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Returning	By : braxy29x Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 3000 -:- 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
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"The sun has risen higher, my forehead is beginning to burn. Around me the stones are beginning to crack open with a dull sound, the only cool thing is the rifle's barrel, cool as the fields…" -from "The Renegade," by Albert Camus
...
Then Shepard was there.
"Thane?" he heard her say, her panicked voice rising. "What just happened? Are you okay?" She squatted down, attempting to tug his arms away from him and free his fingers from clutching at his head. He wrenched them away from her, sparing her only a glance, enough to see that her uniform was now mostly in place, her eyes and mouth open in confusion, before he turned away.
"No, Siha!" Thane staggered to his feet, feeling her strong grip pulling on his elbow to stop him before he could move toward the elevator. He spun around ripping his arm free to stare at her, gasping to draw in each searing breath, his arms suddenly tensing at his sides in a defensive posture.
"What's wrong? What the hell is this?" she asked, her fright turning quickly to anger at his stance. "Is this about the kissing thing? Because I can probably find something stronger downstairs in Kasumi's liquor bottles!"
He turned away again, slamming his hand onto the lock, thankful when the door opened immediately and he stepped in, sensing she was behind him blocking it from closing. "I will not do this, Siha," his voice came out in a low rasp as he faced her, his throat briefly inflating as he fought to control his breathing, his fingers tingling from lack of oxygen as he struggled to relax them enough to open from clenched fists.
She stared at him, incredulous. "Do what?"
He shoved the memories down as he reached behind him to press the control pad, not caring where he ended up, as long as he could leave. With incredible care, he took each of her wrists in his hands and forced her back a step, returning her stare. "I will not do this again, Shepard." He let go of her, and the door slid closed between them.
He gazed into the dim reflection of himself in the metal panel, seeing only a dark blur and noticing the coolness of the tears that continued to empty down his cheeks.
...
As a Drell, Thane rarely dreamed. His mind and body did not require or spontaneously generate this experience often. Memories were sufficient to make sense of what he took in over the course of days and he could always refer to them; intellect and prayer catalogued and clarified his internal reality outside of memory and more conscious thought. On the rare occasion he dreamed he awoke disoriented, finding it at first difficult to comprehend what had occurred. He had only had what Humans called nightmares perhaps a half dozen times in his life; these shook him deeply, as if his own soul had whispered forth its darkest secrets, brought to light what should remain hidden.
He had returned to his room from Shepard's cabin, glad that the few he passed on the way had not tried to stop him or speak to him; his fierce expression had been enough to discourage the possibility. Shepard had not come to him either. He had found himself pacing Life Support like a caged animal, until, feeling too ill to remain upright any longer, he had collapsed onto his bunk in exhaustion. He had slipped quickly into unconsciousness, his hopelessness drowning him as he gasped for air.
I awaken, reclined in a small recessed room, surrounded by control panels and displays. I am confused. I raise my head, the ache blinding me and then passing long enough that I can see my body. I do not recognize my hands, the color is wrong and they are bound to the chair that supports me. I wonder why I am here, where here is and suddenly remember I was to bring him her body. The electric shock floods my nerves, every muscle tenses and threatens to tear loose, my senses screaming as I convulse, my back will break, my heart is stuttering. When it passes, I moan, before the will to do even this leaves me. I have betrayed him and I have disrespected the dead. For this I am suffering.
When Thane awakened, his skin was cold despite his clothing and the warm, dry air of Life Support. He looked around him, dimly recognizing the space that had become his, his heart rate beginning to slow. Thankfully he could breathe, or at least as well as he ever did in the last few years.
It took him a few minutes to begin comprehend his vivid dream; he had believed he was Feron, suffering the extended torture of the Shadow Broker. Feron, the Drell who had betrayed so many and had ultimately given Shepard's body to Cerberus, was safe with Liara now, if damaged. Due to his efforts and Liara's, Shepard lived again to fight the Reapers. Thane did not yet understand what this dream meant, but he was relieved that the pain was fading.
The sense of hopelessness he had felt there, strapped to the dream chair, persisted in his waking state.
"EDI, what is our next destination?"
"We will arrive at Omega within 12 hours, Mr. Krios. Commander Shepard expects to stay several days in order to make more extensive repairs to the Normandy."
Thane thanked EDI, and pulled up his omni-tool interface, tapping out a message to a Hanar contact. Perhaps it was time he returned to work.
...
After docking, Thane waited until most of the combat team and crew had left the ship, eager to take advantage of the announcement that they had three days to themselves before they were required to check in again. Most would come and go during that time, but for now they could not get away quickly enough. When he ventured out of Life Support, Thane encountered no one, but was cautious to leave quietly nonetheless, wanting to avoid possible questions or distractions on his way out.
His contact had given him a worthwhile assignment, one he did not expect he would take long to complete. The Normandy's arrival at Omega had coincided with the arrival of another small ship. His targets were exotic slavers, a partnership comprised of a Batarian, and more surprisingly, a Drell. The Hanar had discovered the Drell individual served as a lure, convincing other Drell to leave the protection of Kahje, only to entrap them and sell them for a sizeable amount with the aid of his Batarian partner. As the Drell were so few in number and widely considered an attractive species, they netted a very good price from those who could afford such "pets."
The notion that his own people could betray one another in this way disgusted him, but he mused that perhaps he should not feel so shocked. He had yet to encounter another species incapable of horrific acts; he supposed he had been naïve to think his own people would be above such a thing.
Thane slipped quickly down the corridor and exited into the Omega crowd, senses immediately bombarded after so many days in the relative quiet of the Normandy. He stepped into the tide of people, taking time to focus and attune his mind to his surroundings, to process the infinite lights and noise and press of bodies. When he felt centered, he oriented himself toward the shipping area where he would find his marks.
The partners did their business relatively close to where the Normandy had docked. It was convenient for all parties involved to meet there; buyers and sellers did not have to transport their "stock" very far, and could leave on short notice in the unlikely event they found it necessary. Thane first located the slavers' ship, observing it in dock for a few hours from a distance until he caught sight of his targets leaving, following them easily through the crowd to a nearby warehouse.
When they entered, Thane first waited to see who might arrive before finally concluding no one else was coming or perhaps others were already inside. Gaining entrance was simple; maintenance ducts were no better hidden on Omega than anywhere else and frequently hatches were already loose or completely unsecured. Within a few minutes he found himself perched at the top of a warehouse catwalk, hidden in shadow. Amonkira reveals them, he said to himself silently, looking down on the slavers as they exited from an adjoining room into the warehouse proper. He assumed he would find one or several individuals detained there, but for the moment they were safest left as they were.
The Drell partner walked next to an ostentatiously dressed Human, his attractive voice clearly holding the man's attention. An armored Batarian followed behind bearing an assault rifle. "Of course, I understand your concern. She is indeed young, but she has reached the age of sexual maturity for a Drell and we find this age to be ideal. We can install a neural control for you but left as is you will find she is willing enough to learn but not completely unable to challenge you. She can be easily managed and you can mold her into whatever you would like her to be. We find controlled slaves often bore their owners quickly and older slaves may be too difficult to train."
"You cannot find her equal anywhere else, certainly not at this price," the Batarian added.
"Is it true that some Drell die easily? Some sort of illness?" asked the Human.
"We have thoroughly examined her and she isin excellent health."
"I see. She is certainly appealing. If I wanted a domestic worker I don't think her health would be so important to me. I have heard healthy Drell are strong and durable, I plan to enjoy her very much indeed…"
Irikah was… abused, the examiner tells me quietly. Perhaps it is best she has gone to the sea. Her injuries were traumatic, horrific; we might have healed her body, but I doubt her mind could be made whole again, after what was done.
Thane's vision went red for a moment, his body wracked with a wave of rage and disgust; he felt his fingers gripping the gun painfully as his weapon sounded and his sight returned.
Blood sprayed forth from the Human as he fell, Thane's shot having struck him precisely at the base of the skull. Thane slipped across the catwalk to the shadows on the other side, examining his work as the Batarian looked around him savagely and his Drell counterpart darted away. Thane waited until the Batarian slaver turned to look his direction. One more shot from his Carnifex and the Batarian succumbed as well, one of his eyes destroyed and the back of his head shattered across the floor nearby, his darker blood pooling with that of the crumpled Human near him.
Thane returned the hand cannon to his hip and pulled his sniper rifle from his back to utilize its scope, aware that for the first time in many years, he had allowed his personal feelings to interfere with his work. He sighted around the warehouse, looking for the Drell, supposing he should have planned his next steps better while he had the advantage, but the slavers' conversation had set him off, the image of the abused young female in their possession suddenly appearing in his mind's eye. His pistol was in his hand and he had fired the first shot before he even realized it.
Thane perceived no movement. He listened for some sign of his target, but could only hear his pulse pounding in his head, a sense of heat crawling up his neck. He wavered a moment, feeling distinctly ill, his lungs pulling hard in his chest. He couldn't breathe.
He gasped, his involuntary sound drawing the other Drell out of hiding from behind a stack of crates, eyes trained up toward Thane's shadow, firing at him before disappearing behind a large transport vehicle. Thane could not remain here; his location was apparent and he discovered for the first time in his life that he could not trust his balance. He compacted his rifle and returned it to his back, dropping to the floor below and rolling behind a crate, the vehicle concealing his prey ahead of him.
"I've heard of you, Sere Krios, in my line of work. A lot of my associates fear you after what you did, but I'm disappointed. You have grown slow, weak in your old age."
Thane slipped around the crate to approach the vehicle, doing his best to control his panting. He started to drop down and slide beneath it, but a momentary notion that he would not be able to right himself again washed over him. His vision darkened and blurred but he remained still and waited for it to pass.
As soon as he felt steady again, he pulled a knife from the inside of his coat and slowly moved forward, his target just around the side of the transport. He had an irrepressible need to make this one suffer, as he had those responsible for Irikah's death. When Thane rounded the corner, he was startled to find his target was not there but he sensed him a moment before he was tackled and shoved sideways, his enemy locking his elbow close to him, knocking the knife loose from his grip and forcing it back toward him. Thane felt the blade cutting across the inside of his elbow, pushing through the leather at his ribs and sliding away as he forced his arm out against his attacker's weight.
Thane used the heel of his other hand to strike across his body and into the slaver's face, feeling the cartilage of his nose crunch as he knocked him back. He lunged toward his enemy, using the explosive power of his legs to propel one fist up into his sternum and follow it with a hook to the temple with his other hand. His enemy fell crookedly to the ground, stunned, blood pouring from his impacted face, foolishly trying to prop himself up on his elbows rather than roll away or counter-attack. Thane shoved his lowered knee into his enemy's groin and grasped his head at the chin and forehead, wrenching it up and to the side with a single, vicious twist.
Thane let the Drell's body fall away from him. He stumbled back to rest against the transport with his hands on his knees, trying desperately to catch his breath as he looked around to make certain he was alone, barely noticing the blood sliding down his arm. He grabbed his knife from the floor and stood up, wanting to place his hands behind his head and expand his chest, but stopped when he felt the gash at his side protest, the rush of the fight fading too quickly to stop the flash of pain. He examined himself, holding his elbow away from his ribs, relieved to see that his injuries were not too substantial. At both elbow and rib, the knife had cut to the bones so close to the surface and glanced away, avoiding anything more important but leaving an unpleasant mess of blood and opened flesh visible through his damaged coat and suit.
Thane replaced his knife and held his side with his other hand, hoping to stop the bleeding as he padded softly over to the room he suspected held captives, willing his breath quiet in case he encountered more combatants. He breached the lock easily with his omni-tool and the door slid open to reveal a very young Drell female, barely clothed and collapsed in a corner, a small amount of blood contrasting her fair yellow-green complexion. She had been implanted with some sort of neural interface after all, something her captors had triggered before Thane had completed his task.
He laid her onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest, and then prayed bitterly to Kalahira for her safe passage.
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