Author's Note: Many thanks to the wonderful Aroaceaaah for beta-reading this chapter and helping to wrangle it into a coherent little tale! I don't think this chapter would be getting posted without them.

(Note: this chapter happens in between the two "parts" of the previous chapter, i.e. after Jack visits Mordin, but before they do her loyalty mission.)

"Are you all right?" Thane's deep voice echoed around the medical bay, and Mordin, lost in thought, came out of his reverie.

"Pleasant enough."

"Are you sure?" Thane asked curiously, relaxed on his bed. "You appear tense."

"Fine," Mordin replied neutrally.

Thane leaned back, his head resting on his pillow, propped behind his head as he sat. "Very well, then."

Silence stretched on, broken only by Thane's breathing and Mordin's tapping at his display.

"Are you busy?" Thane asked suddenly, and Mordin's tapping paused.

"Yes."

"You appear to be playing chess."

Mordin paused. "Also taking notes on fuel considerations."

"I would like to play," Thane said mildly, and Mordin regarded him curiously.

"Played before?"

"Yes." Thane continued staring across the medbay, his hands loosely over his stomach. "Many times before."

"Really?" Mordin asked, and Thane inclined his head.

"It was to pass the time. Gentle fingers on a display - small, innocuous. Curtains billowing into my view. The light in the room reflecting off the screen, sunset colors." The last few phrases were said in a rapid, quiet tone.

Mordin stayed silent for a moment, then asked, "Memory?"

"A small one." Thane gave him the barest hint of a smile. "Drell minds work differently, as I am sure you know."

"Memory," Mordin mused, absentmindedly setting up a chess game. "Chess?"

Thane glanced down at the display on his own bedside table; Mordin had sent the chess game to it so neither of them had to move beds. "Very well."

Mordin made the first move, directing a pawn forward two spaces; Thane moved his own pawn forward. The two went back and forth several times, neither gaining nor losing at the start.

"Leg okay?" Mordin asked casually.

"Painful," Thane noted, "though it is far from unbearable."

"Good, good."

Thane settled into his pillows and moved a rook. "Doctor's opinion?"

Mordin flicked his eyes up to Thane's, then to his leg, then back to the chess game. "Don't have enough information. Lack of pain good."

Thane nodded, relaxed as he continued the chess game. "Fair enough."

The silence was comfortable enough, and Mordin captured several of Thane's pawns in a row with ease. "Have question," he said finally.

"I may have an answer," Thane remarked.

"Memory," he began. "Different for drell. Vivid."

Thane inclined his head. "Varies, but yes, vivid. Difficult to control at times."

"Know of biological reasons?" Mordin wanted to know, tapping his display idly. "Curious."

"I have to admit, I am not knowledgeable in that area," Thane confessed. "Do you have another question?"

Mordin paused, eyes on the chess game for a moment, then decisively moved a bishop. "Regular?"

"Sometimes." Thane tapped his own display and captured the bishop. "External stimuli may trigger it, or on occasion, internal thought."

Mordin remained quiet, thinking. "Salarian memory also different," he finally commented. "Brain produces neurological tags connected to each memory designating as past. Very efficient."

"Do you not get lost in a thought, then?" Thane asked inquisitively. "I have seen you reminisce - or, appear to."

Mordin shook his head. "Revisiting memories possible."

"Ah." Thane nodded, inhaled deeply, then sighed. "Drell memory is very… intense. Sometimes it's unclear what is reality and what is not."

"Inefficient," Mordin observed before he could stop himself, and winced.

Thane didn't take offense, however. "Perhaps. Does get in the way of everyday tasks at times," he said with a quirk to his lips. "Distracting while trying to, say, brush one's teeth."

Mordin returned the slight smile and returned his attention to the chess board; Thane was trying to go after his remaining bishop. After moving the bishop to safety, he gave a brisk nod. "Understandable."

Thane remained quiet, making his moves with no sound but the tapping of fingers on his display, then finally said, "I know why you're asking."

Mordin hesitated, one hand raised to his display. "Why?"

"You wonder about memory," he said quietly. "How it works, how it follows different people."

Mordin paused, thoughtful. "Wish to compare. Similarities, differences. Draw conclusions."

"Very clinical."

Mordin gestured to himself. "Scientist."

"So you are." Thane shifted and pushed a pillow into a more comfortable place before continuing. "If you have further questions, I am here." Again, he was quiet for a moment, then added, "We worry."

Several moments passed, then Mordin captured Thane's queen. "Check."

Thane moved his own bishop between Mordin's knight and his own king. "Averted."

Mordin moved his knight back. "Worried about me?"

"Yes. You remain clinical, yet you seem bothered." Thane nodded. "You are a member of the team." He moved a rook and set his display on his lap, then noted, "You also happen to mean quite a lot to Shepard."

"Ah," Mordin said lightly. "Friend of a friend."

"Not in harsh terms," Thane said mildly. "You are important to her, therefore you are important to me as well. While I understand we are not as close, worry does not require closeness."

"I see." Mordin sucked in a breath, then let it out, staring at the chess board.

Thane took a breath, then spoke carefully. "She has confided in me. Nothing personal," he said quickly, holding up a hand. "She has confided her own worries. It troubles her."

Mordin remained silent, moved a pawn, then said, "Shouldn't."

"Why not?" Thane asked, his tone even as ever. "You are her friend. You yourself seem troubled."

Mordin thought that over. "Difficult present. Difficult future. Of course troubled. All are."

"That is a fair point."

They each made their respective moves.

"Also worried," Mordin finally stated, and Thane looked at him curiously.

"About Shepard?"

"Yes."

"She is strong."

"No doubt in that," Mordin mused, examining the board. "Resilience not always good."

"Is it not?"

"Resilience - requires constant vigilance. Strength. Sometimes people desire softness, comfort, reassurance."

Thane contemplated this as the chess game continued. "I see your point."

"Will survive, though."

"You seem confident in that declaration," Thane remarked.

"Confident in convictions," Mordin murmured.

"Apparently." Thane tapped his display, moving a lone pawn in hopes of capturing Mordin's offending knight. "Do you have difficulty with that?"

"Confidence?"

"I can see it easily turning to brashness."

Mordin smiled. "Analysis, rationality. Careful consideration."

"You come to these conclusions rapidly."

"Salarian," Mordin said with a gesture. "Always think quickly."

"True."

They made several moves each, then Mordin moved his own queen forward. "Check mate."

"Ah," Thane said, his tone tranquil. "Well done."

"Good game," Mordin remarked.

Thane set the display to the side and shifted on his pillows into a more comfortable position. "Thank you."

"For chess?"

"Yes," Thane answered. "It's been a while since I have played." He paused. "I haven't played in - hm. Years." He inhaled. "The feeling of hard plastic under my fingers; the sharp white light of the lights overhead. Gentle fingers on my hand. A smile; meant to be reassuring. Sunset eyes watching me."

Mordin waited for the memory to pass. "Good memory?" he asked inquisitively.

"Well enough," Thane replied. "Not a bad one to revisit."

Mordin was silent; then curiously asked, "Good, bad memories?"

Thane glanced at him, his demeanor still peaceful and mild. "Difficult to control. They can be… unpleasant, as you can imagine."

"Lost in memory?" Mordin asked.

"One can pull out of it. Sensory experiences. Habitual mantras. For drell, a skill akin to lucid dreaming, as well."

Mordin nodded, thoughtful. "Makes sense." He tapped his display, closing the chess window. "Thank you."

Thane settled deeper into his pillows, his eyes half-lidded. "Do you have other questions?"

"Only biological ones."

"Clinical, again," Thane noted; Mordin couldn't read his tone. "If you do not have any other questions for me, then I must rest. Thank you for the chess game, though recent events have been tiring."

Mordin nodded and set aside his own display. "Sleep well," he replied.

After the drell had wriggled down into bed and begun to sleep, Dr. Chakwas entered. She said very little, bustling around the medbay until she had nothing else to do, and stood at the foot of Mordin's bed, arms crossed, a stern expression on her face.

"So," Dr. Chakwas said evenly.

Mordin took a breath. "Hello."

Dr. Chakwas picked up his chart, speaking quickly. "Your injuries are doing well. You'll be healed in no time. I've got salt water for you on the bedside table, and I'll have some food for you soon."

Mordin remained quiet for a moment, then asked, "Irritated?"

Dr. Chakwas paused, then sighed. "No," she muttered. "I'm not irritated at you, you didn't injure yourself - though this little stunt could have been avoided." She shook her head. "No, I'm worried."

Mordin's face was neutral. "Worried?"

"We've been over this. You're putting far too much stress on yourself," she stated, setting the chart back down. "You're not young any more, Mordin."

"Able enough," he murmured.

"You were caught," Dr. Chakwas said bluntly. "Frankly, I'm surprised you've managed this well."

Could have been worse, Mordin thought, though didn't voice it. "Okay," he said softly.

Dr. Chakwas turned. "Hardly," she told him. "Numerous lacerations, several burns, a near concussion, and a sedative compound on top of it."

"Okay, though," he repeated.

"Only because I've patched you up." Her voice was hard. "Mordin, you need a break."

"Off active duty," he muttered rather resentfully.

"Not what I mean," Dr. Chakwas fired back. "You need an actual, relaxing break."

Mordin shifted on the bed and propped himself into a sitting position. "And do what?" he asked calmly. "Cannot use lab right now. Cannot research, cannot - "

"Those aren't relaxing breaks, Mordin," she told him flatly. "What do you do to relax? Not researching or working."

Mordin remained quiet, then stated, "Read. Watch films. Sing."

"Can you do any of those now?" Dr. Chakwas wanted to know. "You've laid here, hardly moving. You need some form of stimulation."

"Haven't been talking," he murmured, and Dr. Chakwas paused.

"Context?" she asked; Mordin winced.

"You have not been talking to me," he clarified. "Covus grammar. Sorry."

"I wanted to let you rest. I was under the impression you'd been sleeping, but I've seen you awake most of the time recently."

"Thinking," was his reply.

"You need something to do," Dr. Chakwas stated firmly. "I won't let you stay idle. A fellow like you needs occupation."

"Research. Upgrades necessary," he stated, though Dr. Chakwas shook her head.

"Relaxing," she chastised, then her demeanor softened. "Mordin, a lot has happened in a very short amount of time. You need something to relax."

"Relaxed enough - " Mordin began, but Dr. Chakwas held up a hand.

"No," she said. "Your mind is taking its time analyzing. With as analytical as you are, that makes sense."

Mordin frowned, but sat back and didn't say anything, considering her words.

"How about we do something tonight?" Dr. Chakwas said conversationally, walking over to her desk. "Something calm, not work-focused. Watch another film, perhaps."

"Seems pointless," Mordin murmured, and Dr. Chakwas turned to him.

"Mordin, you need rest. We all do. Hell," she said, gesturing around her, "we're all overworked and sleep-deprived. Why do you want to keep working?"

"Need to stop Collectors."

"You're working yourself half to death," she informed him flatly. "I can't very well order you to relax, but I do, at the very least, agree with the Commander that you need to take a break."

"Unfair," he snapped, the word leaving his mouth before he quite got a handle on the tone, and Dr. Chakwas raised one eyebrow, unfazed.

"She was right to take you off active duty, Mordin. I understand your irritability around feeling like you're not able to help right now, but you're using work as a distraction, too - albeit one that wears you out." She turned back to her desk. "I encourage you to look at what you're feeling. You're a scientist; analyze it."

Mordin closed his mouth, and she left him alone for a moment to mull her words over. Perhaps there was some merit to her approach? He did trust her opinion as a doctor - he'd trusted her enough to put his life in her hands as he experimented on himself. He tilted his head back, paying close attention to his internal processing. Stubbornness. Irritability. At what? Not Dr. Chakwas, he noted - something else. Not Shepard - though there was some tension there. No, this was toward something else; something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Sorry."

Dr. Chakwas glanced up from the display clasped in her hands. "It's all very well, Mordin, We are all under an immense amount of stress."

He returned to his thoughts; she didn't bother him. He ran through sensations in his mind: irritability, yes, but also… frustration. Unguarded - vulnerability? Anger. Toward what? And why?

The idea itself frustrated him, as if it were smoke he was trying to catch. Anger needed an object. An enemy. A target.

His focus shifted. Perhaps not a concrete target, he concluded; perhaps a concept.

Ah, there it was. Resentment at the sheer effect of things, the idea that the past could haunt him like a spectre.

Spectres. Shepard. She was insistent that he mull over these experiences that he'd tried so hard to leave behind, that he had constructed careful walls to seal off these ill memories - and yet, recently, they seemed to be climbing over those walls and seeping out the cracks. He grimaced - did he want to test the waters? Dive into another memory, see what happened?

"Karin," he said quietly, and Dr. Chakwas looked up.

"Yes?"

"Propose test. Memory - bad memory. Need to observe effect."

Dr. Chakwas put her display to the side, her page saved. "What do you mean?"

"Explore memory." Mordin inhaled, then exhaled. "Need to gauge effect on present functioning."

Dr. Chakwas frowned. "Are you telling me you want to poke one of these experiences?" she asked slowly. "And see what happens?"

Mordin nodded.

"That's not a good idea," she said instantly. "Like I said, you need to process things on your own time."

"Need to know," he said quietly. "Need to know effect."

She paused, then stood and approached him. "That's not a good idea," she told him softly. "You could actually hurt yourself. Physically or mentally."

Mordin considered this. "Spot me?"

"I'm not playing backup," she warned. "We've been over this. I am not here to solely patch you up."

Mordin went still - he remembered their conversation. "Not backup. Just…" He hesitated, thinking, then said, "Safety." Silence; then, he added, "Trust."

Dr. Chakwas leaned forward, gripping the end of the bed. "Mordin, I'm not going to consent to you possibly intentionally causing something so negative."

He inhaled, then exhaled again. "Safe environment."

"That doesn't mean you can't get hurt," she informed him. "No. I won't do this."

Mordin sighed, his brow furrowed. "Trust you, though."

"Then trust me when I say, it's not a good idea."

He frowned, but remained quiet, filing away the idea - this was a battle for another day. But, as he returned to his thoughts, his discomfort increased. He ran through his internal processes again - the irritability; the stiffness in his thoughts as he (not avoided, never avoided) focused on anything else; the anger, targetless - no, not targetless, at the concept, the idea that people kept pressing that the past was not something you could merely leave behind; the mild irritation most folks seemed to have at him, at the idea that this was somehow his fault, that he shouldn't have gone down that pipe in the first place, should have fought better, been more careful… Simple distractions felt like a cheat. He needed to be doing things, things to help, productive things that helped the team, not wild solo stunts.

That wasn't a good train of thought, some more sensible part of his mind informed him - what was done was done, so he tried to abandon it. True, perhaps he should have shown more care, should've handled the situation better - perhaps he was getting rusty? - but that was in the past, and here was now, not then.

Yet, his mind riffled through thoughts at top speed. People were irritated with him, he could tell - his fault?

His internal dialogue shifted. Our fault. Iahkarul bomnu, he had said - the student, the protégé, who had teetered on the edge of what was right and what wasn't.

His mind ventured further out, and he soon found himself reflecting on Tuchanka. Pre skhvist mo vner zlistriek eli? Sleli fstekh, the krogan had said. Pre pistr zlistek u skhvist fash bluk skhvist mo issh fpok?

Hope in the eyes of a thousand mothers, extinguished.

He pondered that for a while. One in a thousand; like gardening, he'd once said. A careful balance.

Our fault. Iahkarul bomnu. Mordin sighed, and leaned into the wall behind him. The krogan were aggressive, true; their numbers could easily threaten the galaxy, hence the need for a definitive solution. He couldn't help things that happened in response to a necessary act.

Iahkarul bomnu. Krogan dying, children born dead, mothers crying out and burying the bodies.

He delicately put that to the side, as usual. He couldn't be responsible for that; he'd done what needed to be done. The STG had agreed, had encouraged him, and reiterated the krogan threat until Mordin couldn't think of anything else when the topic arose.

That was a topic for another day, too, he decided, and shook himself. What had Dr. Chakwas said? Using work as a distraction?

His mind immediately returned to his last self-experimentation incident. He had gotten lucky; the reaction was easily handled, but nonetheless, he had spent countless hours working on it and nothing else, not even sleeping - despite the need for only a little of it - until he had finished a working prototype. Then, he had tested it late at night with only minutes of warning to Dr. Chakwas.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his sleep-deprived haze.

He opened his eyes to see Dr. Chakwas still sitting there, reading. "Karin?"

"Hm?" She didn't look up from her display.

Mordin hesitated, then spoke. "Would like to watch something."

She glanced up. "I thought you didn't." Her voice had no hostility or animosity.

"Changed mind," he said calmly. "Perhaps some merit to your approach."

"What do you want to watch?" Dr. Chakwas said smoothly, saving her page and clearing the display. "We've not got streaming, but we've got local files."

Mordin paused. "Anastasia? Saved it to local files when docked last."

"Joker wanted to watch that," Dr. Chakwas noted, and Mordin tilted his head to the side.

"Why?"

"Not sure," she commented. "He seemed insistent about it."

Mordin hummed. "Invite?"

"Up to you."

Mordin pondered the idea. "Invite," he decided.

Dr. Chakwas nodded. "Do you want to?"

Mordin shrugged, and Dr. Chakwas opened her comm line.

"Joker? Are you busy?"

"Nah, I'm just chillin'. Night off. What's up?"

"We're going to watch Anastasia. Would you like to come?"

"Hey, movie night! Sure thing. Conference room?"

"Medbay. I don't want Mordin moving just yet. His blood pressure keeps dropping when he stands up."

"Sure thing. Medbay it is. I'll bring the popcorn." He closed the link.

Mordin gave a brisk nod. "Load file?"

"Sure."

"This is not what I had in mind when we invited you," Dr. Chakwas commented, awkwardly sandwiched between Grunt and Garrus. "I thought it would just be you."

"You thought wrong," Joker declared, tapping his fingers on the chair - he was sitting on it backwards. "Movie night! We haven't had one in a while." He flashed a smile. "And I get to cheer up my best lethal scary doctor friend!"

Said 'best lethal scary doctor friend' glanced up from his omni-tool. "Crowded," he said neutrally.

"Aw, come on," Joker cajoled. "We're gonna have fun. We've got it up on all the displays, and…" He raised one hand, holding a remote. "We're all comfy, right?"

"Sure," Dr. Chakwas said sarcastically, squeezing out from between the two aliens. "If I can't discourage you all from congregating in here, I'm going to find food."

"Can you grab me another tube of paste?" Tali asked.

"And maybe some more popcorn?" Joker interjected.

Dr. Chakwas rolled her eyes. "Does anyone else want anything? Mordin, you haven't eaten. What do you want?"

He paused and made as if to shake his head, but at Dr. Chakwas' warning glance, he relented. "Salad."

"Any dressing?"

Mordin shook his head. "Salad."

"All right." Dr. Chakwas eyed the rest of the gathered crew, crammed into the small medbay, and with a roll of her eyes, she left to the galley.

Mordin glanced around the room, noticing Shepard was conspicuously absent - but otherwise, the crew seemed in good spirits, and he leaned back into the wall behind him once again.

"You doing okay, bud?" Joker scooted his seat closer to Mordin, and asked quietly.

Ah, here it was. Mordin braced himself for the inevitable lecture, yet again, that he had been reckless. "Yes."

"You sure? I don't mean to prod."

"Yes," Mordin said, forcefully but not unkindly. "Lots of people asking me that."

"You were captured, dude," Joker said bluntly. "We're worried about ya."

Mordin furrowed his brow. "Worried?" he questioned once more.

"Yeah. Worried. You know, when you're concerned about someone? You want someone to be okay?" Joker tapped his fingers on the chair again idly. "You're scary, but you're part of this crew, whether you like it or not."

"Part of crew. Factual? No. Implied community value there," Mordin clarified.

"Shepard collects us," he stated. "Takes oddball people and puts them together in a team. And somehow, it works." He paused, then added, "I'm not kidding. People were really worried about you for a bit there."

"Okay," Mordin assured him softly, and Joker snorted.

"If you say so," he remarked. "But we're here and we're not gonna let anything happen to you."

Mordin crossed his arms and thought. This was indeed a ragtag crew, composed of strange people from across the galaxy - but they were intent on team preservation, it seemed. Worried about him, he mused - he expected irritation. This almost felt reassuring. "Thank you," he told Joker, who raised one eyebrow.

"For what?" he asked suspiciously.

Mordin inclined his head. "Popcorn."

"You don't even like popcorn," Joker accused him, though was distracted as Dr. Chakwas returned, arms full of food.

"Here we are," she said, handing Mordin a plate full of salad once she had handed out the other food items. "Are we ready to start?"

"Sure thing," Joker answered, and held up the remote. "Everyone ready?"

There was a chorus of affirmation, and Joker hit play.

"Next time I won't go so easy!" After some time, as the movie played, Mordin settled into his bed further and continued to think.

"Where did you learn that? You're good!"

Mordin sighed - he'd seen this many times, and though he liked it as ever, his thoughts began to wander, returning to several nights before. His fight with Shepard seemed far away, as if it had happened weeks ago. He hated to leave them each on a bad note, but he didn't see a way around it; if she was set in her ways, so was he. Her insistence that he define his own experiences the way she did was rather irritating - he should have the final opinion on how his own experiences were received by his own self.

"I grew up on the sly, in the gutters and the streets of Petersburg; just a kid on the fly…"

"Yeah, sing it, Mordin!" Joker crowed, then took a drink, and Mordin jerked, startled, then let out a hiss as his shoulder gave a twinge. Had he been singing while he thought?

"Yeah, sing!" Tali chirped. "You're so good at it."

Mordin glanced around hesitantly, half his mind still on Shepard. "Not sure if I should," he said neutrally.

"Aw, come on, man," Joker told him. "It'll make you feel better."

"Yeah, come on!" Jacob piped up from the back. "No pressure, though."

Mordin slowly looked from one face to another. "Maybe later."

"Are you sure?" Tali asked.

"Maybe later," Mordin repeated quietly.

"Aw, but - " Joker began, but fell silent as several people turned to him, their faces a warning. "Okay. Fine."

"Some give up, some give in, me - I won't! Black and blue, welcome to my Petersburg!" The recording continued, and Mordin stared at it, seeing but not processing the story.

"Hey," Joker muttered under his breath after some time. "You need anything?"

Mordin glanced at him in mild surprise. "No."

"Then eat your salad," Joker told him. "You haven't even touched it."

"Hush," Samara commanded, and Joker fell silent.

Mordin slowly began to eat.

"All I've been, all I'll be, we can do what we're told - we can go where we're led! But I learned from my father to see what's ahead, nothing here to hold me…"

He sighed, chewing his salad, pensive, and began to mutter under his breath.

"Boils down to there are some who have walls yet to climb!"

The song finished with a flourish, and there was a smattering of tinny applause coming from the recording.

"I like him," Joker remarked. "He's a jerk, but a good-hearted jerk."

"Dmitry?" Tali clarified, and Joker nodded.

"What can I say? I like a good fucker who can hold a note."

There was a bit of laughter, and Mordin couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Anybody need a bathroom break, while we're at it?" Joker called, but nobody replied, and the movie kept playing.

Mordin began muttering under his breath again as the next song started, and Joker glanced back at him, but didn't say anything, and merely took a drink.

"And a song someone sings… Once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully, across my memory…"

Memory - that had certainly been on his mind lately.

"Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm…"

He was singing quietly, though he hardly paid attention to it. He didn't notice several crew members quietly take a drink as he mused.

Memory. Lost in memory, caught up in it, other people trying to define it for him. His thoughts returned to Thane; perhaps some research into various methods of memory storage and neurological function was needed.

Eventually, the scenery in the recording changed, and the next tune arose.

"How to break the tide, we have shed our tears, and shared our sorrows… Though the scars remain, and tears will never dry…"

He continued to sing absently, lost in thought, as Shepard quietly slipped in.

"Get a grip and take a deep breath and soon, we'll know what's what; put on our show, rewards will flow, and we'll go from there!"

Several crew members took another drink as the next song began, and Shepard quietly sat down next to Dr. Chakwas at the side of the room.

"How's he doing?" she asked softly.

"He's resilient," Dr. Chakwas said. "He needs some space to process." She looked at Shepard pointedly.

"I know, I know," she said wearily. "I don't mean to press. I'm just…" She bit her lip. "Worried."

"He'll be okay," Dr. Chakwas reassured her. "You will need to talk to him, though - and address the way you took him off duty. It could have been done with more decorum," Dr. Chakwas added with a sharp glance. "We've got a very difficult mission coming up."

Shepard winced. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

Dr. Chakwas regarded the Commander for a moment. "He'll be okay," she reiterated.

"He'd better be," Shepard muttered.

"You had better be, too."

Mordin, meanwhile, had continued to sing, his quiet voice echoing around the small medbay - silent save for Mordin and the movie. The crew stayed quiet until the song ended. Several crew members once again took a drink.

Shepard eyed them suspiciously. "Are you all taking shots?" she asked, looking around the room; Mordin looked up, surprised to see her, and met her gaze. They exchanged an awkward glance, then looked away.

Nobody spoke; then, finally, Tali raised a hand. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Joker snorted. "You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway," she challenged, and Joker grinned.

"It's a game," he said.

"It's not that bad," Tali said in a small voice. "We just thought it would be funny."

"What are you all doing?"

Garrus spoke up, his voice deadpan. "They thought it would be funny to take a shot every time Mordin sang."

Shepard couldn't help it; she snorted, and eyed the crew. "You all are in on this?"

"Not all," Samara said, her demeanor stiff as always. "Some of us have abstained."

"Not all of us abstained," Joker said, taking a swig. "He sings every song."

"You're going to end up drunk," Shepard accused him, and he shrugged, not sheepish in the slightest.

"It's a night off," he said. "I can do what I want."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Don't say I didn't tell you so when you wake up with a hangover," she warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Joker said dismissively, and Tali giggled.

"Mordin? How do you feel about this?" Shepard asked.

"Amused," Mordin said with a slight grin. "Amused crew tolerates my singing."

"We don't tolerate you," Tali commented. "You are good at singing."

"At least you're not upset about it. If you are, though, just say so, and they'll stop," Shepard said with a withering glance around the room, as if daring anybody to challenge her.

Grunt snorted suddenly. "Stuff tastes weird." He took a sip, then held up his own drink, eyeing it as if it might explode. "Not good."

"It's not supposed to taste good," Joker scoffed. "It's supposed to - "

"You're missing a song," Jacob noted, pointing to the screen.

"No one ever mentions fear, or how the world can seem so vast, on a journey to the past…"

The crew fell silent. Quietly, Mordin continued to sing; though he meant to do so without drawing attention, several people noticed, and gave him encouraging nods. Eventually, at Joker's encouragement, he began to sing louder.

"I'll be safe and wanted, finally home where I belong. Well, starting now I'm learning fast on this journey to the past!"

Worried. Not irritable; worried, Joker had said, and Mordin looked around the room, filled with people giving him supportive looks or a quick thumbs-up. He stretched his arms out, then settled into his bed even further, slouched against the back wall, arms crossed loosely . All eyes on him, he paused to take a deep breath, then smiled as he continued, shoulders loosening.

"Finally home where I belong! Well, starting now I'm learning fast, on this journey to the past!"

Mordin settled into his bed, surrounded by friends, and continued to sing.

Author's Note: If you ever have a chance to watch the Anastasia Broadway musical, I highly suggest you do. It's a wonderful story with tons of historical references and a much more realistic storyline than the movie - though the movie is definitely a classic.

Seems this initial chain-of-loose-stories has accidentally developed plot. Oops.