Thane's resolve waivered as the lift stopped at the level of Shepard's cabin. The light on the outside was green, meaning that the door was not locked, and he had no doubt that EDI would have locked him out had Shepard demanded to be left in piece, but that didn't change the fact that he was unsure of how she would take his suddenly showing up unannounced. He almost resolved to go find Kasumi or Tali, or someone else less burdened with their own problems to speak with, but a flash of memory hit him.
"Why didn't you spend more time with her?" Shepard asks, speaking of Irikah. He does not meet her eyes, not wanting her to see the pain he feels, afraid of the judgement he is sure to find there.
"I was afraid," he answers, "Afraid of her seeing what I truly was, of bringing my work home with me… Not that it made a difference, in the end." She places a hand over his, comforting, her skin warm and welcome.
"Do you regret not being with her when you had the chance?" Her blue-green eyes peer at him, questioning, staring into his soul. There is no judgement there, only pure friendship, comfort, and acceptance.
"Every day." He responds.
He was not going to regret missing his chance to be with Shepard. The gods had blessed him with this second chance, and he was going to take it, suicide mission or no. He cleared his throat, and was about to press the door buzzer, when the door slid open. He suspected that EDI might have had something to do with it, but he wasn't about to question why the AI would be helping him. He had always suspected that she felt more for the Normandy's crew than she let on. He stepped into the commander's quarters.
Shepard was seated at the table in the bedroom area of her quarters, reading over something on a datapad. He felt his heart twist as she looked up and said his name, her concern for him evident in her voice.
"Siha, I-" he tried to start explaining himself, why he was there, but found the words difficult to wrap his mouth around, "I have known I will die for many years," he began pacing back and forth, not willing, or perhaps not able, to look her in the eye as he spoke what he was feeling, "I've tried to leave the galaxy better than I found it. You've helped me achieve more than I thought possible. We've righted many wrongs…" He paused, and took a brief moment to try and steady himself before continuing, "I've spoken to my son." He turned back to her, aware that his anger with himself was written on his face, "I should be at peace on the eve of battle." She was already standing, holding her hand out to his chest to halt him, moving to stand in front of him, her hand on his arm.
"Stop," she said, her voice comforting, "Don't give me a speech." Her words gave him the courage to say what felt.
"I'm ashamed," he said. She moved her hand to caress his face, but he pulled it away, turning from her. He didn't deserve her comfort, pity, or love. She was a warrior angel, unafraid in the face of any enemy, and he was a coward. As he felt tears spilling free and streaking down his face, his anger at himself was too much. He wanted to hit himself, to shake some semblance of courage out of his heart. He pounded his fist down into the table, unable to do anything more. "I've worked so hard," he said, "Meditated and prayed and done good deeds. Atoned for the evils I've done. Prepared." His voice shuddered with emotion, and his hand was shaking where he rested it on the desk. He was disgusted with himself. "I consider my body's death and a chill settles in my gut. I am afraid, and it shames me." She cut off the end of his sentence,
"Thane," she said, covering his trembling fist with her own hand. She pulled him to face her, and repeated the motion to place her hand on his cheek. This time he did not stop her. "Be alive with me tonight," she said, then she leaned in to kiss him, and he was lost.
Her lips were as soft as that first night they had spent together. Had it really only been days ago? The kiss began gently, she trying to comfort him, he responding to his own need for sanctuary. It quickly became more frantic. He was trying to convince himself that this was real, that she was alive and in his arms. She opened her mouth against his, allowing his tongue entrance with a soft moan. Her mouth was sweet, her scent almost intoxicating, and he wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted to make them both feel alive, wanted to feel that she needed him as badly as he needed her, just once more.