[ME] A Last Look (Thane/Irikah, PG)

[wallwalker]

Title: A Last Look
Author: wallwalker
Fandom: Mass Effect 2
Characters: Thane, Irikah
Warnings: Spoilers for Thane's backstory.
Summary: Thane looks back at Kajhe, for what could be the last time.
Notes: Originally written at fic_promptly. Also posted here.

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Thane could not deny that Kajhe was a lovely place.

He knew that was a strange thought for him to entertain. Even though he has never been to Rakhana himself, he remembered seeing images of it at various points in his life, and he knew that the two worlds could not be more different. He also knew that his race did not belong on this one - the constant heaviness and occasional dull ache in his chest was proof of that. This world and its waters would be his death, and it would not be many years before he passed.

Still, when he looked out over the world like this, it really was breathtaking - the constant expanse of water, the waves that crashed white upon the shores, the glow of the white sun as it sank below the ever-present clouds. He has looked upon it many times with Irikah, seeing new facets of it each time, new shapes in the clouds and new patterns in the waves. The two of them had shared many memories there; standing alone on that same balcony was painful, but necessary to reaffirm his purpose.

Something caught his eye, in the calm waters, and he turned his head to see a small group of young drell in complicated suits, assembled on the beach before an elder hanar. He watched the scene, recognizing it, knowing what they were about to do -

He stands on the balcony. The weather is calm that day, and he is enjoying the warmth of the setting sun when he hears a familiar footfall. His wife joins him on the balcony - he knows her, even if he had not been able to see her from the corner of his vision. He smiles, reaches for her. She leans on his shoulder and stands beside him in silence for a moment before speaking, the two of them enjoying each other company, or so Thane hopes - he knows his own heart, and only hopes that his siha feels the same love for him.

"I would like to ask something of you, Thane," she finally says, not moving away.

"Anything you wish, siha," he answers. "What is it?"

"Kolyat has been restless in your absence, and wishes for a new diversion. He has settled on an idea, but I wish to hear your thoughts before I permit him to pursue it."

He frowns slightly. "Why do you worry? I trust in your judgement."

"Yes, husband. I know. But I wish to ensure that your mind is at ease about this. Kolyat... wishes to learn how to swim."

He closes his eyes, understanding his wife's reluctance now. They have had many conversations about his beliefs, conversations that had often lasted deep into the night. He has told her why he does not go near the ocean, why he refuses to step into the waters unless he must. She knows of Kalihira, and of the peace that he knows is waiting for him at the bottom of her divine ocean, and that he will not go seeking it until it is his time. He has always been troubled by this fad, by the drell who have forgotten the old ways and who wish to learn the ways of the hanar, diving into the ocean as if it were only another place. As much as he respects them, he knows that this is wrong.

He says none of this to her, though. Not now. "I trust your judgement," he repeats instead. "If you feel that this is safe for Kolyat, I will not protest."

"But you would not choose it for him."

He will not lie to her. "I would not. But the choice is ultimately yours, siha."

She sighs then, and lays her hand on his chest, an intimate gesture. "I will never understand your faith, no matter how much I have learned about it," she says.

"I do not ask you to understand, siha. I only ask you to respect it, and you have done so." He smiles at her. "That means more to me than I can say."

She smiles back at him, and there is something in it that tugs at him, the way it has so many times before. He takes her hand, leads her back into their home -

Thane blinked, feeling the memory subside. He heard laughter, looked down to see the young drell splashing in the sea and their hanar instructor flashing in delighted amusement. He shook his head, remembering the writings of another man who followed the old ways, his fierce condemnation of the way that their race lived now. The gods had cursed them, he had said, and had given them this deadly disease for turning their backs on their home and all that they had believed in. Thane had never believed him; he could not have served gods who were so cruel. But he could understand why that man would have said such horrible things, as he watched those children playing and laughing in a place that they would have treated with respect and awe, a few generations ago.

He had asked his wife to respect his faith; he had realized that asking her to understand would be too much, unless the gods themselves had intervened, something he had never dared to hope for. But had he understood it himself? Right now, he wasn't sure. He had been devoted in his prayers to Arashu, and yet his siha had been taken from him, leaving his son motherless. Had he brought this punishment upon her? Had his past caught up with him?

There were no answers under that beautiful sky, only the necessity of punishment for the ones who had done this; he needed to find them, to find out why they had done this and to make them pay. Arashu had abandoned him, or perhaps he had never served her well enough, his soul having been too consumed with the hunt. But Amonkira had always been kind to him; surely that would not change, now. He had always been a devoted hunter.

He had taken Kolyat to the house of Irikah's family - they could care for him better than his shattered father could, for the moment. He has lost part of his soul with Irikah's death; he does not know if he will ever be Whole again. Now he would leave this empty house, and let the memories he had taken from it sustain him. He would not come back to this balcony, would not look upon the picturesque view of this world's ocean. If not for Kolyat, he would not consider returning at all; without Irikah, its beauty was cold and flat, almost cruel.

Still, he did not think that the gods would curse him for looking upon the ocean again, for one last time.