Author's Notes: Another warning for violence and (mostly minor?) character death.

Shepard stared. The krogan made that noise again, a cross between a growl and actual verbalization, and that was when it dawned on her: her translator was still sitting on the floor of Mordin's lab, ripped off her earlobe during their late-night conversation.

"Fuck," she said hollowly, and wasted no time sprinting behind a pillar.

"Commander," Mordin yelled, also taking cover. "Commander?"

"The one day you decide to be quiet, Garrus," she cried. "Mordin, what the fuck are they saying?"

Garrus looked surprised. "Ges 'k tenika hudh?"

Mordin's eyes widened. "Don't have translator," he guessed, then ducked as the concrete in front of him exploded, showering him with dust. Shepard swung out of cover and fired a few covering shots.

"Nope," she gasped, flicking her hand in the signal for reload , and Mordin hastily shouted something to Garrus that sounded like ni nichyki .

Garrus' reply was a screeching "GEN NICHY?!"

"BECAUSE I TOOK IT OFF!" Shepard bellowed, guessing what he meant, and she heard Mordin snort behind her.

"Can translate," he called.

"I know that! GARRUS! LEFT! GO LEFT!" she bellowed as he darted out of cover for a second; surprised, he sprinted back toward her.

"Ges aeikra?" he snapped once he was crouched.

"Mordin?"

"Says 'What are you doing?'"

"Tell him to just watch for my hand signals!" she yelled above the din, and quickly she signaled pointing to the pillar on the opposite side.

"He can understand you," Mordin assured her as they ran, then pointed to a collapsed pillar supported on either side by rubble. "Ahead - could shelter."

"No, I don't want to get pinned in." Her face was grim as she slotted another thermal clip into her rifle. "Oh, boy. This is going to be fun," she muttered viciously, then swung past the pillar and laid down covering fire again.

Once the gunfire momentarily died down, Garrus turned toward her. "Gen ni nichyki?!"

"'Why don't you have your translator,'" translated Mordin.

"Because Mordin and I were talking last night and I took it off," she hissed, rubbing a hand over her face. "Why the hell have you been silent all day? I would've noticed!"

Garrus' reply was nearly drowned out by a nearby explosion, but Mordin translated it dutifully. "Says 'lot on my mind.'"

Shepard opened her mouth to snap back, only to pause. "Yeah, I can't really fault you for that," she conceded. "Not your fault."

"Why did you not notice earlier?" Mordin wanted to know. "Thought you spoke with clan leader - Wrex?"

"Not this time - I talked with him last time we were here for Grunt. He was busy this time." She hissed as another explosion threw dirt over the small group. "Besides - you have the navpoint."

"Expected you to exercise some diplomatic effort." Mordin sniffed haughtily. "Have navpoint, but - DUCK!"

Shepard yelped as he seized her around the neck and pulled her down, just in time for a rocket to whiz past her head. "Ouch," she muttered, rubbing her throat, still sore from the allergic reaction to the batarian's skin a while ago.

Garrus muttered something nastily, and she kicked him.

"Look, we're here and we can't pull out," she told him firmly. "We're under fire and we need to get this Maelon guy. We'll stop when we can and catch up. Garrus, in the meantime, yell my name if you need me, and use hand signals." She nodded briskly. "Everyone caught their breath, now? Let's move out."

The gun fights were tense, but they managed. Garrus, knowing Shepard couldn't understand most of what he said, took her lead as best he could; Mordin translated during the slower moments, but there were definitely more than a few close calls.

As they drew closer to the main lab, she pulled Mordin aside while Garrus, still irritated with her, pointedly ignored them and cleaned out some dust from his rifle.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked in a low voice.

"Must get Maelon." Determined, Mordin's eyes were steely. "Will be fine."

Shepard heaved a sigh and ran one hand over her face. "If this turns into a hostage situation, there's a high chance that I'm not going to be able to understand a word," she muttered.

"Will translate," Mordin insisted. "Maelon brilliant. Good kid."

"All right." She readjusted her armor; the weight was getting uncomfortable. "Take the lead on this one?"

Mordin nodded.

"Midok," Garrus called after a moment, and they took positions and stepped through the door.

Maelon stood against the far wall, gesturing with both hands at a console; Mordin hesitated, then kept walking.

No restraints, no evidence of torture.

Maelon wasn't kidnapped.

"Don't understand," Mordin said pensively, eyeing his former student, and Shepard grimaced, knowing this conversation wouldn't be fun for anybody.

"Geig shaba, lirala, duq babezal nef nobh chyagew."

She saw Mordin open his mouth, but before he could speak, Maelon turned around and let out another string of Covus.

"Qa sec pul mne benohu deki quket royi?"

"He wasn't kidnapped," Shepard stated quietly, and Mordin glanced at her. "He came here to cure the genophage."

"Impossible! Entire team - Tey bog nokal! Vom bemnkal!" Mordin switched to Covus what seemed to be mid-sentence, his speech quick and indignant.

"Qa poli nobh veli Lira Solus? I bani chyeh! Ve lyu!"

Shit. More hostiles she couldn't understand was not something she expected. "Mordin, what's he saying?" Shepard asked in a low voice, but Mordin ignored her.

"Pufuzak yoa paw. Pek zos! Piykus! Lus hur ria! Kirbayrilya?" Mordin began to pace, gesturing wildly - a sour enthusiasm that was matched by his former student.

Shepard shifted uncomfortably, knowing full well she was at a disadvantage.

Maelon yelled something and gestured around him; Mordin pointed a finger at him accusingly and yelled back. Shepard busied herself while the salarians yelled, keeping half an eye on the conversation, and examined the room - any other points of entry for enemies, potential hiding spots, potential problems.

Garrus muttered something to her, and she gripped the collar of her armor and pulled it upward, trying to relieve her shoulders of the heavy weight for a moment.

"Can't understand you," she muttered back.

"Iakarul bomnu!" Mordin's student suddenly yelled, and she snapped her attention back to the conversation. Unsure of what was being said, she cautiously raised her pistol; in retrospect, perhaps not the best move, as Maelon spotted her weapon and immediately raised his omnitool, prompting Mordin and Garrus to follow suit.

In the blink of an eye, they were in a standoff, and she could only understand one person.

Maelon, clearly nervous, pointed the omnitool shakily between Shepard and Mordin. Mordin pointed right back, the air suddenly filled with the omnitools' electric whines. "Kubiru thoahk," Maelon croaked.

"Says - " Mordin began, but Maelon interrupted to say something else and gestured, the movement sharp and jerky.

"What is he saying?" Shepard asked, not moving an inch.

"He says - "

"Kezoirabh!" Maelon's fingers twitched inside the omnitool, and Shepard saw Mordin grind his teeth.

"Robkeu sao ratora," Mordin snapped irritably.

"Gehi," Maelon scoffed, hands still shaking. "Zu robkau ratora! Kubiru thoahk!"

"Aqae," Garrus muttered, though his eyes were wide, hands tense on his gun. "Il - " He broke off as Maelon yelled again, eyes wild.

"Put the omnitool down," Shepard said warningly, only to let out an irritated huff as Maelon let out another string of syllables. However... She thought quickly. Maelon was clearly not used to situations like this, though; she could likely break his focus. Without a second thought, she raised the pistol a few inches and fired a warning shot, landing on the far wall.

Maelon cried out, and Mordin, taking advantage, suddenly darted forward with blinding speed, not to throw an incineration or cryogenic shell, but to punch Maelon square in the jaw.

"No translator," Mordin growled.

"Gehi!" Maelon yelled back, lifting his hands in defense as Mordin rounded on him.

"Mordin," Shepard said warningly. "Translate."

"Not accepted experiments." Mordin switched back to English; he inhaled sharply. "Not accepted goals. Won't change. No choice. Have to kill you."

"Mordin, wait - "

"Dekir lez! Dekir - "

What happened next was very fast. Shepard took a step forward, arm raised; Mordin drew his gun and thrust Maelon against the wall; Maelon raised his hands, omnitool still armed, and one finger twitched.

The omnitool fired.

In such close proximity, shields and armor did little to help. The blast happened in a split second; Shepard was on fire. The flammable omnitool residue covered her entire left side; Garrus let out a bellow and threw the flaming Commander to the floor, then yelled and began swatting flames off of his own armor. Mordin looked back to his student, his expression of shock replaced by fury.

"Siy?" he asked thunderously.

"I - I - " Maelon stammered. "Sec du 'n iahk - " He stopped, eyes fixed on the muzzle of Mordin's gun pressed to his broad forehead.

"Gone too far." Mordin adjusted his grip on the pistol, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Krogan buzkalub eihohak yoiak, liralah," Maelon told Mordin shakily. "Rachyeh rairau."

"Chyiair mothei pul rehoh," Mordin said coldly, and fired.

"She's an idiot," Garrus muttered to Mordin as they entered the medbay.

"Well-meaning," Mordin reasoned, though his brow was furrowed.

"She's going to be fine." Dr Karin Chakwas greeted them as they neared; she quietly put away a book she had been reading at the Commander's bedside. "She's hardier than this, by far."

"Still," Garrus muttered, surveying the heavily-bandaged Commander, as if searching for something. "Shouldn't have happened. Why didn't she have her translator on?"

"We were talking," Mordin said evasively.

"Yeah, you mentioned," Garrus said, picking at his fingers casually. "Why the hell would she take her translator off?"

"Were talking about translators," Mordin said shortly.

"She got set on fire," Garrus snapped, irritable. "What the hell would have made her take it off?"

Dr. Chakwas stood gracefully, her expression tired but calm. "I'll leave you two boys to it," she said lightly. "I'm going to get some dinner; I'm famished." She then turned before she left and intoned, "Do not wake my patient."

Garrus watched her leave. "You know, for a rather unassuming woman, she sure can make something neutral sound like a threat."

"Necessary for doctors sometimes."

"Are you going to tell me?" Garrus asked frankly. "Because she literally got set on fire over this."

"I know." Mordin inhaled, the cool air soothing airways still irritated from the Tuchanka atmosphere. "Private matter."

"So you won't tell me." Garrus flopped down in the chair Dr. Chakwas had been sitting in. "Fine."

"Upset about that?" Mordin wanted to know, spinning a chair from the adjacent bed over to Shepard's.

"I'm upset because it put her in danger."

"Aware of that," Mordin said neutrally. "Didn't mean for any harm - "

"Well, she's covered in burns now because some idiot wouldn't believe that she couldn't understand him," Garrus snapped.

Mordin raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Didn't mean for any harm," he said, enunciating clearly. He eyed the sleeping Commander, thinking. "Both should have known," he decided, though his tone was dull. "Commander should have noticed, I should have remembered." He inclined his head. "She will be fine."

"That's all you'll say?" Garrus leaned back and rubbed his hands over his face, dermal plates rasping over each other. The silence was otherwise only punctuated by a rustle of sheets as the sleeping commander shifted slightly.

"My fault," Mordin said quietly; Garrus could hardly hear him, and didn't respond.

After several minutes, Garrus finally spoke. "Your fault?" he repeated.

"My student," Mordin said, voice still soft. "My fault."

Garrus resumed rubbing his hands over his face. "Not because you got her to take her translator off," he muttered. "Because he's your student."

"Rubbing like that will cause flaking," Mordin chastised him absently, and Garrus made a face, though he stopped rubbing his face. "And yes."

"I'm surprised you shot him."

Mordin didn't let any emotion show as he replied, "Why?"

Garrus shrugged. "Sometimes you frighten me a little," he told the salarian, who gave him a quizzical look.

"Frighten you?"

"You're a doctor, yeah," Garrus commented, "but you're also kind of… cold sometimes, you know that?"

Mordin mulled this over for a moment. "Only to people who deserve it," he decided.

"And who decides who deserves it or not?" Garrus asked dryly. "Oh, that's right. You."

"Can only function with what one knows," Mordin said, slightly defensive. "Confidence in action is not ill-advised."

"Yeah, but you shot a former student. A former student who was clearly no longer a threat." Garrus sat further up in his chair; he'd been slouching. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

Garrus snorted. "Look, I may not know you as well as the Commander here, but I can tell when someone's shaken," he informed the other man. "Are you okay?"

Mordin eyed him. "Yes," he said, his demeanor inching toward icy.

Garrus looked him over, thoroughly; just when Mordin was about to open his mouth, he spoke. "You're a hellishly good liar, Mordin, but with all due respect, shut the fuck up if you're not gonna tell me the truth."

Mordin opened his mouth, but didn't speak for a moment. "Very well," he said, at last.

"Are you going to tell me, really, why Shepard's translator was off?"

To Garrus' surprise, Mordin thought it over for several moments. "Partially," he stated. "Were talking about translators - drawbacks, pitfalls, vulnerabilities. Commander got upset, pulled translator off." He inhaled, as was his habit. "Left it in my lab."

Garrus nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Makes a bit more sense." He frowned. "And I suppose you won't tell me what those pitfalls and drawbacks are? I use a translator, you know."

"Not common issues," Mordin assured him. "Rare. Except for philosophical aspect."

"Philosophical?" Garrus asked blankly, and Mordin nodded sagely.

"Language influences how one thinks," Mordin told him. "Translator can influence in turn."

Garrus thought it over. "Like that old human thing," he remarked. "Uh… 1984 or something."

Mordin's eyes widened in pleased surprise. "Yes! Unexpected," he said, his words speeding up. "Did not expect you to have knowledge of old human classics! Intriguing."

"Yeah, I was reading up on human history a while ago." Garrus shifted in his seat. "Thought it was a history book for probably the first half of the book," he admitted sheepishly. "Was thinking to myself the whole time, wow, humans are some bizarre creatures." He chuckled.

Mordin joined in. "Would be an… interesting history," he asserted, and Garrus laughed harder.

"Yeah, well, you'll never guess it - there was this human, right? Human friend of mine, I was trying to play wingman for another friend and I thought a reference to 1984 would be a good segue."

"Oh dear," Mordin said, amused.

"Anyway, ended up making a fool of myself because I hadn't finished the book and still thought that it was real - still haven't finished it, actually, I stopped when they told me it was fiction." He leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his neck.

"Should finish reading," Mordin advised. "Good book. Thought-provoking." He paused. "Can lend you a copy."

"So you say," Garrus said conspiratorially, though he relented. "Might not be bad to have something to read. But anyway. It's right up your alley, what with your…" He gestured aimlessly. "Language fetish."

"Fetish," Mordin scoffed. "No. Language important to life."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed, dropping the joking tone; he glanced at Shepard. "Think she's really gonna be okay?"

"Of course." Mordin stood up and grabbed the chart display at the foot of the bed. "All vitals good, tissue damage across surface area rather than depth - cosmetic rather than functionally inhibiting." He shrugged.

Garrus rolled his eyes. "I don't mean that. I mean…" He reached for the chart; Mordin handed it to him. "I mean, is she going to be okay."

"Metaphysically," Mordin supplied. "Sure she will be."

Garrus set the chart on the bed. "Sure hope so."

"Sure she will be," Mordin repeated confidently, sitting back down and running one hand over the linen sheets on the edge of the bed. "She is resilient."

"Not always a good thing, resilience."

Mordin looked at him, mildly surprised. "No?"

"Old quote. 'What I wouldn't give to never be called resilient again,'" he said. "'Exhausted by myself, I want softness and relief.' Or," he amended, "it's something like that. Translated from one language to another, it gets a little clouded."

"Ah." Mordin was quiet.

"But hey," Garrus said; there was a slight forced edge to his cheeriness. "Let's not focus on that. Meanwhile, I hear you play a mean game of chess."

"You know how to play?" Mordin asked, head tilted to the left, and Garrus chuckled.

"She's been teaching me," he said, waving a hand at the Commander.

"Really." Mordin sat back, amused. "Been teaching her, myself."

"Well, then, Master Mordin," Garrus said, picking up the display and handing it to him. "Why don't you show me a few things?"

Mordin grinned and began to set up the board.

Author's Notes (cont'd): This one kind of plays hard and fast with some of the logistical events in the game, i.e. having to actually talk to krogan in order to get to Mordin's loyalty mission. Ah well.

There's also a lot of bloody Covus in this, isn't there. (Is this me wanting to show off my Covus? Maybe. You can't prove anything, though.)

The important bits can be summed up as: Maelon kept yelling "shut up" and "drop your weapons," as well as calling Mordin a liar when Mordin said Shepard didn't have a translator on. Most of the other Covus lines in this were translated directly from the game. The two lines I DO want to actually translate back into English are the last two said in Covus; Maelon says his farewell line of "The krogan didn't deserve what we did to them; the genophage needs to end!" and Mordin replies "Find peace [in] death."