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The hospital was never silent. Quiet, perhaps, with low voices whispering about different diagnosis, people privately weeping in the waiting room, and gurneys squeaking as they headed from one room to another. But never silent. Then again, Shepard had long ago learned that silence meant death, so she preferred it this way.
As it was, she hated entering the hospital. There were too memories associated with this place, too many times she’d woken up or had to say goodbye. For all the life it proclaimed to save, the place felt entirely too sterile, too dead to her. Even this visit was not a happy one.
For a moment, she paused before her destination, staring at the door. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and knocked briskly before entering. “Hi.”
“You’ve returned, siha,” Thane murmured as she entered his room, weakly sitting up. His big, black eyes stared at her, unblinking, and he looked thinner than the last time she’d visited. Smaller. Words she would have associated with an assassin, but she hadn’t met many assassins on their death beds.
This entire room smelled of death. Of loss. His son wasn’t in the room and she was glad—she never knew what to say to him. “I missed you.”
“And I, you.” He reached out and she gripped his hand gently, brushing her thumb comfortingly against the back of his hand. For his final days, she hoped that was all he’d receive—kindness, gentleness, things he had been denied in life.
“I wish I could see you more often, but you know how it goes.” She gave a lopsided smirk. “The universe needs a butt-kicking and I’m the only one with strong enough boots.”
He chuckled, a rare thing. Weakly, he kissed her hands, trembling lips on her skin. “Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?” Shepard teased. When Thane merely blinked, about to fall back into his photographic memory, she quickly added, “Don’t answer that.”
“If you say so.” Thane smiled, amused.
“I do say so.” Shepard gripped his hand a little tighter, feeling the calluses on the pads of his fingers, the scars on his skin. Her own were equally marked, stories that they didn’t need to share to understand. Quietly, she said, “You mentioned several times how you remembered your wife’s eyes.”
“Spice on a spring breeze. Fierce orange eyes.” For a moment, Thane’s eyes stare unblinkingly into nothing, trapped by a memory that had never left him. “Yes, I will always remember the first time I saw her. Just as I will always remember you.”
“Thanks.” Shepard smiled tiredly, running a hand through her hair. “I have a lot of memories of my own, things I will never forget, but I’ve never been haunted by single memory before. Now I have a ghost of my own.”
Understanding, Thane softly prodded, “Who?”
“A boy. A child.” She rested her head on a hand, a fatigue she would never show her crew. “I saved him and then he died. Just like that.”
“I see.” He gripped her hand tightly. Thane’s voice was gravelling, like a river bed, and just as calming. “I do not think you can live without having at least one of those.”
“Actually, I guess I had many ghosts.” Shepard closed her eyes, remembering Mordin. Remembering Kaiden. Remembering the names on the wall, those she had failed. “I had a lot of memories, I just never let them sink in. There was never any time to mourn and now I can do nothing but. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dreamless night.”
He stroked her hair, his hand tangling in her locks as she leaned into it. “I hope I do not become such a memory for you.”
“I’d welcome it.” She opened her eyes, covering his hand with hers. Intertwining their fingers, she smiled. “It’d be a good dream, for once.”
He didn’t say anything. Machines hummed quietly around them, the only things standing between Thane and death. One day, they too would fall silent.
She feared it. Feared the absence they promised, feared the loss she should have been ready for. Each time it happened, it struck like a fresh wound. She might not have Thane’s photographic memory, but this scene, this love would stay with her for a long time.
Finally, Shepard let go of his hand with a sigh. As much she wanted to stay, the universe wouldn’t save itself. “I’ll try to visit you again.”
“I will be waiting.” Thane pointed at his bedside table. A small pad sat there, the screen filled with writing. “Koylat suggested some books for me. I have never had the time to read before, it is nice to do so now.”
“A book club, huh? Tell me about it when I return.” She was not made for tenderness but for him, she’d try. Reaching down, she kissed his forehead, his eyes, his lips. The war was a long one, a hard one. There was the possibility that she would not return. There was the possibility that she would return, but too late. Thane had mentioned that he’d wait across the sea for her, but she wanted to see him on this side a little longer. There were few things she could wish for with an illness this final, this certain.
Shepard was not ready to say goodbye. Perhaps she would never be.