Standard Disclaimers: I own nothing of Mass Effect 2 or its characters.

His heartbeat was a soft double tap, marking out the time, the moments in darkness. Breath flowing in and out like waves against the pylons of his long ago home in Ennage.

Calm.

Serene.

"Amonkira guide... Arashu lend..."

The metal panel had been easy to remove. The bulkhead that formed the half wall between the living room and the bedroom of the apartment had already been prepared for such in fact. Within he'd found ammo for the assault rifle on the wall, a pair of heavy pistols and a cleared out space. Meant for her to hide in. Easy for him to use instead.

The door opened, a low chime announcing Morinth returning with her prey. It was a very low frequency, barely at his range, and very likely not audible to most races. Definitely audible to Asari, he was sure. A quiet way to set a door alarm that wouldn't necessarily be obvious when triggered. A way for the hunter to know when she might be hunted.

She was talking now. Soothing and providing commentary to the restless one, the victim, the bright light that had drawn her in this evening.

"...into dueling for a while. I love the moment you see it in your opponent's eyes. He knows you are the better and he's going to die...."

Stationary. His target was sitting down at that couch. Not the best angle. He'd have to cant out to get a line of sight angle. The statue would give brief cover, the opaque half-wall some obscurity. Not anonymity, however.

He needed to wait, anyway. The Commander was going to investigate this part of the apartment as well. Her instinct wouldn't let her leave corners untested, professionalism unabandoned despite the situation. He'd remain hidden until she was done.

"A gift from a suitor..."

Everything she had to say ended in death. He wondered whether she thought this was seductive to the killer Shepard was pretending to be. The killer Shepard was, in fact. It was a bad tactic. A miscalculation. Shepard was a killer but like him it was more of the body than the spirit. Training. Reaction to situations. Such statements would only disgust her. Shepard was a protector. Not a killer.

Faint tremors through the metal. The Commander was moving back. Back to hear about safety. The desire for it. The illusion of it.

He freed the panel and guided it down, slowly. Setting it on the plush cushion of the couch.

Morinth was moving. Had he made any sound in angling around the half-wall, that would have covered it. She sat down on the Commander's lap, smiling while her hand played with the human woman's hair, wrapping strands around and testing their texture.

He took out his pistol but didn't bring it up to aim. Not yet. Light reflected off of metal. Barrels were recognizable. The very act of readying to kill sent a tension through the air that could alert the wary. He had been trained to see shooting, any combat, a single flow. One did not begin the action until one was ready to follow through with it.

The asari trailed fingertips down the bare skin of Shepard's shoulder blades.

Thane shifted his weight.

"We've both killed you and I, but that's where the similarities end," Shepard's flat tone stopped the asari's liberties neatly enough. Thane smiled faintly.

Morinth stood and for a moment Thane thought there would be violence. The Commander's words were a stone wall where the asari had expected only acceptance. But no, after challenging Shepard to explain, Morinth simply sat down again. This time right beside the Commander, one arm proprietarily laid along the edge of the couch, just behind shoulders. Morinth searched Shepard's face, her expression oddly sweet in its confused entreaty. She raised her chin, soft lips offered with the purr of "Look into my eyes and tell me you want me. Tell me you'd kill for me. Anything I want..."

And Shepard's breath came slower, head dipping slightly like a dreamer's and her voice almost obscenely marred by slurring, "I want you. Kill for you. Anything you want."

Amonkira, Lord of hunters, grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true and my feet swift. And should the worst come to pass…

The pistol had no laser sight. He didn't need it to. Right at the temple, clean and clean through. She kept moving her head but minor deviation to hit between the smooth folds of sculpted skin twisting back along her skull would serve just as well.

"Shh, darling," Morinth was smiling, "Just relax and hear my words."

Shepard caught her breath, the sound of it startlingly loud. Horrors seen? Protest given? Either way she was swaying forward, towards Morinth. Brought closer on the current of the woman's voice.

Thane's finger tightened on the trigger, breath stilling for the shot.

If not for the memory of knuckles wrapped and a trill of lights chiding, the low chime from the door, followed rapidly by the hiss of its opening, would have startled him into jerking the trigger. As it was, his finger simply eased off. A fraction.

"Morinth!"

The Justicar used biotics to throw the Ardat-Yakshi across the room and glass cracked.

Mother and daughter spat at each other. Words and pain. Bitterness and resolve.

He heard it all but his focus remained narrowed. Keeping a line of sight while furniture began to orbit around the two was difficult. He did not abandon his shot though, adjusting constantly to keep it clear.

Samara had arrived but there was no guarantee the Justicar would win. She and her daughter were exceptionally well matched.

Even more, Shepard was standing at the side, remaining uninvolved. It wasn't like her. It wasn't a bad decision by any means. Given the power being thrown about, it was in fact rather prudent.

But it was not like her.

Moments froze, the two biotics locked together. It took a stalemate that drained them both to prod Shepard into action. No knife. No round house. No weapon.

Just a grabbing of Morinth's arm.

Just a pulling back.

Just enough to break it.

Biotics flared then died. The Justicar once more threw her daughter across the room while Shepard took staggering, wary steps back and... turned away as the death blow was delivered.

Turned away and exhaled an unsteady breath.

Samara wished to leave after that.

Shepard agreed without hesitation.

Thane, left with the cooling body of Morinth, finally took his finger off the trigger.

He arrived back at the ship several hours later. Disposing of Morinth's corpse had required a little more finessing than he was accustomed to. He very rarely put himself in a position of having to cover up the results of his activities, after all.

Then again, he very rarely gave inquisitive cabbies reason to remember him.

It was Omega. People were gunned down in the street every day and no one batted an eye. Even had he left Morinth where she lay and the cabby told her story of the jealous drell and the unfaithful human, it never would have led to any complications for him.

Still. There was no reason to not do things the right way. Sloppiness was a bad habit.

He couldn't justify the fact that he decided to walk the long distance back to the Normandy rather than take a cab quite as easily, though.

Blue fingers, delicate nails, trailed down against pale skin. Languid, playful, possessive. Shepard stiffened her shoulders minutely but Morinth simply continued to smile…

He… really hadn't liked that.

The hatch of the ship closed behind him, shutting him firmly away from the sight of Omega in the early hours. The sound of it was impersonal, mechanical, speaking of security and the comfort of safety behind strong metal walls.

Such inanimate promises did little to ease the subtle tension Thane still felt. His steps didn't slow as he entered the main corridor of the Normandy but instead became more purposeful.

There was a different crewman on duty. Matthews. He nodded to Thane but offered no further greeting than that. Since the drell was in no mood for conversation with anyone, it suited perfectly. The elevator was within view and his purpose was to get there, endure the descent down, and find his room.

He did just that and the drier air, noticeably less painful than that in the station near the end, was a welcome reward. He enjoyed it in for a few moments before walking to the worktable, sitting slowly. The humming engines displayed in the window across from him always made for a rather neutral view to use in seeking calm. He was no engineer to appreciate the beauty of its workings, but he could appreciate the beauty of its aestheticism. He folded his hands and leaned forward, elbows down.

Sleep would not be coming, even if he had intended to court it at this hour. His thoughts were too unruly, bouncing back and forth between memories, implications, and curiosities. He tried to meditate but it escaped him. His focus remained tugged outward. Blindly anticipating.

Which was why he wasn't entirely surprised when the door to the corridor hissed open. He opened his eyes and straightened slowly but didn't turn to her.

She wasn't advancing either.

She was hesitating.

"Do you need something?" he prompted quietly.

Combat boots thunked as she, given this invitation, crossed the rest of the way over. He twisted to look up at her, then. She was wearing the casual fatigues that she often opted for while on the ship, clean and neat. Her hair was wet as well. A shower then. A recent one or a long one?

"Do you have a few minutes to talk?" Shepard asked casually.

"If you wish," he gestured to the chair opposite him, noting her body language. Weariness propped up by remaining adrenaline or caffeine. She was smiling, friendly, regardless. Friendly but a little strained. "How did the mission go?"

"We caught her," Shepard said as if she'd been expecting the question. "It may not have been the smoothest op but we got it done."

He raised one brow.

Shepard didn't meet his gaze but looked off to the side as she gestured. "Maybe it was a little closer than I would have liked but it's still a win. We'll head on to Ilium tomorrow."

"It seems to be a win that has you up rather late," Thane pointed out. It was also a win she wasn't entirely comfortable with. He wasn't sure why he prodded her on that, except that he suddenly wanted her very much to admit it.

"Come on, Thane. It's not that late," she returned with light playfulness, deflecting, "Not for an old war dog like me. Besides, you are up too."

"So I am," he acknowledged.

She took his silence to mean something other than it did. A reproach perhaps. Her tone softened, apologetic, "Look, I didn't mean to intrude. It is late. Too late for me, at least, to get back to sleep. But I can leave if you'd like. Let you try with hopefully more success."

He watched her fingers twitch, the line of her shoulders drawn up hard, as tight as if she were still holding herself at attention.

Thane found himself thinking, not about whether he wanted her to stay or not, but about the fact that the last thing he wanted was for her to leave. "No," Thane shook his head, "Please stay. You aren't intruding. What shall we talk about?"

She eyed him, looking for polite deception, hidden annoyance, or perhaps even concealed tolerance in his face. In finding none, of those things, she began to relax.

So, finally, did he.

The End

Author's Notes:
Thanks again to everyone who left such great comments. The feedback was wonderful. Another slight liberty in naming the city Thane called home for a bit – but it shouldn't matter too much.