Author's Note: Before we begin, I'd just like to note that every language mentioned in here is developed as an actual language, not random syllables - it has its own grammar, conjugation, pronunciation, and style. When I need a phrase in that language, I develop the base vocabulary first (the site "vulgarlang" has been an incredible help!) and then translate the phrase I need, complete with grammatical tense and declension and all. What can I say? I like language. (If anyone would like to know more about these languages, by all means - ask! It's a VERY big interest of mine.)

Not beta-read, so I'll be editing it a bit as I read over it in the future.

Please note the only chapters with violence in it so far is Chapter SIX, EIGHT, THIRTEEN, and FOURTEEN, with the only discussion of abuse/torture in Chapter SEVEN and TWELVE. Chapter FOURTEEN has the torture scene (easily skip-able if that's not your thing).

"Hey. Mordin?"

"Shepard." The salarian inclined his head. "Can't sleep?"

"No." She sighed. "Something woke me up and I can't get back to sleep. Mind if I - ?"

"No, not at all." He gestured across his worktable, and she pulled up a seat from the nearby desk.

"What are you doing up, anyway?"

"Collector data," he answered smoothly, tapping one display with a long finger - sans gloves, for once, she noticed. "Had an idea."

"You never sleep," she accused him, and he shrugged.

"Do sleep sometimes," he told her lightly, tapping his keyboard a few times before dimming the display. "Need something? Or just sleepless?"

"You can keep working," she said tiredly. "I just… well, I don't feel like staring at my ceiling."

"Nice view," he remarked, and she shrugged. "Ah. Don't want to be alone?"

"Count on you to be bold enough to say that," she grumbled, and he flashed her a quick grin.

"Need distraction, or want to talk about it?" he prompted.

"What is there to talk about? I had a weird dream and I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

"Weird dream?" he inquired, and she shrugged.

"It's nothing. You mentioned distractions. What do you have?"

"Ah, hm." He tapped one long finger to his cheek. "Films, books, music - ah, chess." He reached up and flipped the display down so it was flat on the worktable. "Chess?"

"Chess?" she asked blankly.

"Chess. Play chess. With me." A few more gestures and the display changed to a basic chess board outlined in garish orange over the white tabletop. "Good distraction. Requires focus."

"Chess," she repeated hesitantly, and he nodded. "You're going to thrash me, aren't you."

"Will refrain from any thrashing," he said, his tone teasing. "Besides. Would defeat the purpose of distractions."

"Yeah, I guess so." She sighed, stretched, popped her fingers, and leaned her elbows on the table. "Who starts first?"

Mordin gestured to her, and she obliged, moving a pawn forward two spaces. He responded by moving the opposing pawn until the pawns were nose to nose.

"Why chess?" she asked curiously as they continued to play.

"Why not?" he replied. "Good exercise of mental faculties. Requires strategy, doesn't require excitement. Requires focus without stress - if you have the right opponent, that is."

"Which is you," she supplied, and his eyes narrowed humorously. "Because you'll go easy on me."

"Not necessarily," he said, swiping a captured pawn off the board. "Told you - would defeat purpose of distraction. Need sense of challenge to keep focus."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, eyes roving over the board, then moved a bishop along two spaces. "But why chess ? Why not something else?"

"You have a preferred game?" he asked curiously, moving a pawn forward one space. "Could have chosen go, I suppose."

"Go?"

"Go, ancient Chinese game about capturing areas of board from opponent. Renowned for being most complex game with simplest rules."

"Why not a salarian game?" she wanted to know.

"Chess similar to a salarian game," he told her, and promptly captured her knight. "Pay attention."

"Is it? How's it different?" She frowned, then moved her bishop to capture a pawn.

"Played similarly. Board has two more rows, more pieces, different rules for different player colors… Played faster." His eyes twinkled. "Not many humans good at it."

"No?"

"Games typically last five minutes. One game averages two hundred moves."

"Two hundred?" she asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous."

He shrugged. "Played faster than humans normally manage. One move every… hm, second and a half?" He nodded. "Very tiring."

"Wow." She grinned as she captured a castle. "You should try playing that with EDI some time."

"Hm. Hadn't thought of it," he admitted, and moved his queen away from her advancing bishop. "Would be interesting." He inhaled sharply. "You have a preferred game?"

"Not really," she told him, moving her bishop away from his small line of pawns. "I can't say I play many board games."

"You should," he said simply. "Good exercise."

"Doesn't have much to hold to real strategy," she mused.

He flicked her forehead. "Doesn't have to. Exercise logic abilities."

"I guess. Ah, damn it." She cursed as he swiped her queen off the board.

"Focus," he admonished, and she glared.

"I am focusing. You're talking to me."

"Can focus on both," he informed her, moving a pawn forward, and she huffed.

"Hey, Mordin?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something odd?"

He eyed her. "Yes. Cannot guarantee to have answer, though."

"Why do you speak like that?"

He blinked at her.

"What? I - sorry, did I just ask you something bad?" she asked, grimacing.

"No." He started to grin, and reached forward; she froze as his hand went to her earlobe, only to pinch the translator clipped to it and switch it off.

"Mordin, what are you - ?"

"Translator," he said simply.

"Yeah, now I won't be able to understand you," she said plainly.

"No. Don't use translators," he said, and swiped one more pawn off the chessboard. "Watch your king."

"But I - " She fell silent. "Wait. You speak English?"

"English, Mandarin Chinese, Palaven, Thessian, Krestnock, Drellian, Covus, Vresh, a bit of Khelish and Batarian. Oh, and can understand some Kahjeian."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mordin?"

"Yes?"

"Why, for the love of stars, would you need to know that many languages?"

He chuckled. "No translator."

"I thought that's what this was." She reached out; he jerked back initially, then allowed her to tap the metal frame rising from his shoulder.

"Oh. No." He shook his head. "Used for recording and playback of notes, music."

"Oh. Huh." She frowned at the board. "Yeah, you aren't going easy on me."

He chuckled. "Never said I would."

"So does that mean you hear all of us speaking our own languages?"

"Yes."

"All the time?"

"Yes."

"Why not just use a translator?" she wanted to know.

He shrugged. "Some information always lost when using translators," he stated. "Prefer to know whole story. Draw own conclusions." His gaze flicked to the side, as if deep in thought for a moment. "Also, don't like things in my head," he added.

"All right, I can get that." She nodded. "But - that still doesn't answer my question."

"No?"

"Why you don't ever say 'I' or anything."

"Oh." He placed a pawn forward one space. "Check," he said, and she groaned. "Salarian accent."

"So if I went to any other salarian and got them to speak English, would it sound similar?" She moved her king.

"Depends on how fluent they are," Mordin answered honestly. "Me, prioritized scientific fluency over social. Typically use hybrid of Covus and English grammar when speaking. Salarian language omits all unnecessary words - no use in wasting time or breath, right?" he said briskly. "Although…" He paused in thought, his eyes twinkling again, then spoke. "Just for fun, if I want to, and if I think about it ahead of time, I can say sentences with full English grammar. Check mate."

"Damn it."