Falling Away

Chapter 9

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! Thank you so much to those who took the time to read the last chapter and add it to your favorites and alerts. On a side note, we are now nine chapters into the story so I figured it was time for one that was Thane-centric. Let's see if we can figure out what's going on in our favorite assassin's head, shall we? I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my own original characters and my measly, little plot. All the good stuff belongs to their respective copyright holders.

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Much of Thane Krios' life had belonged to someone other than himself. It had been taken from him when he was only a young boy. He had been six when his family had been informed that he had been selected to honor the drellish obligation to the hanar for saving them from their home planet as a part of the Compact that had been created between the two races. He recalled vividly his mother's tears and her insistence that there had to be some kind of a mistake. They couldn't want her child…not her's. His father had remained stoic for the most part in an effort to comfort his grieving wife. He had kept repeating over and over the same worn out phrases he'd heard others often use about how much of an honor it was for their family that Thane had been chosen. He spoke the words like a mantra as if he were trying to convince himself of the truth within them. Thane hadn't really appreciated the gravity of these early memories until recently.

He had been turned over to the hanar, much to his parents' distress, with little ceremony. His father had seen him off with little more than a pat on the shoulder but Thane had clearly seen the unspoken emotion barely held in check in the man's eyes and understood what it was his father couldn't bring himself to say out loud for fear of losing his tenuous grip on the grief he felt over the loss of his son. His mother, however, lingered as long as she could. On the rare occasions that he allowed himself to become lost in the memory he could still feel her arms wrapped tightly around him, see the tears as they streamed silently down her face and hear her voice, hoarse from crying, as she tried to impart upon him as much motherly wisdom as she could in the short time they had left.

"I love you, Thane. Be a good boy. Mind your manners. Keep up with your studies. Don't forget to say your prayers…"

It was those final parting words he would cling to at night in those early days when he would wake in a strange bed in the darkness wanting nothing more than the love and comfort his family had always generously provided. Not that he had any time to dwell. He had immediately been thrust into his training to become an assassin. It was a grueling, at times cruel regimen but he had always been a fast learner and had excelled under the tutelage of his handlers, eventually surpassing even them in both skill and form.

He had only been twelve, not even old enough to be considered a man by any species' standards, when he'd made his first kill, a human. It had been a clumsy and messy affair in his young, inexperienced view. It was nothing like his training had prepared him for. He assumed that it was only by the grace of the goddess herself that he had emerged the victor. He had never consciously or willfully harmed another before that day and the knowledge that he had done so had weighed heavily on him then. He had learned over time, however, how to separate his true self, his soul, from the actions his body carried out.

As time went by, he thought little of what his service to the hanar had taken from him and even less of what his circumstances would deprive him of in the future. He was simply an asset, a resource to be used whenever needed. His body was merely a tool to be wielded by the hanar as they saw fit while his soul slumbered on none the wiser and unaffected by the death that followed in his path. He was content with the arrangement.

Then, everything had changed.

It was the fateful day that he had first laid eyes on his Siha…his beautiful Irikah. With little regard to her own safety and wellbeing, she had selflessly placed herself between his sniper rifle and the salarian war criminal he'd been sent to kill, almost daring him to pull the trigger. The defiance he'd seen in her eyes through his scope had stirred his soul from its sleep and called to something deeper within him. For the first time in many years he'd felt shame for at his actions. He hadn't the motivation to carry out the contract after that and had spent some time wandering aimlessly trying to reconcile the guilt he suddenly felt. Eventually, the answer had come to him.

He had to find her. He had to locate her. He needed to understand where these feelings were coming from and what they meant. He saw her as the key to that knowledge. As such, he had tracked her with the same vigor with which he had pursued his other targets. His efforts had eventually paid off and he'd been generously rewarded for his humble apologies and pleas for forgiveness. It hadn't been long at all before initial intrigue had blossomed into full-blown adoration for the woman who had taught him that it was alright to live for himself, to desire something of his own. It was then he realized that is was she that he desired above all else. Thane Krios, for the first time in his life, was in love.

When he had made his intentions known to his handlers they had not been pleased in the least. It had taken much convincing and persuasion on his part but the hanar had eventually, albeit reluctantly, agreed to release him from service. Free now to do as he pleased, he had enthusiastically pursued his romantic interest in Irikah. Their love for one another bloomed beautifully beyond anything he had previously known or could have imagined and soon they had decided to marry. As they exchanged their vows of love and commitment with one another, Thane had believed with all his heart that nothing but goodness and prosperity could follow such a blessed union.

"I received some news today." She stands nervously in the doorway, fidgeting.

"Oh?" The behavior, so unlike her, causes him concern. He lay aside the book he'd been reading and rose from his seat to cross the small space that separated them to take her hand within his own, to offer her comfort. "Is all well, Siha?"

"I…yes." She smiles softly. "I think so."

He smiles back, lifts her petite hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles. "Come then, tell me about this news."

She sits beside him on the small sofa in the living area of the modest apartment that they called home. It wasn't much but it was what they could afford between Irikah's job and the menial jobs he was able to find given his limited skill set. When he'd left the Compact he hadn't realized just how little he knew about the costs of simply living having had the hanar provide him with all he needed for so long. Money was tight but they managed. They had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. More importantly, they had one another.

"Thane, my love," she takes a deep breath, and smiles. "You're going to be a father."

"I'm-" He blinks once, twice, unsure he heard her correctly the first time. "You're…are you certain?"

"I am." She beams at him, clearly excited about the prospect of becoming a mother. "I visited the doctor today."

"I'm going to be a father…" It takes a moment for the news to really sink in, for him to process a concept he once found so foreign. He had taken many, many lives and now he was responsible for helping to create one. The feeling is nearly overwhelming and he rises from his seat, pulling his wife along with him. Excitement courses through him and he scoops Irikah up and crushes her to him. His lips seek out her's and he pours all of his love and passion into kissing the woman who has given him so much…who continued to give him things he had never before thought possible. They were blessed. He was blessed.

He paces. Nervous anticipation churns in his stomach like nothing he's ever felt before. The scent of antiseptic fills his nose, setting him on edge. Doctors come and go but none stop to address the agitated father-to-be. He watches the clock. It had been several hours since his wife had gone into labor and he'd rushed her to the hospital. The doctors and nurses had whisked her away leaving him standing in the receiving area feeling useless and helpless, two things he'd never felt before and decided he didn't ever want to feel again.

"Sere Krios?"

"Yes?" He ceases all movement immediately, his dark eyes fixating on the nurse who'd spoke his name. "My wife, is she…?"

"Irikah is doing just beautifully," the nurse smiles to put him at ease. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to her. There's someone with her who'd really like to meet you."

"Thane," she breathes his name when he enters the room. She's lying in the hospital bed. She's clearly exhausted. A swaddled bundle is cuddled in her arms. He doesn't believe she's ever looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. "Come and meet our son."

Thane hadn't believed it was possible to love something as fiercely as when he first held his newborn son in his arms. Kolyat, as they had chosen to christen him, was perfect in every way. Thane found himself both humbled and in awe that he, who knew only how to bring death, had helped to bring something so precious into the universe. He had vehemently thanked the gods for the gift he and Irikah had received that day for truly they had been blessed.

The harsh realities of life, however, soon intruded into their utopian dreams. There were bills that needed to be paid. There were mouths that needed to be fed. Children, though a blessing, were expensive. Thane, having few skills outside of his training under the hanar, struggled to support his growing family by working whatever job he managed to get. Still, he felt his efforts weren't enough. He believed that Irikah and young Kolyat deserved more than just barely getting by. As a provider, he felt as if he were failing them both.

Coupled with his financial concerns was a growing anxiety at the realization that he knew absolutely nothing about being a father. He'd been so young when he'd been taken from his own family that even with his eidetic memory he found it hard to recall what a proper family felt and functioned like. Even with Irikah's constant reassurance that he was indeed a wonderful father and the support she provided as he did all he could to care for she and Kolyat both, he had soon found himself overwhelmed by the entire situation. He loved his family beyond words, he wanted the absolute best for them, but at the same time he felt as though perhaps he, himself, may not be in their best interest. Slowly but surely, he had fallen back into the comfort of familiar old routines in a bid to do what he had felt was right by his wife and son.

Irikah hadn't been altogether pleased at first when he had broached the topic but despite her arguments that they always seemed to manage one way or another even she had to admit that they needed the money. He'd freelance, he assured her, and work on his own terms which would still give him ample time to be home with she and Kolyat. Reluctantly, she'd agreed and offered her support in his decision to take up his old mantle of assassin in order to provide a better life for their family.

He'd tried to stay close to home in the very beginning, his contracts only pulling him away from the home he and Irikah had made with their son for short overnight stints. During his times away he'd found some relief from his constant stress and worry. Falling back into his training allowed him to turn off his feelings and focus solely on his mission. In doing so, he was able to convince himself that his ability to provide Irikah and Kolyat with the material things they desired outweighed the need for his presence at home. He was back in his element, doing something he was good at…that he was the best at. As such, he was all but blind and deaf to the wife who desired more than anything to have her husband home where he belonged and the young boy who simply wanted his daddy. His trips for 'work' became longer, more frequent, further and further from home. It came to the point that even when he was home he was still only a ghost of himself.

Then one day he'd left them to return to something that could only exist in one's deepest, darkest nightmares…and all of it, he knew, was of his own doing. He watched with numb reserve as they committed his Siha's body to the sea and her soul into Kalahira's care. All he could envision, however, was her broken body and her eyes devoid of the spark of life that had once permeated their depths. The priest's words were drowned out by the recollection of Kolyat's tear-stained face as he had stared up at him, so trusting, believing that he could somehow right everything that had happened. Then had come the questions…questions he didn't know how to answer. They were questions he was afraid to answer, asked by a young child between choked sobs and sniffles.

"Where were you, daddy? Why weren't you here with mama and me?"

Innocent though his son's questions were at the time, all he could hear was accusation. He couldn't deny his guilt or responsibility for what had happened. He had single-handedly destroyed the best thing he'd ever been privileged enough to have received with his own insecurity and selfishness. Looking at his son, whom he loved more than life itself, he knew he couldn't stay. He couldn't hurt him any more than he already had. He thought of Irikah. He'd taken her for granted. He'd lost a wife, yes, but Kolyat had lost a mother. The rage had come then at the injustice of it all and it blinded him to all else. He decided then and there what needed to be done. He would eradicate Irikah's killers from the universe as they deserved nothing less. Then, he would disappear. At the conclusion of Irikah's funeral he had handed Kolyat off to his aunt and walked away. It was for the best, he'd believed. He wasn't fit to raise a child. He wasn't deserving. If he wasn't around he couldn't ruin Kolyat…not like he'd ruined Irikah.

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Thane had found himself dwelling more and more on that fateful day the closer he came to the end of his own life. In hindsight, he could now see that his absence had caused more harm in his son's life than good. Though he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions against the Batarians that had taken his wife from him and deprived Kolyat of a loving mother, his intention had never been to make the boy feel as if he were unwanted or unloved. In fact, the complete opposite was true. From the first moment Thane had known of his existence within his mother's womb he had loved Kolyat. He loved him still. He had never stopped. Yet, he felt inadequate when it came to expressing his devotion to his son. Years of absence had created a nearly insurmountable rift and his sickness had seemingly erected a barrier between them.

It had wounded him more than he had let show when Kolyat had accused him of wanting to make amends simply so that he could die with a clear conscience. The implication being that his impending death had been the catalyst behind his newfound interest in his only child. True, the progression of his illness had brought home the reality that tomorrow was not guaranteed…something he thought he had come to realize through his line of work but hadn't really grasped until he found himself at odds with his own body trying to kill him. It was one thing to go up against a flesh and blood target. After all, he hadn't acquired the title of being the best assassin in the galaxy for no good reason. However, it was much different when the foe you faced dwelled within your own body and threatened to smother you to death with every pained breath. Though his illness may have played a small part in the greater scheme of things, his greatest motivation was to save his son from a fate similar to his own.

When he had learned through his channels that Kolyat intended to follow in his footsteps it had sprung him into action. He supposed all parents wanted their children to have a better lot in life than they'd had and he was no exception. Kolyat had a great opportunity that Thane realized he had been denied the moment his parents handed him over to the hanar. Kolyat had the ability to choose his own destiny. Thane wouldn't allow him to squander it. He would do anything in his power to save his son from the pain, heartache, and crushing loneliness he'd had to endure…even if he hated him for it.

More often than not, as of late, Thane found his prayers and meditations centered around beseeching Arashu to watch over his son and guide his steps when he would no longer be around to do so himself. It was his greatest hope and desire that Kolyat succeed in life where he, himself, had so miserably failed. Kolyat was young and bright, possessing a limitless amount of potential even if he couldn't see it for himself. Kolyat would make something respectable of himself and, Thane prayed, someday meet a Siha of his own and perhaps start a family. Kolyat was an innocent bystander, caught in the crossfire of his father's poor choices and if anyone deserved peace and happiness it was him, Thane believed, and he would dedicate what little time he had left to guiding him down that path.

It was this train of thought that had prompted Thane to venture out of his quarters and into a relatively forgotten area of the Citadel. Far removed from the congestion of the space station's main thoroughfares, this part of the Citadel, though just as well maintained, was almost sleepy in comparison. His journey ended in the front of a rather nondescript building that appeared to have once housed some sort of bar or saloon once upon a time but had since been converted for an entirely different purpose. The outside provided very little clue to the average passerby as to what was now housed within save for the elaborate drellish script that had been meticulously carved into the steel of the doorframe inviting the weary and downtrodden to come inside. Thane had stumbled upon the building quite by chance while in pursuit of one of his contracts who, as luck would have it, happened to also be drell.

Thane reverently traced his fingers over the door's carvings before palming the door sensor. As the door opened to allow him entrance, he closed his eyes and took as deep of a breath as his ailing lungs would allow and blew it out slowing envisioning as he did so that all of the negativity and stress he'd accumulated flowed out of him along with his breath. Feeling more centered, he opened his eyes and stepped over the threshold and into what had become a drellish temple. He was greeted by a rush of warm, dry air and immediately felt the tightness in his chest loosen and his breath come easier. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting but once his vision cleared he could see he wasn't alone in seeking refuge on this day. The corners of his lips twitched up into a barely perceptible smile and, not wanting to disturb the scene before him, he hung back in the shadows and simply observed.

End of Chapter 9