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Returning	By : braxy29x Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 3007 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, quoted poetry or lyrics. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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"But those who have gone into the workshop, those who are dead, look at one another and know." - from Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, by Genevieve Valentine
...
Thane would not have believed it possible to hold Shepard in any higher regard, to be any more devoted to her than previously. She had commanded the respect and loyalty of her team and her crew already and their admiration only increased after she destroyed the Collector Base and the Normandy sped away to safety. Again she had proven herself a hero. Thane also knew she had awakened something within him and now he owed her his life, but more importantly he could thank her for the lives of everyone else on the Normandy as well.
He followed behind when they returned to the ship and stayed with her as she briefly took in the damage, noticing the expressions around him were something akin to awe. He was aware that she had business with the Illusive Man and would require time to plan her next steps so he headed on toward Life Support alone when she turned into the Briefing Room.
Shepard came to him the next day as he had hoped she would; he had barely left the room, his time spent in prayers of thanks to the Gods for her triumph and their safety. He admitted to himself that he also preferred to remain where she could find him easily, hoping she would let him know if he could help her in some way; his skills were of little use now but he would willingly contribute whatever she asked of him.
Thane was elated when Shepard stepped in, but recognized from her stance that she had come to him only in a professional capacity. Her back was straight, her hands clasped behind her as she looked out at the core before turning to face him rather than taking her usual place at the table. She did not smile.
"Do you need something?" He cocked his head and offered her only his customary greeting, waiting for some indication from her on how to proceed.
"Well, I want to make sure everyone is okay, for one thing. I also need to let everyone know where I stand with Cerberus."
He did not need her to continue. It was not difficult to conclude that the Illusive Man had been enraged over her decision to destroy the base and it was likely she would see still more fallout as a result. Thane sat back from the table, angry that Cerberus would view her actions with anything but gratitude. He dismissed them with a small wave of his fingers and did his best to speak calmly, his words more restrained than his feelings on the matter.
"You had to make a difficult choice, Shepard. For what it's worth, I believe you made the correct one," he stated simply, but he wanted to embrace her, to let her know he was proud of her victory regardless of what the Illusive Man thought. She achieved the impossible.
She only nodded at him seriously and left and Thane contemplated just how tired she had seemed, her eyes dark and her shoulders weighted. He understood that while the fight with the Collectors was over, Shepard now faced a much larger problem in confronting the Reapers directly and this time she would do it without the powerful financial and logistical support Cerberus had provided.
Without Cerberus, Shepard possessed no other funding or political affiliation that he knew of. The majority of the Alliance continued to doubt her, and he was aware she had rejected the opportunity to regain her Spectre status over it. Thane wondered which of the team members would continue to assist her in such difficult circumstances now that their contracts were completed.
Shepard, by contrast, had really only begun a long war and at this point the parameters of that war remained unclear, both the exact nature of her enemies and any possible allies uncertain. He wished that she could rest, that her triumph had brought her some peace and recognition for her efforts. Her determination to do what was right was as clear in her set expression as ever but he noticed that she looked more haunted, more hunted than he would have expected.
For now he knew must let her negotiate with the other team members; Thane hoped their apparent loyalty to her would bind them to her campaign as well. He would have to share his joy in her accomplishment with her at some other time, when perhaps he could steal her away from her responsibilities for a while.
...
Another day passed and Thane left Life Support, curious about the team's plans. He had no doubt he would stay with Shepard as long as she would have him, but expected he would at least find Miranda, Jacob, Zaeed and Jack making arrangements to leave. He went directly to the Starboard Deck first to look for Samara, wondering whether her Code would require her to remain or if she would now return to her calling as a Justicar.
He was disappointed to find her quarters empty having fully expected to see her seated before the stars but somehow certain she had already left the Normandy. He had wanted to thank her again for her time and her friendship. Thane had spent much of his life alone, the good fortune of finding both Shepard and Samara before his death had been unforeseen and he had been grateful for the example and encouragement these two strong women had given him over the last several months. He stood a while in her place before the windows, feeling a little lost and already missing her composed, anchoring presence but consoled himself with the thought that his friend was well, wherever she had gone.
When he headed back out, Thane could see Zaeed in the mess and walked toward him. As much as Zaeed liked to talk he was not one to exchange pleasantries so Thane merely nodded a greeting as he settled into the chair across the table from him, placing his back to the wall. They sat for a while in a companionable silence, Zaeed looking at the remains of a meal in front of him, Thane clasping his hands below his chin and resting his elbows on the table as he watched the comings and goings of the crew.
"I assume you will be leaving shortly? I'm sure your work will be in as much demand as ever," said Thane.
"Nah," said Zaeed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms, "I was thinking I might stick around." Thane raised a brow with surprise. "You know, Cerberus already paid my fee, and I've done enough work over the years I've got more credits than I know what to do with. Figure I'll see what sort of trouble I can get up to with Shepard."
"What about Vido?" Thane asked quietly.
"Fuck that bastard. Doesn't matter any more. Spent twenty years hunting him down for what he did to me and I'm tired of living in the past. I'm done with it."
"I see."
"Shepard could use a man like me. I figure we've got bigger fish to fry than that arsehole. Figure maybe I can talk a few others into sticking around while I'm at it. Lot of folks here are in the same boat, way I see it. Only so much time someone can spend at revenge before they might as well be dead. Can't let the bastards win."
Zaeed returned to silence, Thane contemplating this change of heart.
"Everyone on this ship's got a past, some bugger they want to stick a knife in soon as look at 'em. Some kinda regret burning 'em up." Zaeed shook his head.
"Indeed," Thane nodded, examining his hands, not desiring to think of how well Zaeed's comment applied to himself. "What about Jack?" he heard himself asking aloud.
Zaeed looked him in the eye. "You know, that one's got a hell of a past. But she'll be alright." Zaeed stood, gathering his plates. "Heard we're headed to Alchera, Amada system. Alliance found the wreckage of the Normandy SR-1, guess they want Shepard to take a look at it. Don't know why they want her to look at a goddamned graveyard. Waste of her fucking time. Enough dead around the galaxy as it is, more than enough dead coming."
...
Thane asked EDI to request his entrance but was informed Shepard had not responded. He stood outside her quarters, hesitating, unwilling to displease her or to make her uncomfortable should he find her undressed, but with a growing sense of concern. He knew she had landed on Alchera and spent the day examining the ruins of her first ship, the remains of her first life. The door was unlocked however and he finally decided to proceed.
He did not immediately see her until he looked past the model ships and found her sitting at the end of her bed, very still, her unfocused gaze directed in front of her. She looked exhausted and was dressed unusually; where she normally preferred a practical, short-sleeved uniform, today she wore a long-sleeved version, her hands hidden in black fabric, the white arc at her chest emphasizing her abnormally pale face. She sat stiffly, her hands resting on the bed on either side of her.
He approached her slowly, allowing her to hear him, hoping she would give him some sign that he had not misjudged in entering her quarters.
"Siha?" He spoke quietly, but failed to provoke any response. "Shepard?" he asked again, more firmly this time, sorry to see that it was this name and his more formal tone that had moved her to frown and glance up at him.
Thane stood in front of her, hands at his sides, troubled by her apparent indifference. "Siha, forgive me. I am concerned. I know you went to the crash site today…" He kneeled down before her and took both of her hands in his before continuing. "Please, can I help you in some way? It hurts me to see you unhappy and I would comfort you, if you will allow me."
Shepard sighed, her eyes meeting his. "I'm always hurting someone, huh?"
"I did not mean… I apologize. You needn't worry about hurting me. It is difficult to confront the loss of loved ones. You know that I care for you, and I do not want you to carry this burden alone." She stared at him, her face tight, and he could only read her expression as anger. He pulled his hands away and rested them on his knee, unsure of what to do next.
Shepard looked to her left and for the first time he noticed a battered N7 helmet sitting on her desk, its cracked visor gritted in places with what he could only assume was blood. He did not have to ask if it was hers.
Thane was surprised when he felt her gloved hands at his face, her lips pressing against the side of his as he heard her breathe in deeply. He jerked back and immediately regretted it, taking her hands in his again as he faced her. "Siha, I believe this course of action would be unwise. I understand that you are grieving…"
"And we know you are brilliant at handling grief, since it only took you ten years and a suicide mission to work through it."
"…I have some idea of what you are going through," he started again, speaking carefully, "and with that in mind, I would find it particularly ill-considered to risk whatever adverse effect such contact with me may hold for you." She started to push at his shoulders and then attempted to pull her hands free from him, but he was unwilling to move or to let go of her. "I understand what you are going through," he said again quietly, looking into her darkened eyes.
"Do you?" Shepard asked him angrily. "Look, I know you can't get enough of this damn death stuff. I know you've been looking forward to yours, you'll just be returning to the sea," she quoted him, her tone mocking. Thane felt as if she had struck him, closing his eyes for a moment as he remembered the rage that had come over him when he lost Irikah and pushing it away before he could experience it again.
"I don't know, maybe it would have been great if Cerberus had just left me alone with it. But they didn't. I found twenty sets of tags today. That's twenty people who died under my command when we were hit, and they were only a fraction of the people I've sacrificed. All those people went down with the ship, smashed onto Alchera just like I did and died like normal fucking Humans. I should still be down there with them." Her eyes narrowed as she bored into him with her gaze.
Thane stared at her, suddenly recognizing her helpless fury at Cerberus over her resurrection.
"I should be with them, Thane. Instead I'm sitting here and as far as I can tell I'm no better than that Reaper we killed on the base. It wasn't a miracle that brought me back, it was Cerberus and a bunch of tech and frankly I wish that they'd left me alone. I'm not even sure who I am anymore, I don't know what this body has to do with the person I remember being, whether I'm still me. That helmet over there probably has more to do with Shepard than I do, it's probably the only real thing left. I'm just a fucking machine."
"Oh, Siha," he sighed. "I am sorry you are suffering." He stood without letting go of her and sat next to her on the bed, grateful when she allowed him to wrap an arm around her, her head slumped down at his chest as she calmed. "Your spirit is the same, the body is unimportant." He watched her toy with his fingers for a moment, pulling them onto her leg, separating them and examining his fused middle digits. She shook her head against him in disagreement.
"They took my humanity."
"They did not, Siha. You are a vessel of the Goddess, a protector of life. Your willingness to endure what you have to protect those around you is proof to me of your vitality and spirit. Your soul moves you to act, moves you to do these things, not Cerberus. You did not choose this second life or the form you have been given but you have made something profound of them."
"The Illusive Man thought he was getting an expensive puppet, but I suppose I didn't let him pull my strings after all," Shepard mused.
"No, you did not." Thane smiled at this.
"I didn't ask for this, Thane. I'm tired of the responsibility."
"You don't have to fight the Reapers, but I have no doubt that you will. This is not a contract to Cerberus. You are the arm of the Arashu and this is your destiny. You could choose to live differently now but you won't."
He felt her cheek dampen against his chest. "Rest with me," he said, running his hand over her hair and then sliding himself back on the bed. He reached for her hand and pulled her down with him, stretching out so she lay against his side, her head on his shoulder and his arm curving around her to rest over hers. He draped her hand across his chest and stroked her arm, feeling her slowly relax and grow heavy against him.
Thane closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift.
...
Thane was awakened by Shepard gasping, her breath coming in warm puffs over his skin and her body tensed against his. The hand she had laid over his chest now gripped his coat, and one of her legs was bent over the top of his. She moved against her other hand, pressed between her body and his thigh.
Thane's body responded immediately with his awareness, his own muscles beginning to coil, his sex hardening. He remained still, baffled by her behavior, unsure of why she would desire sexual release in the wake of her grief. He stroked her arm again, finding it difficult not turn to her and indulge his desire and he briefly recognized that he found her sexuality intimidating. She turned her face up toward his and he knew she sought his kiss again.
This he would not allow, but he found her arousal and his own difficult to ignore. He sat up, sliding his upper body free of her but keeping her arm around his waist, holding it gently with both his hands, wondering what to do. He looked down at her; she was still now, but her eyes were squeezed shut, her tear-stained face reddened and her hand remained between her legs. Her frustration was apparent when she groaned briefly and opened her eyes to look up at him.
"Siha," Thane started but then thought better of it. Her response to her sadness did not make sense to him, but if she desired release, if it would comfort her, he would do his best to give it to her. He did not know how he would satisfy her need while maintaining control of his own passion and he was uncertain what her Human body required, but he felt it important to try nonetheless.
He turned toward her and pushed her gently onto her back with a hand to her hip, one of her knees still bent up from the bed, and eased himself up onto his own knees before her. He rested his hands on his thighs for a moment as he looked her over, finding her beautiful as ever, even in her sadness and exhaustion. He pressed his hands to either side of her on the bed, raising himself up over her, careful not to touch her yet and then leaned down, placing his lips and nose to her neck, enjoying her scent. "Let me touch you, Siha. I will please you. I will comfort you. You are an angel and I would worship you."
Her skin grew warmer under his lips, and she reached up to slide her hands over his shoulders and onto his back to draw him down. He sat back instead, seeing her expression relax as her gloved fingers rubbed across her belly with one hand and gently touched his fingers with the other, anticipating him. "I want you, Thane." She put her hand to her neck, finding the hidden zipper, but he brushed her fingers away, pulling it down himself as he leaned over her, watching the fabric part to expose a narrow strip of flesh at her side, the rounded edge of her breast spilling out as he went, the zipper reaching its end just above her hip.
Thane placed his hand into the narrow gap the fabric had created below her chin, touching her skin, running his fingers over her as he pushed her uniform open. He realized his fingers were trembling. He would finally see her, see the body he had wondered about so many times, the expanse of her skin widening before him. Her lips parted, her face open to him, waiting, her hands now atop each other over her sternum.
Irikah's body lies stretched before me on the bed, eyes wide and dull, skin pale under the bruises, hands atop each other over her center. Her dress is torn wide, chest covered in blood. The wound at her neck gapes, the life that spilled away from her now dried on her skin. A howl rises in me, I run my fingers across her skin, her hands are cold and stiff. Siha, I whisper to her, touching her cheek, wanting her recognition once again. She does not see me.
He came to himself crouched in the hallway outside of Shepard's cabin, his fingers clawing at his head, heart racing within him, unable to draw air through the agony filling his chest. His throat burned in the aftermath of a shriek, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto his leathers.
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