Not as Planned
Part One
Note: This is the first fanfic I've ever done. I'm usually a strict original fic writer-specializing in horror and fantasy. I wasn't even going to write this, but the idea of doing a Mordin/FemShep fic was just too strong to pass up. So, here you go. Enjoy.
Mordin rushes through the streets of Omega with his gun drawn. Samara follows behind, her easy strides keeping pace with his hurried steps. His head aches and so does his throat. It's been a while since he's done so much running. The days after his retirement, while dangerous, didn't require him to do anything more than walk and perhaps even jog to destinations.
Now he needed to run. And run fast.
"Excuse me! Pardon me!" he shouts, elbowing people aside.
Samara glows and with a wave her arm parts the sea of civilians in their path.
"Thank you!" he says.
She nods, that beautiful, serene smile of hers gracing her features.
Was it that smile that convinced their Commander to help Samara with her mission? Mordin seethes at the thought. Shepard is a bright, strong woman. How dare she be so easily persuaded into such a deadly task! Facing an Ardat Yakshi alone and unarmed? Insane!
"There!" Samara points to the entrance of a high end loft.
Mordin skids to a halt in front of the steps and jumps them. His omni tool snaps to life as he passes his hand over the lock. It clicks and the hydraulic doors screech open. Inside there are more stairs lit by a single row of florescent bulbs.
He readies his gun and takes a cautious step forward. The stench of blood, both old and new, hangs in the air. The fresh smell worries him the most, almost panics him, and he can't tell why. He's been around so much of it in his life. Why would it just begin to bother him now?
Because it might be Shepard's blood.
It doesn't make sense. Morinth kills by overwhelming the nervous system. The victims experience an intracerebral hemorrhage resulting in death. That's happened to that human girl, Nef. Was it Nef? Can't remember. Not relevant.
What is relevant is that the bleeding is internal, not external. No blood, no smell. Smell means external damage. Cuts. Punctures. Compound fractures. Bullet wounds.
He pauses halfway up the staircase. Above is the door to Morinth's den. A tiny rivulet of dark red liquid trickles from the floor seal.
Samara's breath hitches.
Her biotic aura flares, growing so bright that he has to shield his eyes. There is a loud creak and a crash! He peeks through his fingers. The door is gone, torn clean from its seams.
"Impressive," he says.
Samara doesn't acknowledge his compliment. She just storms past, her hands curling into tight fists.
"Morinth!" she calls.
The asari in question is on a sofa at the far end of the dark room. She sits relaxed, a grin splitting her pretty face. It's like Samara's, Mordin notes, but crueler. It makes him want to punch in her teeth.
He then notices that her foot is propped up on something on the floor. The shape is familiar, human female with soft blonde hair. Soft blonde hair…?
"Shepard!" he shouts.
"Oh? Is that her name?" asks Morinth, rolling the woman onto her back with her foot.
Shepard's mouth is split, her nose crushed. Probable cause of damage was a slam into a hard surface. Hard to tell. Will figure it out after dealing with current threat.
"You really shouldn't have sent a human to do your dirty work, Mother," Morinth says.
Samara swings, throwing all her weight into a biotic push. The blast wave catches Morinth, sending her into the wall. She howls and throws out her arms, bright blue energy surging forward. It hits Samara, throwing her into Mordin.
They crash down the stairs, tumbling to a stop at the entry way. His gun flies out his hand, landing somewhere behind him. There's a crack, but he feels nothing break.
Samara pushes herself onto all fours and scrambles to her feet. She limps a step and then stops to cast a glance over her shoulder to her left foot. The heel of her boot is broken.
"Break off the other one!" he says.
She obeys, snapping the heel off her right foot and tossing it aside.
"Are you okay, Mother?" calls Morinth from the top of the stairs.
"Don't call me that!" says Samara.
"Oh? Why not? Mother."
Morinth glides down to them, light coating her in a blue halo. It's almost pretty. Almost.
"I have to admit," she says, "If I had I known that you were slipping in your old age, I wouldn't have run from Nos Astra. I mean, really? Sending a human to kill me? You didn't have the guts to finish this yourself?"
"I did not send her to assassinate you, " replies the justicar, "She was only to distract."
Mordin props himself up onto his elbow and glances behind him. People are panicking, screaming as they run from the fighting asari.
His gun is nowhere to be seen.
Not good.
"She did that pretty well." Morinth scraps her teeth over her bottom lip and smirks. "You've got to give the stupid bitch credit. Beating her face in was a great distraction."
"You will regret whatever horrors you unleashed upon Shepard, Morinth," Samara takes a sidewards step, her opponent matching it with two of her own.
Mordin holds out his arm, trying to line up a shot. A well placed incinerate would end this nicely. If he could get an opening.
"Shut up, Mother."
"Stop calling me that. Please," Sorrow softens the justicar's glare.
"Come on, Mother," The younger asari's voice hits a high, child like pitch. "Pretend all you want, but you're still my dear, dear mommy."
"Stop talking!" Mordin sneers, sweeping his hand upwards. A burst of flame shoots from his omni tool. The blue barrier protecting Morinth brightens and then gutters as the fire splashes against it.
Damn barriers.
She blinks at him, as if she forgot he was there. "You little-"
Samara's fist slams into Morinth's jaw, stunning her. She curses and back hands her mother.
"Bitch!"
"Tell her to hit the ground!" says a voice over Mordin's comm link.
"Down! Now!" he says.
Samara drops to a split.
"What are you do-" Morinth glances up, her mouth dropping as she sees the little red light settling between her eyes. "You-!"
The back of her head explodes as the shot makes impact. Blood bubbles from her mouth as she tries to gurgle out words. She lurches, hands spasming.
Amazing. Even after certain brain death, she keeps going. Truly a terrible creature.
No, no, no. It's just nerves acting out impulses. Can't romanticize her like some superstitious idiot. Ardat Yakshi are a genetic abnormality. Nothing supernatural about them.
"Still," Mordin mutters, "Can never be too cautious." He flicks his wrist, igniting her.
Her knees hit the ground and she falls, face first, at Samara's feet.
"Good riddance," he says.
A taloned hand grips his shoulder. "Are you okay, Professor?"
He looks up, catching the gaze of Garrus Vakarian. Past him is Tali'Zorah, waving away those few civilians who were brave enough to watch.
"Nothing to see here! Keep moving! Keep moving!" she says.
He nods. "Am well. Samara, however-"
Samara stands over the remains of her daughter. Her back is to him, so he can't see her expression. Unlikely it's one of joy. Family matters can be so complex, Mordin thinks. Thank goodness he never bred.
"I'm fine," she says.
Garrus helps Mordin to his feet. "Where's the Commander?"
Samara turns to them, mouth drawn in terror. "Oh no," she breathes.
She runs for the stairs, so do the rest. Mordin is the first to make it. The sight that greets him makes him wish he went last.
It was dark when they first entered the room. They didn't have time to process what had happened, but now, in the light of his omni tool he saw. Splashes of blood stain the walls in random spots. There was even some on the floor.
His quick mind pieces the scene together as he runs for Shepard. Morinth overpowered her. Threw her about the room like a doll. Busted her face. Broke her bones.
He drops to his knees, sliding to her side. She coughs as he cradles her head in his lap.
Alive.
She's alive.
"Shepard!" he says, stroking the blood from her lips.
Tali'Zorah cries out and hides her faceplate behind her hands. Garrus's mandibles flare, but quickly retract back into place. He approaches Mordin slowly, shouldering his rifle.
"What's the damage?" he asks.
"Ribs, humerus/ulna hinge fractured. Bruises. Possible internal bleeding-" Mordin takes a deep breath, "Damage extensive. Very, very extensive."
"Can you fix it?"
Mordin stares at her, running over each possible procedure. They stop. Dread takes over. What if she dies before he can help her? What if he—
He slaps his cheek.
Stupid, nonsensical thoughts. No place in a proper doctor's mind. Must focus. Must focus!
Must strangle what little life remains in the smoldering corpse downstairs.
"Professor!" Garrus yells, "Can we save her?"
"Yes," he answers, fingers resting on Shepard's forehead. "Must go to clinic. Must go now."