard growled, running her fingers through her sweat dampened hair. She felt like she had explained this a dozen times already and her aggressive migraine was not helping her stay calm and collected. "My eyes hurt every time I try to focus on something." She reported through gritted teeth. "It's like a nail stabbing me. And these eyes are mechanical so, you know, they are ALWAYS trying to focus on something. Now, because of this, my head feels like it is about to explode."
Chakwas nodded, so calm and composed that it made Shepard squirm with impatient fury. What she would not give for a violent mercenary to gun down right now, or a firing range or a goddamn punching bag or something that she upon which could unleash the seething frustration that was consuming her mind.
"I see. And when was the last time you slept Commander?" The doctor sounded angry, more angry than Shepard had ever heard her before and her gaze snapped up, narrowing on her slim form where it reclined with counterfeit relaxation in her seat. She could see the tension in her locked jaw and the frosty depths of her usually mild eyes.
"What does that have to do with this?" Shepard snapped. This topic brought back memories of her conversation with Thane, where he had insisted she go and do just this. After that talk their comfort levels had... dropped. Their silences were no longer relaxed and natural, but full of strained emotions that neither of them apparently wanted to address. She had gone to see him once since, and retreated from the room not five minutes later, feeling hurt and confused and angry. She buried her face in her hands at the poisonous look the doctor gave her, and closed her eyes when they tried to focus on the creases of her palms. They burned behind her eyelids and her headache grew worse, pounding back and forth through her skull. "Two days ago."
"Fifty six hours, thirty seven minutes ago." EDI corrected her from the console. She shot the faceless orb a look that could have melted steel and it vanished a second later. No such luck banishing the angry doctor, however.
"Really, Commander." She sighed, getting up and heading to her medicine cabinet. She started picking through various pill bottles and vials, selecting a couple and bringing them back to the table. "And at what point did you receive the head injury that made you believe you did not need to seek medical attention after a day and a half of this?"
"It's just insomnia." Shepard moaned from the dark, protective cave her hands had made. "I can handle it."
"Yes, I can see that." Chakwas replied, coldly. "The pain in your eyes is being caused by dryness. The organic tissues aren't getting the mandatory resting period that sleep provides, and it`s dried them out so bad that the movement of your mechanical components is aggravating them. Your corneas are so red and swollen it's a miracle you can see at all."
"Yeah, lucky me." Shepard grumbled, for some reason the term 'mechanical components' had made her even more irritated. "So eye drops are going to take care of this then?"
"No, eye drops are NOT going to take care of this." Doctor Chakwas snapped, turning around abruptly with the pill bottle rattling in one hand. Shepard flinched away from the sound like it had struck her. "Sleep will take care of this. I am going to give you a weeks' worth of Tropimine and you are going to excuse yourself from duty, go to your quarters immediately and not emerge for a minimum of twelve hours or god help me I will flay you alive."
That, at least, made Shepard look up, one blood shot eye peering through her fingers as the doctor brandished the pill bottle at her as though it were a weapon. "What about 'first do no harm'?" She asked.
"Hippocrates will forgive me. I'm sure he never had to deal with anyone who was as much of a stubborn ass as you are." The doctor grumbled, marching over and shoving the bottle into her hands. "Bed. Now."
"I don't want to take medication." Shepard complained, standing up. The pressure in her head was building, stretching her eardrums so tight she could feel them pulsing in time with her heart. The world blurred and swam, like she was looking at it from underwater. The doctor raised one eyebrow in her direction, as though she had never heard that before.
"Are blinding headaches and aching eyes preferable in some way?" She asked, leaning back against her desk.
"No. Look, couldn't you just give me something to moisten my eyes? And something for the headache?" She asked, knowing it was not going to get her anywhere, but determined to try anyway. The doctor shook her head in disbelief.
"Are painkillers somehow more ethical then sleeping pills in this little world you've made yourself?" She asked.
Shepard sighed, running her fingers through her hair again and keeping her eyes closed where it was at least marginally less painful. She ran her hand down to her pounding temples as she tried to form a response that made sense, something that was excruciatingly difficult at the moment. "I don't know. Taking sleeping aids seems like it's too close to my aversion to the idea that someday I'll have to take pills to be happy. I... there are a lot of times I got really close to that. It... frightens me."
Chakwas softened at that, her posture becoming less rigid and took a step forward, putting her hand on her shoulder. Shepard sighed deeper, seeming to collapse into herself slightly, her shoulders hunching as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She could feel the lenses, hard and sharp, grinding into the softer tissues around them.
"Shepard, I understand. I really do. But what you are doing right now is unhealthy, not just for yourself but for the whole crew. We're all worried about you; we're all distracted because of it. You just told Aria T'Loak to warn every criminal in the Terminus Systems that the Normandy is coming to get them, that you're going to do the impossible one more time and that nothing can stop you. If you continue on like this..." She did not finish that thought, but then she did not have to, and instead gave the shoulder of the formidable woman at her side a comforting squeeze before she pressed a bottle of eye drops into her other hand.
"These will take the swelling down and make it easier to sleep. But they aren't a cure for what's going on."
Shepard paused for a long moment and then nodded, slowly. Her slumped shoulders straightened as she inhaled deeply, trying to focus her thoughts. The doctor was right of course, just as Thane had been right, just as everyone who had recommended sleep had been right about everything. And she really could not tolerate this headache for another hour without some sort of relief.
"Okay." She said finally, uncapping the eye drops and immediately squeezing a couple drops into each eye. The relief of their cooling, soothing medicine made her eyes fill with grateful tears, they began rolling down her face as she uncapped the pill bottle and dry swallowed two of the aquamarine tablets. Chakwas smiled brightly at her, her own relief obvious.
"Now go to bed, Shepard. And I meant it, twelve hours and not a minute less." Shepard made a face at the thought of wasting that much time but knew better than to argue. "If I thought I could force you, I would say sixteen. Now go."
She went. By the time she reached the elevator she could already feel sleep tugging insistently at the back of her eyelids, making her head hang heavy on her straining neck. She would need a chiropractor to get these knots out, to loosen her shoulders and arms enough to make her ready for combat. That seemed suddenly insignificant as she moved upward, her world swimming in and out of focus for the first time she could remember since she died. Even the mechanical eyes had limits it seemed, her advancing rest overcoming their mechanical precision.
It seemed to take hours for the elevator to reach her quarters. She slumped through the door, tried vainly to kick out of her shoes on her way to the bed and almost fell down the short flight of stairs to the sunken living area. When she hit the bed, face down in a pillow, still fully clothed with one shoe hanging half-off her foot she was asleep instantly. She slept for sixteen hours.
Later, as she headed down to the mess hall for some much needed food, she had no idea which meal was closest; she could feel the intense pressure and tension already beginning to melt away. Her shoulders relaxed away from her ears, her thoughts were clearer, if slightly foggy from so much sleep, and her entire body felt less stretched, less tense. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned, her rest having provided at least some relief from the bone crushing stress of her day to day life.
"Commander! You're looking less like a zombie this morning!" Rupert called from the kitchen. Clouds of fragrant steam billowed around his reddened face as he flipped vegetable filled omelet's. She leaned over the counter inhaling deeply, as her stomach rumbled its approval. Her lack of sleep had conincided directly with an extreme loss in appetite. She felt like she hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Feel less like one too." She grinned. "So you won't need the pitchforks and torches."
"You're thinking of ogres. A shotgun will take care of a zombie just fine." Rupert replied, filling a plate with eggs cooked with sundried tomatoes and roasted peppers. Her stomach was hurting with its need and she retreated to the table where she stuffed her face silently, only nodding at the various crew members as they passed through on their way to their own breakfasts. All of them seemed glad to see her, genuinely glad. They sat around her, rather than in their own group close by like they usually did. Although she was too busy eating to pitch in, their conversation was warm and natural, flowing around her. Donnely was wrestling with Gabby, trying to headlock her and Kelly talked on and on about some vid the majority of the crew seemed to watch religiously. She was amazed to find herself relaxing in their presence, feeling somewhat at home. When she sat back, full and rested for the first time in days she found that her limitless energy had returned, making everything clear.
Of course, she had some business to take care of first. Dirty, unpleasant business that would no doubt sap the majority of this renewed energy and clarity. Shepard had to do something she absolutely hated to do, even though she knew it was conceited of her to feel that way. She had to apologize.
She readied herself outside the life support room, shaking her fingers out and smoothing the wrinkles of her uniform. Heat was building up her neck, disturbing the perfect purposeful energy running through her. It was, at this point, less about the apology itself and more about how completely stupid she felt about the way she had reacted to his concern, brushed him off like an annoyance. She had been completely out of line and he had borne it all with a serenity she did not believe had been entirely authentic. She felt like the biggest dick in the Terminus systems was the thing, and was not entirely sure how to communicate it.
"Siha." He greeted her quietly, glancing at her over his shoulder. He seemed to study her for a long moment, on the verge of saying something, and then relaxed slightly. He nodded to her usual seat and she sat, lacing her fingers together in front of her at the table to keep herself from fidgeting. A moment of silence passed as she groped for something to start the conversation with. She really should have thought this out a little better.
"I'm sorry." She said finally. Might as well start at the beginning. "I was an ass."
There was a moment of silence before she could look up and see his baffled expression. He cleared his throat after a moment and shifted slightly in his seat. His chest was no longer ensconced in bandages as the muscle tissues knit themselves back together. He looked perfectly normal, in fact, as though nothing had happened at all. She wondered how he was feeling under all that normality, but now was not the time to ask that question.
"I am not as familiar with human colloquialism as I should be. You were a what?" Her eyes shot back up to his face and she grinned like a fool, realizing what he had heard.
"Sorry." She rubbed the back of her neck, sobering slightly as she tried to find another way to say what she meant. "I meant... I was out of line. I was just..." She struggled for words. It was so hard to put herself back in that mind set now, feverish from lack of rest, all her thoughts crashing into each other.
"You were being irrational because you were too tired to think straight." Thane supplied for her, his face and voice soothing and calm. "I understood then, as I understand now. Your apology is gladly accepted."
"Oh." Shepard replied dumbly, her face blank as she absorbed that. A frown furrowed her brow after a moment, not of anger but of confusion. She quirked her lips in a fashion that made Thane smile, a blush of sudden expression across his normally stoic face. "That was... easy."
"I could force us through the awkward explanation part if you wish." Thane offered graciously and she quickly shook her head no. Again, that small smile, lingering on his full lips as he lowered his hands from their usual tent in front of him.
"I like easy. I just thought that you were... you know. Mad at me." The words limped off her tongue, feeling pathetic the moment she said them. She had been so worried that he would reject her apology after the way their comfortable relationship had fallen apart after that awkward conversation. Now after that completely reasonable response she felt like she was back in Command School, where dramatic fights had been the chief source of cheap entertainment, usually only requiring the purchase of a middling amount of alcohol.
"No, I wasn't angry." Thane shook his head slightly, something he almost never did. "But I also did not wish to be around you while you were still being... an ass." He smiled. "I like this statement. I think I'll use it more often."
"I hope I won't give you a reason to." She replied, relaxing a little as she felt a weight lift out of the room. It really was that simple, a short conversation, a few moments of uncomfortable tension and suddenly there was no more problems. They were back to being them. She could barely believe it, and ran one hand through her slowly lengthening curls as she smiled gratefully.
"I'm sure someone will." He replied and Shepard looked up at him, at the obvious pleasure shining out of his dark eyes.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, scooting forward on her seat and leaning on the table with her elbows. Thane smiled at her concern and reached out, his hand sliding over hers. It was becoming a common gesture between them and after a moment she flipped her hand over under his, touching her palm to his.
"I feel... amazing." He said, as though all other words failed him. "I am awake again, and now my life has been extended. And though I have no idea how long, and I'm not entirely sure whether Mordin does either, my breath comes without pain. Life is sweeter, and no matter what my exact time may be that alone makes all the difference."
His fingers moved against her hand, tracing the side of her thumb and the delicate tendons of her wrist. She shivered, his skin warm and smooth under her own slightly hesitant probing, softer on the underside of his wrist then his palm.
"I can tell." She replied, honestly, glancing down at their hands and then back at up at him. He was still smiling at her, though it had changed from the expression of his sudden renewal to something more playful, his dark eyes staring into hers. She was horrified to feel a blush prickling suddenly across her cheeks, darkening her dusty golden skin. To her continuing horror, he noticed.
"I continued to be baffled by human expression." He mused quietly, lifting his other hand and hesitating slightly before he touched her face. His thumb brushed the line of heat and color where it lay along her high cheekbones and it darkened slightly. "What is this called?"
"Blushing." Shepard almost blurted her answer, her stomach fluttering with that warmth, the spreading heat that was returning full force once more. She had forgotten it, along with pretty much everything else, during her long days of sleeplessness. Now, she was glad she was sitting already, unsure if her legs could be trusted to hold her up. "It happens when we're embarrassed, or uncomfortable, or nervous, pretty much all the time really, but I guess I wear a helmet a lot which is why you've never noticed before."
She realized she was babbling and closed her mouth with enough force to make her teeth click. Thane's touch lightened, as though he were on the verge of pulling away.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly. The many meanings of his eyes escaped her, she could not tell exactly what he was thinking, what he wanted to hear. She shook her head slightly no.
"You're probably the only person who never makes me uncomfortable, Rama." It was the first time she had tried to drop that name into conversation and he smiled at it, his affection suddenly clear. "I'm about as nervous as I've ever been. But..." She stopped short of asking him not to stop, her mouth suddenly dry. He did not seem to need her to finish.
"I'm not sure what to do. I've been... hesitant to go on the extranet for this." He made an apprehensive face and she nodded her complete understanding. She leaned her head to the side, into his hand slightly and he ran his fingers back, into her hair and starting slightly at the unexpected texture. "I don't want to hurt you." He said softly.
"We'll figure it out." She replied. "Even if it means looking at some things that can't be unlooked."
He smiled at her, still running the thick curls gathering at the base of her neck through his curious fingers. She ran her hand further up his arm, pushing aside the leather sleeve of his jacket. The thick black patterns on his skin started to thin as they moved up toward his elbow, lines breaking away and shooting jaggedly across his muscled forearms. His hand traced the curve of her neck lightly, feeling her heartbeat and then her shoulder and down her other arm. It was intensely intimate, despite the relative chastity of the action, his deft hands and eyes picking out every miniscule reaction to his touch. As goosebumps rose along her arm he chuckled, actually chuckled, and ran the pads of his fingers across them.
"What?" She asked, tracing the forked patterns of his skin with her fingers.
"You have such a strange anatomy." He grinned. "I've never looked so closely or realized how sensitive to touch humans are. It's interesting."
"You sound like Mordin." She said, moving her hand up, across his leathered arm to the folds of warm skin that framed the vibrant red skin of his throat and neck.
"Then I am very, very sorry." He replied. He traced her elbow as she explored his neck, the hard ridges that descended down his throat and then the surprisingly soft folds of skin that she realized had no scales at all. She pressed gently, and felt firm cartilage under her fingers. Not as vulnerable as she had thought, then. She ran her hand up, across his cheeks, completely smooth under her fingers, and across his likewise immaculate forehead. Here he seemed completely without texture, protected from everything by scales like steel. She could still feel the warmth of him through all that hardness though, and slid her hand around to rest on the back of his neck.
"I guess I have some research to do." She said, a faint blush touching her cheeks again. He nodded, mute but still with that maddening smile. She dropped her hands back to the table and a moment later he did the same, running both hands down her fingers before they broke contact.
"I shall do some as well. No point in only one of us suffering through Fornax articles and," he coughed lightly into his hand, "visual aids. I shall endeavor to be more well-informed next time we speak."
She stood and hesitated a moment before folding her hands behind her back. "I'm not sure how fast I want to take this." She admitted, feeling the need to make herself clear on this one matter.
"Neither am I, Siha." Thane replied. "But it would be best to be prepared, would it not?"
She smiled, feeling another blush beginning to build and nodded before heading toward the door so he did not see it. Even without glancing over her shoulder, she doubted she had prevented anything. Thane was too damn observant for his own good. Once outside she decided to take advantage of the remainder of the full twenty four hours of leave she had taken in order to recover and head up to her room.
She had some research to do.