Vesta: The impact had knocked the wind right out of her, for a moment she lay still. Her hand fumbling out against the smooth surface of their landing, fingers moving over pebbles and pushing passed dirt. Managing to push against it, Vesta pushed herself up with a groan. Hands moving to knock off the bit of rubble that had landed on her, staggering backward before she looked up to find the two others with her.

Moving over to Legion, she offered a smile as she rattled the limp form for a moment and the geth sprang to life with a tilt of it's head towards her. She nodded, stepping back and to her feet as she helped it stand and looked over her shoulder for Mordin. Seeing him still, she moved over to him with a bit of urgency.

Shoving off the bit of debris that had landed on him, her hands pressing to his chest as she offered him a furrowed brow. "Mordin..."

Static hit her ears, Joker's garbled voice coming through as her hands shook gently against the Salarian's form.

"Commander? Co--ander? Shepard, do-- eave me hanging!"

"I'm fine, Joker. The Ground team, did they make it?"

"All members alive and accounted for. Just waiting on you guys."

"Good. Will get out there momentarily." She looked back down at the doctor, "Come on, Mordin.. wake up."

Mordin: Black daze. Head pulsating. Echoes reverberating through the large, empty space they lay in. The tangy smell of metal littered his senses. Or perhaps it was the bit of green blood that had spilled its way into his mouth. Either way, he was almost content to lie there, accepting of his incoming fate.

Something heavy lifted off of him. Perhaps the chains of mortality had let go. Maybe he had passed on? Was this how death felt; a weight relieved from your shoulders? Unburdened?

A sound thundered through his muddled senses; a voice. It called for him. Willed him back. 'No, let me rest. Have atoned enough.' He was shaken against his will, head rocking slightly. A light weight briefly pressed against his chest. The voice called once more. It commanded him, firm with a tinge of urgency. Perhaps he wasn't dead after all. It was almost disappointing.

Eyes scrunching up and vision swimming, he saw the face of the one staring down at him. Like a fire, it warmed him. Alight, a fireplace. It beckoned; a place of comfort. His vision slowly cleared, and there he truly saw the form of the fire. Ah. Shepard. They definitely weren't dead yet. Had the bomb...?

He supposed it wasn't his time yet. Head still pounding, Mordin began to heft himself off of the ground. There was still time.

Vesta: Relief washed over her features, her hands opting to offer assistance as she climbed to her feet and helped to steady the doctor. She gave him a nod, hand laying against his back as she smiled to him. Her hands made a gesture towards the tunnel ahead of them, looking over her shoulder as she heard hissing behind them.

The momentary bit of relief that she'd gotten to feel melted away, brows furrowing as she barked to the two, "Go on! I'm right behind you!"

She heard Legion head off ahead of them, the geth brandishing it's weapon just in the offchance they needed it. Vesta shaking her head as she followed up behind them both with a snarl as an all too familiar voice rang out around them.

"Human. You've changed nothing."

Like hell she hadn't, and if she hadn't she'd make sure to finish it again.

"Your species has the attention of those infinitely greater. And that which you know as 'Reapers' are your salvation. Your destruction."

Running, her mind shifted to running after a momentary pause to fire bullets back into the dark and few collectors she could see spilling out to stop them. Her eyes focused ahead, momentarily thinking of were they really done? No, she had to stand strong against it all, she would fight them when they came.

Then the Normandy came into view, the ship a pleasant sight as she scrambled up after her crew. Door sliding open to reveal Joker, gun in hand as he was offering cover fire for them.

Mordin: Blood rushed to his head, causing an almost blinding sensation to afflict his senses. Spots floated as he took a brief moment upright to let the blood start flowing properly again. It was all he could, either way. The hand on his back beckoned him to start moving, and now.

Mordin didn't even need to glance back to know that what remained of the Collectors' forces were right on their tails, chasing them like a lit fuse. The faint, deathly buzzing noises the seeker swarms had come to emit sounded behind them. Shepard had barely barked out her retreat order before Legion began to run back toward the Normandy. Mordin followed suit, body already beginning to burn from exhaustion.

They were almost there. The light of the center of the galaxy shone brightly in front of them. The Normandy hovered noisily by a ledge, just close enough for them to jump into.

Hastily, Mordin hopped into the Normandy, just after Legion, brushing past Joker, who aimed to take a few more potshots at the charging Collectors.

A large crashing noise behind him made his heart grow cold. Slowly, he turned. The ledge had crumbled beneath the impact of falling debris. The base was already being destroyed.

He could only watch as Shepard charged up the hill... no, she would make it.

She had to.

Vesta: It was a momentary cursory glance over her shoulder but was short lived, head snapping ahead to see the platform crumbling around them. Her arms were tired, and the degree of the run going uphill was painful. Her legs strained against her armor, the plating choking her almost.

Vesta gritted her teeth, ignoring the sounds behind her as she was charging forward. It was only when she launched herself off the edge that it occurred to her that she would not make it...

There was no ground beneath her, and if she missed she would plummet to her death and there was no chance of the Normandy saving her. It was only when her chest slammed against the floor of the entry dock that her thoughts were interrupted. Hands grappling at it, clawing against the floor to hoist herself up.

"Nngh!" Gritting her teeth, she felt her legs kicking air to try and manage a way up into the ship. She was starting to slip, fingers clinging as best as she could.

Not like this. She couldn't go like this.

Mordin: She made it. Vesta Shepard had actually successfully leapt across the gap. With an effort Mordin had never observed before in any human –perhaps this was an effect of the implants? No, now was not the time to be analyzing– she crashed into the side of the ship. Teetering over the edge, she was visibly struggling, and Mordin could only stare in shock.

The sound of Shepard's grunt broke his daze. As Joker continued firing at the Collectors, Mordin rushed back out to the entrance, covering his face as he quickly bent down. A bullet grazed his waning shields, and he grunted as he grabbed Shepard's hand.

With great effort, he helped to heft her over the side, back into the safety of the airlock, where he collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. Breathing heavily, Mordin stared in no particular direction, murmuring, “Made it. Still... alive.”

Vesta: It was when his hand grabbed onto hers and started to tug was she safe in realization that it was going to be okay, the sound of the airlock closing was enough reassurance. She sat for a few seconds, staring at the wall in almost disbelief.

Her head snapped to Mordin, a smile of gratitude stretching over her features. Without him she would have fallen to her death, slid right off the airlock ledge... EDI's voice snapping over onto the intercom pulled her from her reverie. Scrambling to her feet, she made a gesture with her hand.

"Joker! Get to the front of the ship, come on. We need to get out of here!"

She moved out of the airlock area to head into the cockpit, her hands gripping against the headrest as their signature pilot slammed into his chair and picked up the steering.

Mordin: Mordin pulled himself off of the ground, scrambling into the bridge to brace himself against the inner wall. There, he rested, in a daze. Just a moment... to catch his breath.

EDI's countdown did not help with the pounding headache... nor did the resulting explosion of the base.

The flare of the explosion lit up the cockpit. The shock waves shook the Normandy greatly, even as they rushed to escape. Luckily, the combined work of Joker and EDI was able to keep the Normandy on course as they set into FTL drive.

Mordin let out a sigh as he closed his eyes, smiling. Shepard had managed to destroy the Collector Base with absolutely no casualties from their crew. The supposed suicide mission, handled expertly. He glanced over toward the cockpit, shoulders sagging in relief.

They had pulled it off. They held the line.

Mordin: The culminating point of their mission was upon them. They were mere hours away from entering that which they had been working for. To win back the crew which hauntingly left the ship in an eerie, foreboding silence. It demonstrated the true power of the Collectors, how much of a threat they truly posed, and drove it well into their faces. Even their stronghold of a fast, undetectable ship was easily targeted and overtaken.

What little of the motley crew Shepard had gathered had taken over the many duties of the ship. All of them were checking various systems and supplies, while trying to calm themselves down. A futile effort. Those Mordin could observe as he ambled across the mess hall were trying and clearly failing to put up a facade of calm. In reality... they were all a calamity. Miranda had thrown herself even further into her work, even more demanding than usual –if that was even possible. Jack, furiously tearing away at some food Samara had prepared, was giving everyone death glares as they walked by, but the spirit wasn't there. She really was just a child at heart. Even Legion had taken to attempting to help entertain the crew by seemingly doing the robot dance at random.

Mordin himself... he had taken one of the last remaining stock of his favorite tea and was currently sipping away at it. Enjoying what little time he had left in this galaxy...

Vesta: Vesta had spent more time in her cabin than she had thought previously possible, time ticked by slowly and as she watched the clock from her seat across the room she found herself waning. A while ago she had been meandering, looking over what was left of her crew, their faces gaunt and while wearing the masks to defend themselves she knew just how upset they were. She'd actually seen a visible crack in Miranda, even. And that was alarming enough.

No, she needed time to herself, weariness was catching up. Her crew missing, her friends in turmoil, and the only thing she could do was sit in her room and try not to count the seconds until they departed. Head leaning against her upraised hand, she had consoled a cup of coffee and it was only half empty. In her head, going over and over the steps they'd need to take. Eyes slid closed, another sigh on her lips before she was moving to her feet and heading to the computer console.

Fingers hesitated against the intercom, she was sure he needed a moment to himself too. That he needed to think and consider things alone... but she shook her head and pressed the button to the lab.

".. Hey Mordin..? When you have a minute, do you mind coming up?"

She wasn't sure if he was there, and if he wasn't she would simply resign herself to go back to her seat and sip at her coffee in an attempt to relax her mind.

Mordin: Watching from his seat on the other side of the mess hall, Mordin rubbed his stump, standing to depart for his lab. Grunt and Jack had devolved into a verbal argument, and the yelling was beginning to give him a headache. Soft music in his lab would be a much better alternative to this. Excusing himself from his companions, he stood and entered the elevator to his lab.

Padding into the gray expanse of experimental projects that may never be finished, a certain voice caught his attention. 'Mind coming up?' whispered through his head. Ah. Shepard was calling him to her cabin. Hopefully not for medical reasons. It would be very worrying to have their commander –no, Shepard – from the start of the mission. From the way she relayed the message, her potential injury wasn't serious, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

Commander Shepard. Death because her only medic didn't bring supplies. Embarrassing. Another mistake.

Gathering some emergency medical tools, he flew across the CIC into the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to climb the one deck up. Practically pressing against the door, he became so consumed with the thought of her possible death that he burst through the elevator when it opened, and allowed himself into her cabin in a rush. “Shepard, am here,” he called worriedly, eyes frantic. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach upon seeing her... well.

Abashedly, Mordin shuffled his foot, turning green. “Ah... You needed me?” Having successfully made a fool of himself, he wanted to be anywhere else but in her presence. Unconsciously, he began stepping backward... away from her.

Vesta: Vesta had not entirely expected a fast response, in fact she had not expected anything at all. It was when the door flew open, and she saw him frantic and ready with tools that she let an astonished look cross her features. No, she had not anticipated an examination at that time, but if he felt one was necessary...

She brought her hands up in defense, shaking her head as she noticed his posture. Stepping away instead of toward her, and it made her nervous. She offered a flex of her hand towards her bed, trying to smile despite the hesitation in her voice as she spoke.

"Please.. Mordin.. I just.. I needed to talk. Share some words. Silence.. isn't helping right now." she offered, tilting her head and lowering her gaze to the floor. "Though.. if you're busy, I'll understand. I.. I can't imagine what you must be thinking right now. Let alone the crew.. what's left of it."

She didn't wait for him then, instead moving around the edge of the desk and down into the lower part of her cabin. Rounding around the corner and slumping into the couch with a tired sound as her hands came to her head. Frustration, anxiety, fear... all of it was swimming in her already pounding head, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it.

There was a chance no one could come back from this, and while she had cheated Death before there was always a chance he could come and grab her again. Thrust her back into space with only the stars as a glimmering comfort.

Mordin: Freezing on the spot, ice ran through his veins as he realized how ridiculous he looked. Barging in, panicking... she didn't need that, especially not before their mission. Forcing himself to calm down, Mordin watched worriedly as she slouched in her couch, negative emotion exuding from every breath she took. Perhaps this was an emergency, after all. Silently, he walked down the steps, remaining on edge from his earlier display.

Awkwardly, Mordin remained standing at the edge of the couch, foot tapping the ground anxiously. He stared at her, though she seemed to be focusing elsewhere. Clearing his throat, he made a move to sit on the other end of the couch.

After another awkward silence settled between them, Mordin decided to breach the topic. Why did she call him up here? “...Never too busy to talk to you. How can I help?”

Vesta: Vesta didn't even bother to look up when she felt the couch move a short distance away, her head still hanging as she regarded the floor with an intense stare. Brows furrowed as she heaved another heavy sigh, shoulders slumped as he felt her hands wring together then. Folding over themselves as she spoke again, "Just.. have a lot on my mind.. need to talk a little."

It was here she looked up again, though instead of a smile stretching her lips it was a thin line of desperation. Never had she felt quite so weak as she did then, she shouldn't be she knew, she had the weapons, the know how, the crew to get the job done. They all knew what they would be up against, they all knew that any one of them might not come back.

And still.. "Thank you, Mordin.. for coming.. so quickly. I just wanted to talk a bit.. not sure about what, but..."

Mordin: His eyes swept up to steal a glance at her expression, before returning to stare at the floor. Quietly, he leaned forward, resting his face between his palms in a sombre pose. Releasing a sigh from abnormally tranquil lips, Mordin took a moment to gather his thoughts. To gather eggs into a basket, and allow them to hatch into proper ways to talk to this woman.

The woman who seemingly the galaxy upon her shoulders. Vesta Shepard truly was one of the only people who could understand.

As reflective as he was, he didn't miss the tight, taut stretch of her normally smiling lips. What an odd sight, to see upon her remarkably cheerful, playful demeanour. “Understood, Shepard,” he whispered, allowing the silent room to carry his disquieted voice to her ears. With her, despite how she surely needed her pillar of support, he couldn't hide how he was truly feeling about the mission. “It looms close.”

Vesta:"Close enough to be a concern." she murmured, finally gathering herself up with a soft sigh as she climbed to her feet. Vesta took a moment to pace back and forth, steps hurried and shuffling. She paused after a few seconds, her head turning towards him with a small, strained smile at her lips as she turned away to the fish tank against the wall.

"I keep thinking there's got to be another way, that inkling of fear in my chest. It's clinging to my resolve." Moving towards the tank, she looked over the collection of fish she'd gathered amongst her travels. They often offered her solace in the wee hours when she was alone, when no one else in the world could see her faltering they could see it.

She watched an innocent jelly fish, the luminescent globe floating towards the top of the tank before she let her hand come up and touch against the glass. Never tapping, just touching the smooth surface.

"I had strength this morning. I had the fire to continue this. But now I wonder where it went. We have to do this. I will not let the crew die, I will not let the galaxy fall... not to these Collectors."

Hand sliding down the surface, she leaned forward to touch her forehead against the glass with half-lidded golden orbs.

"But not until.. Mordin. Should something happen to me.. I don't want it to be known that the crew didn't survive. I want them to live. All of them. If there's a way to save them all.."

Her throat seized up, words stuttered as she turned to look at the Salarian with a smile that might have not been her own. But something of need, to show she could be strong, "I want you to live too. To escape this. You'll do that, Mordin?"

Mordin: Mordin stared at the disquieting features of his commanding officer: the forced smile, the slight stutter, dulled light of her eyes, and the slight slump to her posture. Worriedly, he stood to meet her, immediately sweeping his eyes to check over her. Anything that could jeopardize her health. If anyone... it was her who needed to survive. She, who would bring down the Collectors and bring proof of the existence of the reapers...

Mordin knew, the moment he agreed to accompany Shepard on this suicide mission, that it was highly likely he would not survive. The grim reality was that he was getting old, and was not quite as adept in combat as everyone else Shepard had recruited. He, more than anyone, was likely to face his end here.

Mordin was not one to admit his faults. But he was aware of them, and that was enough. Loud, reclusive, haughty, judgmental... and stubborn. Many were the times after a mission that he would simply lie and rest, be it in the med-bay or his lab. And he refused to show this weakness to anyone, going so far as to lock the lab, claiming procedural examinations, or to close the med-bay shutters, to induce privacy. Only the good Dr. Chakwas knew of his routine exhaustion after the excessive physical exertion with every mission. And he planned keep it that way.

If only age were not a factor. If only he was not cursed with biological limitations. His usefulness on this mission had already reached its culminating point.

Mordin sniffed. Without a word, he turned away to sit back down on the black couch again, leaning into the cushion. “All of us signed on. All chose to be here, despite risks. Death an inevitability we all face.”

He shook his head, willing the darker thoughts away. They didn't flee. He pressed his lips together in consternation. “You, however... cheated death once. Have to do it again, here.”

Vesta: Standing there as she watched him with a strained expression, Vesta was fighting a mental war on her own. She was a soldier, of the Alliance Systems, or she had been... waking up again to find things not so normal had deterred her. The same things she'd come to cling to as reassurance, reasoning, those things were no longer available. Cerberus had filled those roles, given her orders. As much as she wished to believe they worked for her, it always felt like she was working for them. Doing their dirty work.

But all of it could be explained away, pushed aside in favor of the people she had surrounded herself with. They were her crew, her friends, and they fought with her. Not for Cerberus, but for her. It struck her then just what she'd deemed worthy for her friends, her comrades. But she was going to make sure that it didn't happen again.

Brows perked as her eyes fixed on him, head tilting as she moved over to the Salarian. Settling at his side, with some distance between them, her hand reached to touch against his shoulder in comfort.

"Mordin..."

What could she say to him? She was going to be selfish, she knew, she wanted him to live. If anyone else, for him to live, her crew to survive. Even if she couldn't.

She shook her head, voice soft as she whispered, "Many people cheat death everyday. It happens all the time. But no matter how many times, it may happen. I understand that."

Her hand slid from his form, resting into her lap and tangling her fingers together as her head turned towards the fish tank across the room. Idly she couldn't help the chuckle, noticing just how much of the space was full of color... blue hue stretching out over the floor, tugging at the dark shadows of the room that hid from the lamp by the bed.

"Mmn.. I think.. I managed to say what I needed to.." Her head turned towards him again, softened gaze as her lips twisted into a smile as she nodded. "Do you have any work to do? I.. I would like to spend this time with you.. just sitting here."

Mordin: The light grip on his shoulder startled him, jerking him out of his momentary funk. Giving a placating nod, he stared down at his feet as he rolled his neck.

“Never quite like you,” he ribbed, allowing the signs of a small smirk to tug at his face. “Always have to be unique. Others escape near-death situations. You... only one to come back.” Truly it was blasphemous, to be stolen away from the grips of the Ancestors. To take a potential life away, and to put it back into the deceased.

But surely they knew it was not her time, for they allowed the resurrection to happen. Mordin, forever a man of science, still knew that there were some things that would remain without explanation. Try as one might, some secrets of the galaxy were never meant to be discovered. Instead, he would be grateful for this great miracle, to be granted the chance to meet such an influential person.

He turned to her, the hint of a smile gone from his face, replaced with an intense stare reserved only for his truly serious moments. Usually, he was unreadable, his expression non-telling. Unable to be deciphered, intentions buried away in a pyramid of layers and intricacies that most people wouldn't have the patience to travel. The few who gained his trust were given the gift of a map, to be able to traverse the many shortcuts and safe passages through the maze-like mind.

For now, he had opened the one secret passage, a straight shot to the center of his mind. For Shepard to understand his feelings on this matter.

“We're here for you. Behind you. Believe in your abilities. Can make it through this. All of us.” A heavy emphasis was placed upon his last words, maintaining the gaze for a brief moment before turning away, closing off the paths once more.

Mordin spoke no further, instead settling into the couch in implicit acquiescence.

Vesta: She was honestly surprised, it was obvious that the religious beliefs of the crew were a mixed lot. Be it from her own death or the rising again, or from the deaths of others. Surprising. Her head fell back with a quiet sigh, strands of blonde falling around her neck as she let her eyes close and her hands gripped together.

Time ticked away, her mind racing over everything he'd said to her. Everything that had come to this point, she was going to stop the Collectors. She was going to save lives... colonists, planets, homes.. She would save them all. And at the risk of her own life and crew. She'd given up her last crew...

Vesta nodded again, the silence welcoming then between them both. She let her eyes move up to the ceiling and for a moment she couldn't help the small chuckle.

".. we'll be all right. I'll make sure we all come home. No matter what. I lost one crew already.. won't lose another."

She turned her head to him after a while, the silence had been settled and she wasn't sure just how much time had passed between them as she sat up with a more normal smile stretching over her lips.

Regarding the Salarian, she nodded and reached a hand to touch at his shoulder again, "Thank you Mordin. I think I'll be all right now.."

Mordin: The words she spoke; such a great contrast against those of his former captain. Where Shepard's voice held great desire to shield, to protect... to have no one left behind; Kirrahe embraced death as inevitable. He accepted loss as a fact of their work. He knew, in and out, the importance of the missions his elite squad was sent upon. The vital essence of their society riding upon his success, no matter the cost.

Strangely, he found more comfort in Kirrahe's speech. Perhaps it was his salarian biology, regarding the truth of their short-lived lives. Or maybe it was the sense of detachment Kirrahe set between himself and his comrades.

That was not to say that he was troubled by Shepard's voiced thoughts; nor did he find consolation in them, either. Instead, Mordin was once again assaulted by ideas he thought he had previously quelled. The seeming dependence, the want – no, the need – to have her crew survive the mission... it frightened him. It spoke much of Shepard; speaking these words unraveled her, loss evident in the very fibers of her being.

As opposed to Kirrahe's command, where Mordin was aware that he was expendable; Shepard placed an additional burden upon him. A responsibility. To come back alive; possibly the most difficult part of any mission.

But he would do it. It was the very least of what he owed to the woman who was burdened by humankind. To the one who aided him in his personal mission. The one who began chipping away at the walls of apathy and cold, hiding a lonely soul within the center.

“Just looking to help,” Mordin whispered back, unable to stop the smallest hint of a smile spreading across his lips. “Here for you, Shepard.”

Vesta: Vesta couldn't resist the stretch of her lips into a smile, eyes meeting the ceiling again as it could possibly be the last time she saw it. For once, this home away from home was almost welcome to her. Her hand slid from his shoulder again as she gathered herself to her feet, moving a few steps away as she flexed her arms and laughed quietly.

"I know you are.. and just as you have been there for me, I'll be there for you.. No matter what, Mordin." She let her head turn to look at him over her shoulder, for once laying out the inner thoughts she often harbored. So many people often asked her for her help, but hardly ever did the crew need her.

She was unneeded except for the Galaxy's Desires, and it tugged on heartstrings. Clearing her head of those thoughts, she had a mission. A goal, something to do, a job. She had those things and they needed her, regardless of her insecurities.

She hated making mistakes, and when they happened they left a foul taste in her mouth.

It wasn't until she was startled awake to a massive headache, the room dark save for the blue glow of the fishtank and the warm orange of her adjacent clock. A hiss, her hands coming up to her head to find it wrapped and bandaged. For a moment, she was confused. Not sure what had happened or how she'd gotten here, other than a slip up... In more than one way, it would seem.

Vesta glanced around the room, a groan falling off her lips as she fell back against the bed to glance skyward and see the view of the stars beyond the skylight. "..how the hell.. did I get back here.."

Mordin: The med-bay had been rather hectic that cycle aboard the Normandy. He had stepped down to the crew quarters deck for a moment, stopping in the mess hall to grab a cup of tea. About to take a moment to test the heat, muffled yells echoed through the windows of the med-bay, startling him. He glanced over, seeing Vesta being injected inside the room. He watched on, silently moving forward as Dr. Chakwas prepared to remove the heat sink lodged in her arm.

It didn't seem too serious, as Vesta had taken far more serious wounds. Then before his eyes, she passed out, unconscious on the bed. His panicked eyes met those of Chakwas, and he rushed in to help.

After working through Shepard's ailments, they had finally managed to patch her up, diagnosing a concussion. It was better for Shepard to stay in a comfortable place, so he brought her up to her quarter's, leaving Chakwas to finish her shift.

A few hours later, Mordin stepped out of the elevator, deciding to bring some calming tea to Vesta's cabin in case she had awakened. He stood at the door, invoking Doctor's orders to EDI in order to be able to enter Vesta's room uninvited. He plodded in, not all-too surprised at her awakened state.

“Shepard, good to see you awake,” he said knowingly.

Vesta: Vesta had heard the door to her cabin slide open and it only caused her to sit up with a groan. Her hand sliding up to touch at her head as she gave him a slight smile, "Mmph... I don't remember exactly how I got here."

She glanced up then with a nod, "But I bet you do." Taking a few seconds to twist carefully and move pillows around, she made herself comfortable and leaned back with a content sigh.

"So.. tell me what happened Mordin, as I'm sure you know more than I do.. heh. Other than the throbbing pain in my head at least."

Mordin: Upon seeing her awake, he immediately rushed to her bedside, pausing to place the tea he brought at the coffee table in the corner. Taking a moment to make sure the tea didn't spill in his haste, he walked over to the large bed, standing at its side with a critical eye. “Should really lie down. Not good to be sitting up so soon after concussion.” As he said this, he gently helped her to lie back down, puffing up some of her pillows while doing so.

Frown evident, he stepped back a bit, moving to pace around the bed. On the other side, he stopped, facing the other direction toward the tea. The steam rose from the hot mugs, prompting him to stare up at the ceiling. His hand had trailed its way up his body, resting on his chin. “...Shouldn't scare us like that. Finished mission, came aboard. Brought into med-bay.”

He lowered his voice to a baritone pitch, inclining his head. “You fainted in there.”

Vesta: The first thing she did was grumble about having to lay back down, it always made her feel sluggish and unproductive. But she complied, didn't want to upset him or argue with him. A smile made it's way to her lips when she caught a glimpse then of the mugs he'd set aside. Though her eyes moved to meet his form with a furrowed brow, Vesta speaking quietly.

"I don't really recall what happened.. I knew we finished the mission.. but the rest.. well. It's a nice lofty blur in the back of my aching head." She chuckled quietly, fingers coming up to touch at her forehead with a sigh. Her eyes shifted skyward, lips falling to a slight frown.

"Fainted? Well. Better to have done it here than on the field, don't you think? Don't think many folks would be able to carry my dead weight around."

Mordin: Mordin shook his head. “Lucky to have done even done that much,” he muttered, finally turning back around to face her. Still sporting his negative expression, he quickly stepped back over to the Commander, hands running over her bandages. He paused, leaving his hand on one particular spot, pressing lightly.

Seemingly satisfied, he pulled his hand away once more, narrowing his eyes. “Garrus told me you got separated from group. Significantly dizzy when re-united.” He shook his head again in disapproval. “How did that happen?”

“Better to not have fainted in first place.” A sigh escaped his lips. He knew it wasn't anyone's fault. He just wanted Shepard to be safe. For everyone to be safe. It would be an impossible feat... but he could hope.

Vesta: Vesta made a slight face of discomfort as his hands coursed around the bandages, her hands coming up to fumble against his for a moment before she mumbled, "I'm all right... I'm all right.." A soft laugh fell on her lips, "I'm okay, Mordin. One gun wound and a concussion? Light compared to some of the other things we've done."

She reached up herself to rearrange her bangs, tucking bits of hair behind her ear. "I believe we separated because I wanted to make sure there wasn't something we were forgetting... extra precaution. I wanted to make sure that we weren't forgetting anyone or anything." she murmured, frowning.

"I do recall some unstable ground.. think I might have slipped." Shaking her head slightly, she offered a chuckle to him then, "It's all right, Mordin. I'm all right. Made it back in one piece this time."

Mordin: Mordin did not lift his gaze off of her as he continued to eye her, watchful for anything that he and the good Dr. Chakwas could have missed. It didn't hurt to check over a fourth time. How did that rough translation of his salarian expression go? “Four saves the war?” ...He was fairly certain he made that up, but it applied, in any case.

“Gun wound and concussion more serious than it sounds.” He shook his head once more. “May have survived death. Does not mean you can risk it again.” Another sigh escaped as he brought the tray of tea closer, setting it on a side-table. Idly picking up a mug and stirring, he watched her expression, changing as she spoke her peace.

She had slipped. That was what had caused her to suffer through a concussion. Mordin wanted to bury his face in his palm, but he refrained. “Please, Shepard, try to be more careful. Too many... accidental deaths.”

Vesta: Vesta offered a light nod and another sigh, though this time it was to clear her already aching head. Everything was going so well, they had got in and were on the process of getting out with little to no issue... and then she had gone off to make sure they weren't forgetting anything. She glanced towards him with a chuckle, wondering for a moment just what was in the mug this time. But if she knew anything about Mordin, it was probably tea.

"Gun wound is light, it's in my arm and nowhere lethal. The concussion... well. That's something else entirely. It didn't kill me. And that is the thing to look at.." she paused, her hand reaching out to pat at his arm gently. "I'm all right, Mordin.. I risk death all the time. You know that. And I've come back every time. The only instance I didn't.. well. We were blindsided and had no intel on the matter is all. I had to save them..."

She shook her head, dropping her hand to rest near his leg on the bed, her lips curling into a smile then as she let the subject drop. "I will be more careful, as per doctor's orders."

Mordin: His large eyes trailed a path down his arm. Shepard was able to reach up from her supine position. Good. Stopping to put the mug in his hands down, he swept his gaze across her features once more before seating himself on the bedside, satisfied.

It really was a silly thought, to think he could ask Shepard to try and stop putting herself in danger and being reckless. It was unrealistic and unaccountable of the many uncertainties they could face on the field. Still, he couldn't help but worry endlessly about the crew he had come to care for... and the one who tied them together. In addition to that, she had died once. Shaking his head once more, he muttered, “Still didn't stop you from coming back.”

Her acceptance, if jokingly said, were enough for him. Knowing she would do her best to keep true to her word, Mordin simply nodded. “Please do.”

A sigh. Unable to properly come to terms with the fact that someone, anyone, had cheated death and had come back to life; it plagued him that medical science had delved into such treacherous, blasphemous territory. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to blame them.

A stray thought irked his mind; was there a pause in the wheel of life? When one died... were they shuffled into a queue of souls of both pure and corrupt alignments? Or was Shepard ripped from a new body, stealing life away from the new? If it was the latter case, he hoped the life was granted a different soul, equally as kind as the one taken away.

He broke the train of thought. “Tea?” he offered, hoping to break the period of silence he had wrought upon them.

Vesta: Vesta had been content to sit and listen, if only she had gotten more time to do it. It was true, somehow she'd cheated Death itself... and most in part to Cerberus, who had poured every resource into bringing her back. Briefly she recalled having awoken early, Miranda almost kindly trying to lull her back to sleep before demanding that she be put down again.

It had been a brief flashback to being sucked out into the vastness of space, those few painful minutes of breathing and gasping only to see the glimpse of stars around her before it went black. It lingered in her mind, what death felt like, she could swear it was a choking sensation and not just the fact that she had died to suffocation.

She was pulled from her reverie for a moment, her head turning towards him again at the offer of tea. She nodded slightly, trying to pull herself up a bit so that she could lounge and enjoy the offered drink fully. Moving some of the pillows so that she could do so without invoking Mordin's wrath in medical health.

"Thank you. Did you manage to find some strawberry tea? Or do we have to settle for less than stellar?" she teased, voice softer than before. Laced with a hint of sadness, if momentary.

Mordin: Narrowing his eyes at her insistence to boost herself to a better sitting position, he relented and moved to help. Gently grasping her good arm, he helped to support her as they dragged and arranged pillows beneath her. Carefully letting her rest her back on the makeshift hill, he turned to pick up the tea, beginning to stir hers. As Mordin turned back toward her, he barely caught notice of her melancholy expression.

Clearing his throat, he stated, “No other kind would be satisfactory for this.” Handing Shepard the mug for her to continue brewing at her own leisure, he moved once again to sit next to her, quietly stirring in his usual additives.

Mordin stared at her face, eyes softening. “...Something on your mind?” Having seen the evidence of her thoughts plaguing her, he would attempt to counsel her. He would listen.

Vesta: "Just the idle thoughts of someone who is considering your words." she murmured, stirring the tea a bit more before pulling the mug to her lips to sip. She let her eyes slide closed, for now content in his presence and the aroma falling from her cup.

She chuckled, tapping her fingers against the surface before she glanced over towards him. She often thought about others, how they felt towards her, was she paying them enough attention... The few times she'd tried to reach out to assist it had been snapped back in her face. People not quite wanting help, in Grunt's case, and others just not willing to share it all, for Miranda especially.

"You know... I used to watch the stars. I watched in amazement at them. Silly now that I dislike them."

Mordin: Simply nodding, he leaned back against the wall slightly, mindful to keep his posture professional. Although he was obsessed with image and keeping his distance relationship-wise, Shepard's constant interruptions and his gradual integration into the crew were slowly unravelling him, stripping his resistance to openly becoming comrades... perhaps even friends.

His face soured after one sip of his tea. Not quite sweet enough. Dumping another pinch of sugar into the brew, he finally steadied his gaze upon the aquarium. The dull blue glow, the bubbles steadily floating up to the surface... It reminded him of times past. In his childhood he would often go swimming, inexplicably attracted to exploring the oceans and its secrets. Carefree times. He could almost let himself go...

Vesta's sudden words anchored him back down, and he blinked. Looking over at her, he nodded. “Remind you of circumstantial death, don't they. Stars fascinating. Bright, large, made of hot gas... Often related to wishes, or heavens of god. ...Hard to think of them directly as symbols of death.”

Vesta: Vesta chuckled, he knew just how to jump to the point of her comments. It was what made her laugh and realize he probably could read what she said often, could probably read her outer appearance. She had spent many years learning to read people, growing up on the streets had given her that ability.

She cradled the cup, pulling it to her lips again for another sip before she gave him a sideways glance and offered a nod. "Not necessarily.. I spent a lot of my time looking at them, trying to put them together.."

She paused, the commander looking up at the ceiling again before she continued though her voice was distant. "The last thing I saw were the stars... not people, not my life.. not things I had been expecting. Things I had been told. Bothers me... that the last things I saw were the silent glimmer of the stars before I saw nothing."

Her head lowered again, looking down into her cup with a sigh, ".. so many things I should have seen.. things I didn't see. But they're .. soothing. Serene. I was.. content. Even if the last things I did see were only those little lights."

Mordin: “Put them together?” pondered Mordin aloud. “Didn't have much time to regard formations of stars. Too busy, even as child. Rather, saw them as individuals. Each with own size and qualities,” he explained, thinking of what he was taught in the past.

It was said, as lore dictated, that stars were representative of an individual's life. When one person died, so did their corresponding star. The spark in their eyes would be taken away with their soul, just as the stars shine brightly one final time before exploding into colourful dust clouds.

He allowed Vesta to finish her train of thought before interjecting with his own thought. “...Regret being resurrected? Brought back to our galaxy? From wherever you were?” His voice had fallen to a low pitch, staring hard into his mug. Unable to think of any other way to say his true thoughts, he stayed silent.

Vesta: "Growing up, I had a lot of time. Childishly, would sit for hours and put them together in the sky at night." she murmured, chuckling quietly before her hand reached up to make a gesture towards the skylight above them. Wiggling her finger a bit, she made another noise as she lowered her arm and instead pulled her cup to her lips again.

The tea was helping, if anything to calm her nerves. She lifted her head slightly when he mentioned regret of being brought back. For a moment of silence she considered what he had said. Where had she been but a floating body in the depths of space? A memory of people in the Galaxy to wander aimlessly amongst the stars until she had plummeted to the planet nearest the crash?

Her voice was soft when she spoke again, "No. Have to be here. No one else can do what I can, have to be here to help the galaxy by holding their hand. Guide them through." She chuckled softly at the joke, though she did manage to steal a look at him, "Besides, Mordin, I should be dead. But I'm not. If death can't keep me, then what can?"

Mordin: “Would like to try sometime,” he mentioned quietly, taking a sip of tea quickly afterwards. “Abstract exercise. Allows mind to draw parallels between realities. Turn one idea into another.” Silently, Mordin drew his gaze upward to the hole in the ceiling. Despite the ship's relatively quick movement through space, the stars floated on slowly, ever distant... ever stationary. The Captain's quarters would be a wonderful place to try stargazing.

“Lucky the first time. Not so much second time.” Mordin stole a glance at Shepard before gazing upward again. “May not have resources... perhaps body may not be intact enough. Stay with us.” Drawing in a deep breath, he lay his head back onto the wall, suddenly feeling haggard and fatigued. “Always has to be us. No others are experienced enough. Don't have ability to comprehend gravity of situation.” Inclining his head back down to his mug, he stared at the faint reflection of his eye. Experienced... desensitized.

Shaking his head, he looked over at Shepard again, carefully examining the bandages over her forehead. “Just wish... didn't need to be us. Hold burdens for everyone else.”

Vesta:"I'm sure you have time now, Mordin. The company I'm providing is probably very dull. All Science considered." she teased, offering a nod of her head before she was reaching to place the mug on the nearby table. Once free of it she slid down in the bed with a soft groan, so that she could look up more comfortably.

"Never know... could cheat death the second time, live forever. Like some mythical Goddess, roaming space forever protecting it and never dying." She paused to chuckle, "Silly, I know, but it came to mind. And don't worry, I don't have any desire to go anywhere else.. I'm content being here in this galaxy, this time."

When he spoke again she could heard the distinct tiredness, something she had not heard from the Salarian before. From her experience, they often spoke quickly, strongly, and while they got one or two hours a sleep each time they went to bed they were probably far more awake than she ever was on a given day. She nodded her head slightly, her hands clasping over her middle with a smile on her lips, "I know what you mean.. always has to be us, no one else could do it better. Or even half as good."

It was here that she shifted, her head resting near his shoulder. Seeking a kindred soul, "I wish it hadn't been me.. the Alliance could have picked anyone else.. but it's not all bad, you know. I have my crew.. this ship. I have good friends.. I am content in that knowledge."

Mordin: “Some things more worthwhile,” he murmured, instead shifting slightly toward her. “You company most thought provoking, elicits abstract thinking.” Touching her arm gently, he examined the bandages. They were slightly soaked with blood. Mordin scooted toward her, taking out some supplies from his coat and spreading them out onto the bed before gently taking her arm into his hands. Donning gloves, he took a sponge and soaked it in some of the boiled water he brought with him. Dabbing at the bloodied wrappings, he continued his train of thought. “Not dull in slightest. Sharp, even considering concussion.”

Carefully, he began unwrapping the bandages, something his hands had long since memorized to do on their own. “Unimaginable, living forever. Forced to guard life for eternity... wouldn't be able to take that burden myself. Would rather enjoy life and relationships before returning to cycle of souls.” Bandages stripped to the last layer, he began cleaning what he could of the limited exposed skin. Re-wrapping her arm again tightly, he replaced her arm at her side. Briefly, he lingered, before retracting his arm once more.

She seemed to have noticed, as she shifted toward him, stopping just shy of his shoulder. Stared slightly, he muttered, “Looks uncomfortable. Here.” Moving, he allowed her to rest her head upon his shoulder. “True,” mumbled Mordin, eyes half-lidded. “Glad things turned out this way. Met crew. Opened up, improving social contact. ...Met you.”

Vesta: The Commander had been in far more unhealthy scuffs than just a heatsink lodged in the arm, she'd fought geth, been thrown into space, ships crashing and the mako... all of it having not really killed her in a sense. She watched him through half-lidded eyes as he tended to her arm again.

"I'm about as sharp as a butterknife cutting bread at the moment, so my lack of any thought trains are due in part to it." she murmured, listening to him speak on the matter. She chuckled then, "It was a joke, Mordin.. I can't imagine how sad that would be. I already feel bad for the Asari, because of their lifespans being so long.. what that must be like if you fall for someone outside your own race. Then again, the mentality they have is something akin to treasure the moments you have not the future."

She yawned a bit before she was resting her head against his shoulder, and a languid look crossed over her features. Her lips curling into a smile, "I'm glad.. despite everything, so many rights have come from this situation.. even if I do have to deal with Cerberus."

Mordin: With his free hand, he began gathering what supplies he could reach and replacing them in his pocket. Shepard's arm bleeding, while not wholly unusual, was still concerning enough for him to keep a closer eye upon her. The minor realization hit him that she was a soldier, and she could take injuries such as hers relatively well. The thought that he was being overbearing in his doting came to mind, but he dismissed that; instead, he mentally claimed that she required more observation, being the commanding officer. A plausible enough reason, in his mind.

Mordin nodded. The asari had a rather tragic problem with their style of selective breeding. Becoming bonded within their race was a relative taboo; with unsaid fear of bringing about the Ardat-Yakshi genetic disorder, he could see why. “Krogan last long as well. Asari-krogan couplings not quite as heart-breaking. However... see your point. Not many would find love in krogan... barring rare occasions.” An errant smile tugged at his lips. “Yes, agree with their mindset. While planning for future important, should also consider the now. Shouldn't worry too much about possibilities... should make them realities.”

Idly, he drew a finger across her forehead, mindful not to aggravate her injury, but to brush a stray hair away from her face. “Have to take good with bad. Two sides to every coin, as humans say. With light comes shadow. Neither exists without the other. Such is good and evil.”

Vesta: "Mmn.. Krogans. Those are some tough bastards, I'll admit that. Though, with the way they carry on about females... I'm not surprised they tend to stay within their own clans and such. If Wrex is any indication.." she murmured, shrugging slightly as she slumped into his form a bit as relaxation settled into her bones.

"Can happen though.. met a few Krogan who fell hard for Asari girls." she said, chuckling quietly before she was nodding. "Mmn.. starting to sound like you are some philosopher, Mordin.. time is precious, I know. But that right there was text book grade stuff."

She offered another chuckle, catching herself leaning into the hand that danced lightly across her forehead. "Shame.. we can't have more good than evil.."

Mordin: “Have to,” Mordin whispered, pensive. “Genophage. Forced to breed constantly. Hopes of implantation extremely low. Then, have to survive development. Birth. So many chances for complications. Chances of successful birth... around one in one thousand.” Visibly, he didn't react to her leaning further into his shoulder, too distracted with the sudden onset of genophage regrets.

Her light teasing managed to lift his mood back somewhat, forcing a light laugh. Still, it didn't stop the temporary dam from letting a few leaks through. His mind swimming with regret, he almost forgot to respond. “Had better be. Had it written in one.”

He shook his head, resolving himself to focus on her state. She seemed to be recovering well, if fatigued; indications being her slump into his form, and her apparent lean toward his touch. Strange, but not unwelcome. “Duality. Perspective. Would simply be neutral if no evil. Some may argue... our good is their evil.”

Vesta: Vesta nodded her head slightly against him, her lips carrying the smile despite her eyes sliding closed, "Krogan are tough, doubt they'd die off easily... even with the genophage.. doesn't mean we can't find a way to help them." She let go of a yawn, chuckling softly again at the mention of it being written in a book. She would have to look for that book sometime, when they had some more grounded time in between missions.

Her hands fumbled against themselves as she nodded again, "Good and Evil are just words, Mordin... always have been. Sapients are the ones who developed them into more than just that... but it's all right, there has to be a good and a bad. Neutrality would mean stagnant stasis for everyone.."

She yawned again, "Mmn.." was her quiet hum as she was already drifting to sleep against him. Comfortable and content.

Mordin: She truly believed they could help the krogan. Inwardly, he shook his head. The krogan, while aggravated and enraged at the genophage –throwing all beliefs that their problem is with the genetic modification,– were causing their own downfall. Infighting, being careless with their lives, throwing themselves into battle for 'honour' and 'glory'... The dark reality was that if the krogan did not shape up and unite as a species to fit amongst the galaxy, they would soon kill themselves off; genophage or not. Mordin held slight hope with the man they met on Tuchanka, but he would reserve judgement until he saw the Urdnot clan leader do something.

“We'll see,” he murmured, his mind already rationalizing everything once more. A defense mechanism he was only barely aware of, to rationalize every decision he made to help him forget the regret that may come with the choices he made for other people. Their lives. And in this way, he saw himself for what he was.

...But what defined you? Your good intentions... or your terrible actions? Voicing this just under his breath, Mordin wondered if he would ever find an answer. He turned his head to see Vesta, almost asleep on his shoulder. His eyes lost the hard stare they'd taken upon, and he brushed his cheek against her hair, unable to stop himself.

Vesta: Vesta was often plagued with similar thoughts, though self doubt had started to wrench at her. She wasn't sure what she was, alive or dead. To many she was still dead, here she was alive. She would be able to do this, defeat the collectors. But then what? The question often sat unpleasantly on her mind, what would she do...

But sleep was quickly overcoming her, and she would take solace in the fact that Mordin was here with her. The pillar she'd started to lean on for support more than anyone else. "Night... Mor.." she murmured, settling into him and silent.

Mordin: She whispered an incomplete wish goodnight, and drifted off into the sea of stars, where dreams –hopefully dreams – would swim through her mind, nerves firing in erratic patterns to create an otherworldly vision. Or was it incomplete? He wondered if she had just given him a nickname, a shorthand of his already short name.

“Goodnight, Vesta...” He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift into his own universe. Where he could take solace in his own dreams, and escape the nightmares of his daily thoughts. If only for a moment. He allowed his head to lull on top of hers, another pillar to his own, helping to support each other and their goals.