Explosions, fire everywhere - Joker yelled in pain as she heaved him through the pod door.

Another explosion and she lost her grip, slamming into a bulkhead, her suit's impact resistors whirring as they tried to counteract the force. She seized the edge of the bulkhead and tried to reorient herself as Joker shouted her name.

"Shepard!"

Electricity arced through the walls toward her, and she lost her grip on the bulkhead, too, spinning slowly. Another explosion threw her into the edge of a wall, and her breath left her in a whoosh as her suit's impact resistors failed. She bounced off the wall, the explosion's force carrying her away.

Silence. She spun slowly as the Normandy burned behind her. She looked around, only hearing the sound of her own breathing, and as she took a strained breath, air hissing out of her suit, she opened her eyes and saw stars.

Shepard woke with a start, opened her eyes, and saw stars.

The window. Right.

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed, breathing heavily, and rested her head in her hands, her heart pounding out of her chest. She placed a hand over it, feeling the faint beating, as if reminding herself her body still worked.

It was just a dream.

Eventually, the adrenaline drained out of her system, and she slouched forward, exhausted. She debated about flinging herself back into bed and pulling the covers over her head - but, she reasoned, she was unlikely to be able to get back to sleep after that adrenaline jolt - besides, she'd need to be up shortly to get armored up, anyway. Instead of going back to sleep, almost on habit, she stood, slowly collecting a pair of sweatpants and a jacket.

Once on the main deck, she paused - it was far too silent without the crew, and her jaw tightened. She'd get them back. The Collectors wouldn't be able to stop her.

She walked around the deck absently, operating on autopilot until she stepped into Mordin's lab. A noise caught Mordin's attention, and he raised his eyes to meet Shepard's as she entered, her eyes red, and they both froze.

"Hello," she said after a moment.

"Hello." His own voice was crackly and hoarse.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked, as she realized his voice wasn't much better than hers.

"No. Woke just before you entered."

She took a deep breath, and took another step into the lab. "Are you going back to sleep?"

"No."

He saw her bite her lip across the room. "Can we talk, then?"

He finally stood, stretching until his hands nearly touched the ceiling, then dropped into his normal posture, readjusting his clothing. "Certainly," he said smoothly.

She leaned on the worktable, her elbows resting on the cool, hard plastic. "Are you all right?"

"Are you?" he asked.

"It doesn't look like your dream was very good," she remarked, ignoring the question.

"Likewise," he murmured, and she let her head drop down.

"No, not really," she admitted quietly.

He hesitated, then approached the worktable and popped his own display out of its cradle. "Want to talk about it?" he offered, beginning to tap on the screen.

She rolled her head to either side, stretching her neck, before responding. "I don't know," she muttered. "Same old dream."

"Unpleasant," he noted, and she snorted.

"Are we okay?" she asked bluntly. "We didn't leave on the best of terms."

He nudged her shoulder, and she glanced up; he handed her the display. "Okay," he assured her. "Still disagree with taking off active duty. But okay."

She winced. "I'm sorry about that," she muttered, taking the display. "I don't regret taking you off active duty - you needed rest, some time to exist without work. But I shouldn't have done it like that."

He paused, then inclined his head. "Thank you."

She blinked. "For what?"

"Apology. Disagree with method, but can agree - needed rest." He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. "Perhaps both can act better in future."

She let out a dry laugh, and nodded. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah." She glanced at the display, only just then realizing what he'd set up. "Chess?"

"If you like."

She paused, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

"Sit?" Mordin asked, gesturing to the cot in the back, and she nodded.

Once settled cross-legged on the cot, with Mordin sitting with one leg drawn up on the cot and the other foot on the floor, she moved a pawn forward a few spaces, then handed the display back.

"We'll be there soon," she said.

"Will need to get ready," he remarked, taking the display and quickly moving his own pawn. "Quick game?"

"Yeah." She took the display back, wasting no time moving a knight forward. "You holding up okay?"

He hesitated as she made her move and held the display out again. "Okay enough."

"Dreams?" she asked, and he shrugged. "I guessed." She sighed as they passed the display back and forth. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he muttered, and she snorted again.

"At least you're honest." She moved a rook, then passed the display back. "You sure?"

"Not much to discuss."

"If you say so," she remarked, then her face became grim; she fell silent for a long moment before continuing. "Do you think we're ready for this?"

"Upgraded armor, weapons, ship. Trained crew." He gave a brisk nod. "Can do this."

"You're very sure of yourself there."

"Confident," was his answer. "Good crew." He hesitated. "Trust crew. Work together well."

"It's a good group," she agreed, moving a knight to capture one of his pawns. "We got lucky."

"Have good eye," he told her, capturing the offending knight easily, and she rolled her eyes. "Hand-picked team specifically."

"The Illusive Man had some say," she muttered rebelliously, though relented. "It's a good group of people that works well together, like you said."

"Can do this." He met her gaze, then offered a slight smile. "If anyone can, team can."

She shifted on the cot before making another move. "They had better still be alive when we find them."

His movements slowed. "Yes," he agreed quietly.

"Are you holding up with that okay?" she asked. "I know you weren't as close with many of the Cerberus crew members, but I know you were friends with a few folks. Chakwas, particularly."

"Karin," he murmured, and she nodded.

"You two seem like good friends."

"Good friends, colleagues. Two different approaches - scientific, medical and holistic. Good combination."

"For science, or friendship?"

"Both."

"Fair enough. Ugh," she grumbled as he captured her last knight. "Still beating me at chess."

"Said needed distraction," he pointed out. "Challenge."

"Yeah, yeah. Shia kiraygoz."

"Kirgoz," he replied smoothly and she rolled her eyes again.

"I feel like I'm getting better, though," she said conversationally. "Am I?"

"Yes." He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Could still beat you," he said teasingly, "though getting much better." He paused. "Could likely beat Padok."

"I should play him, then," she remarked, and he chuckled.

"Would likely relish opportunity," he told her.

"How's he doing, by the way? Haven't heard you mention him in a bit."

"Ah - been helping with husk enzyme project. Skilled biologist. Good input."

"You trust him to do that?" she asked curiously.

"Quite. Good at biological processes, experiment methodology." He moved his queen forward, advancing on her own queen. "Bit more theoretical, but skilled regardless."

"How's the project coming? If we could inoculate people against becoming husks, that…" she paused, searching for the words, then continued. "That would be an enormous advantage."

"Good, bad," he stated. "Good that enzyme inhibitor works. Bad, method for making inhibitor in way that does not damage other processes is… time-consuming. Expensive."

She winced. "So probably not a viable mass-production sort of thing."

"Not yet. Determined, though."

She nodded, taking the display back and surveying the board. "Well, if there's anyone I trust to get that done, it's you. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll authorize nearly anything when it comes to that."

"Hey. Commander?"

"Hey, Joker. Any updates?"

"We'll still get there on time, but some of the crew is already in the conference room, going over strategies. They wanted me to let you know."

"Right," she said grimly. "Tell them I'll be there shortly."

"Save game for later?" Mordin offered.

"I suppose," she muttered.

He pointedly hit the save button. "Save game for later," he insisted as they stood.

She glanced at him wearily - but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. We'll finish it later. Armor up first?"

He nodded. "Ah - need to grab inoculations, as well as booster for swarm measure."

"Need any help?"

He shook his head, already starting to gather up vials and packaged needles. "No. Will meet you down there."

"All right." She hesitated as she turned to leave, then added, "We'll get her back, you know. All of them."

His motions slowed, then resumed, possibly even faster. "Know that."

"Okay. See you there."

The fight into the Collector base was tenser than any STG fight he'd been in. The unfamiliar architecture, the insectoid, utilitarian style, the Collectors themselves, the room of endless, endless pods…

He'd immediately volunteered to help the remaining crew make it back to the Normandy, and Shepard had agreed with him at once in one terse, curt nod.

Once safely on the Normandy, Mordin thoroughly examined each crew member, prioritizing the worst injuries and setting up more and more cots - both inside and outside the medical bay.

Even after each person was taken care of, Mordin kept himself busy. As the sole available doctor, he worked tirelessly duplicating the enzyme inhibitor to ensure no crew members' skin, lungs, or eyes continued to break down - and he was thankful he'd already been working on several ideas from the husk project, which allowed him the resources to synthesize a salve, more injections, even forms safe to use as eye drops or as inhaled mist.

Eventually, however, the weariness and sleeplessness of the past few days came to haunt him, and when he could no longer see the droppers or test dishes clearly in front of him, he took a seat near Dr. Chakwas' bed and dozed fitfully, dreaming in hapless bursts of chaotic stitched-together situations.

"Hey, little fishy."

Mordin turned and kicked away from the turian, his kick propelling him easily through the water, but a shout made him turn; he caught sight of a dark lab coat flash through his peripheral vision -

"Tell me, or I'll do it again." The scene shifted, as if gravity had inverted, and he was sitting on a cold metal chair in a room that looked suspiciously like the Normandy medical bay.

"Mordin?" A lighter voice made him turn, and he spotted Dr. Chakwas leaning forward, concerned. "Mordin, are you all right?"

He saw the turian out of the corner of his eye, his arm raised, and he opened his mouth to shout, for Dr. Chakwas to turn and run, but nothing came out as the turian raised his arm again -

The needle. Sedative compound, Dr. Chakwas had told him - he felt the cold prick at his forearm, but instead of mild dizziness, he felt cold race up his arm. No - that couldn't be, could it?

"Tell me, or I'll do it again."

"Tell you what?" he wanted to say, but whenever he opened his mouth, no words emerged.

"Tell me."

He turned as well as he could, as the cold began to seep toward his chest and his heartbeat increased, his muscles tensing involuntarily -

There was a shout, and his attention turned. Dr. Chakwas took a step back, her arms raised, as the turian advanced; Mordin, with considerable effort, ripped the line out of his arm and tried to take a step, but collapsed.

"Tell me, or I'll do it again."

"Wait," Mordin tried to say as the turian took a step, and Dr. Chakwas' back hit the wall. "Tell you what?"

Dr. Chakwas turned to dart past him, but the turian seized her arm as she ran past, sticking one foot out to trip her. She toppled over, and Mordin saw the turian reach for the discarded line.

He immediately scrambled, his still-freezing muscles making the motions difficult, trying to kick the line away; but the turian grabbed it and without hesitation, jammed it into Dr. Chakwas' arm, and she let out a scream.

There was a quiet noise, and he woke with a start, blinking, and took a moment to reorient himself in the medbay.

Dr. Chakwas was awake, the covers pulled up to her chin, not speaking, her eyes cast down.

"Karin," he said - or tried to say; the word came out as a whisper.

"Mordin," she replied, and he could blearily make out tear tracks on her face. She pulled at the covers, and he saw her shift slightly. "Mordin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you - " She broke off with a suppressed shudder.

"Okay," he said softly. "Okay. Safe now. Alive."

She took a moment to gather herself before she spoke. "I don't know how," she said quietly. "The rest were - they - I don't even want to - "

"Gone."

"Dead," she whispered. "They… disintegrated the colonists - everyone in that row - "

"Don't. You - alive," he murmured, gently touching her hands clasping the sheets - the surface of them was bruised and dry.

"I don't know how," she repeated weakly. "Those little robots - they - " She raised one hand and looked at it. "Tissue breakdown should've continued. I'm not sure what - "

"Enzyme," he murmured. "Enzyme inhibitor. Been applying salve. Stopped breakdown."

"Of course," she whispered back. "Goodness, Mordin - that's an awful lot of sheer luck, that is, you having already been working on those enzymes."

He nodded grimly. "Lucky."

"Are you all right?"

He glanced at her, blinking. "No."

She let out a grating, hoarse laugh, then coughed. "Well, at least you're honest this time."

He reached out one hand, gently touching the bruised surface of her skin again. "Skin breakdown - worried about hemorrhaging. Inhaled some."

"I'm breathing now, though. I think that counts for something."

He nodded slowly. "Likely correct."

She raised her eyes and surveyed the room once more. "Mordin?"

"Mm?"

"How are you holding up?"

He raised a brow. "How are you?"

She let out a ragged breath, pulling the sheets closer. "I'm… I'm not sure."

"Rest," he told her.

She looked around again, her eyes flicking from one corner of the room to another, then gave a tiny shrug. "I know rest is important, but… I'd rather not sleep right now," she said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. He glanced at her, but merely nodded.

Silence pressed on for another few minutes.

"Mordin?"

"Yes?"

"Might we talk?"

He inclined his head. "Bored?"

"Nervous." She took another breath, shaky and uncertain. "I - I need something to focus on. I'm sorry - if you're tired, you can sleep, and I'll wake you if you're needed. I need to… not be alone with my thoughts." She took another breath; Mordin saw her shoulders, tense, rise and fall. "I thought I'd die there. I saw - I saw people die, and I'd…" She stopped, and ran her tongue over her lips. "Please. I'd rather not think about it right now."

He nodded slowly, mulling that over. "Disturbing."

"For you, or for me?" she asked with a thin smile. "I can't imagine this has been a walk in the park for you, either."

"Not hurt."

"No, but you came back to find your entire crew - your friends - kidnapped." She took a breath. "And then, to find us in that place…"

"Got hurt," he stated, gesturing toward her. "Not me."

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

He took a glance around, then gave a halfhearted shrug. "Will be. Stuck - waiting for rest of crew."

"Shepard… She'll come through."

"Know that."

She watched him for a moment longer, then asked, "What were you dreaming about?"

"Hm?"

"You woke with a bit of a start."

He eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. "Not time for discussion."

"No? Why not?"

"Hurt," he answered.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she muttered. "You said it yourself - I'm alive, aren't I? Besides." She shifted on the bed. "I'd prefer something else to think about, especially if it's something I can help with."

"Not good time," he repeated.

She opened her mouth to reply, only to break off into a grating cough. "Oh, my, recovery from this is going to be tricky," she murmured hoarsely once it died down.

"Likely." He placed the tips of his fingers together, only to jump up as one of the other crew members let out a groan, and he hurried to their bedside instead.

Ever concerned, Dr. Chakwas propped herself up on one elbow. "Are they all right?"

He surveyed them, taking note of the color of their skin and placing one fingertip against their forehead. "Yes. Vitals not changed; eye movement rapid, breathing even. Likely dreaming."

"Should we wake them?" she asked quietly, and he hesitated, then grimaced and shook his head.

"Rest. Should be sleeping, but…" He gestured to her. "Won't insist."

"Are you going to tell me what your dream was?" she asked mildly, laying back down with the covers still pulled up to her chin. "You can talk about it. I don't mind."

He hesitated again as he took his seat. "Not important."

"Stubborn," she chided.

"Need lighter topic now. Dreams, not good topic."

"So it was a bad dream," she surmised, and he huffed.

"Not important."

She sighed, then nodded slowly. "I won't push."

His gaze flicked to her, then back to his lap. "Thank you."

"Any other ideas?" she asked.

He held up a finger, then strode over to Dr. Chakwas' desk and retrieved a spare display. "Distraction?"

A small smile. "Gladly."

"Film or game?" he inquired.

"Hm." Dr. Chakwas wriggled under the covers, kicking out gently to rearrange the sheets. "Film."

Mordin hummed and opened up the ship's media library. "New, or already seen?"

"Surprise me."

Mordin scrolled. "Hm. Limited selection. Need to download more when possible," he mused, long fingers flicking the screen. "Mood?"

"Something light, obviously," she commented. "Points if it's a musical. Nothing like Sweeney Todd."

Mordin tilted his head. "Sweeney Todd?"

"Musical about a serial killer. It's… dark," she remarked. "Though the music in it is superb."

"Hm," he said with mild interest. "Might put on list for later."

"For a much better day," she said wryly, and he nodded.

"Ah." One finger tapped a selection, and the screen went dark as it loaded. "Suitable?"

"Which did you pick? Ah." The title screen lit up to spell out The Wizard of Oz in elegant, sepia letters. "A little dated, isn't it?"

Mordin paused the film. "Prefer another?"

She frowned slightly - then shook her head. "I'm not in the mood to be picky. It's got its era issues, but it's a light story, and that's what we need right now, isn't it?"

"Can pick another."

"Nah. Go ahead."

Mordin pressed play.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow, blue birds fly…" After some time, the film's signature song began to play, and Mordin hummed along.

"You can sing it, if you like."

Mordin glanced over - despite the change in topic, and the distraction, her eyes were glassy, jaw still tense, and her shoulders rigid. After a moment, he shook his head. "Only if you sing."

She sighed tiredly and shook her head. "Not very in the mood, Mordin."

He hesitated for a split second before pausing the film. "Please?"

Her eyes flicked to his, then down, then back to the screen. "Are you thinking this will make me feel better?" she asked quietly.

"Perhaps." He shifted in his seat. "Helps me."

"You're a very musical person, by nature," she told him.

"Have appreciation of music, too," he replied. "Musicals preferred; know you can sing, too." He gently inclined his head toward the screen; her only response was a slight tensing of her hands on the sheets. "Okay?" he asked gently, and she sniffled.

"Oh, I'll be fine." She sighed. "Just… not in the mood, all right?"

He squeezed her shoulder, then let his hand fall. "Sure?"

She nodded, her eyes still closed. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I'm feeling rather… mm. Labile."

"Not a problem." He kept half his attention on the movie, half his attention on her. "Sorry. Meant to help."

"Oh, I know."

He stayed still for a moment, thinking - then nodded, and gently reached out to her again. "Anything else to help?" he asked.

She took an even breath. "Distractions."

Mordin turned his attention back to the film as it played, though he paused it again after several minutes, observing her glazed expression. She looked to him quizzically, and he shrugged. "Not really watching, hm?"

She stayed still for a moment, then shook her head. "Not really. But it's sufficient background noise."

"Hm." He sat back, thinking. "Maybe different distraction."

"If you think it would help," she mused, her voice rather dull. "Not in the mood for a game. I feel that requires too much thought right now."

"Mm." He tilted his head to the side. "Could pick another film. Could talk. Could - ah." He gave a nod. "Could tell story."

She opened her eyes, her face still tired, but raised one eyebrow in mild amusement. "You, tell a story?" she asked.

"Mm. Many stories. Some human, some not. Opinion?"

She raised a hand to her ear, fiddling with the translator there. "Would you say it in Covus or English?"

He inclined his head. "Whichever you prefer."

"English. Sounds more natural, you without a translator."

He smiled. "Preferred genre?"

Her eyes crinkled as she returned the smile. "Genre?"

"Adventure, action, romance, espionage."

"Don't tell me you've got something memorized for every one of those," she accused, but he merely inclined his head. "Surprise me."

He leaned back, clasping his hands. "Heard of Silent Step?"

"Hm. Sounds familiar, but no, I don't think so."

"Salarian hero. Defeated entire nation with single shot."

"Sounds like some sort of legend," she noted.

"Hero was real, but yes. Something like that." He nodded absently, staring at the ceiling, his lips quirking in a smile, then continued. "Started with information war."

"Is this going to be some thriller?" she asked mildly, but he shook his head.

"Brink of full-scale war. Two nations, at conflict. Unseen forces pushing them against one another."

"Trying to prod them into warfare?"

He nodded. "Espionage - teams, individuals - efforts flying back and forth. Information, misinformation."

"Sounds interesting." She settled into the bed further. "I'll bite. Tell me about it."

"Prose or poem?"

She perked up. "There's a poem?"

He chuckled. "Many different forms. Poem, then?"

"Yes, please."

Mordin sat back, interlacing his fingers, his brow furrowed, then began to speak.

"From time years ago to times anew

told of planets lost and knowledge entwined

with danger calling, the threads all spooled

in careful knots and woven true.

A hero born of plain virtue,

one to hold the light of truthful ways

and cast its ray upon the path

of peace and victory at last."

Dr. Chakwas listened to Mordin's slow but clear tone, then spoke as he took a pause between verses. "Mordin," she asked slowly, "are you translating this directly from Covus?"

He paused in his speech, almond eyes flicking to meet hers. "Yes," he said mildly.

"And you're making it sound so wonderful," she remarked softly. "You've got a knack for this."

He blinked, somewhat taken aback by her tone. "Thank you."

"I didn't mean to interrupt." She smiled. "Keep going?"

"Of course." Mordin returned his gaze to the ceiling and began to speak again.

"From time years ago to times anew

danger calls to our hero now

information sought and treasure found

with heroes sung and forgotten too.

"You're even making it rhyme a little," she said, delighted, her eyes gleaming, and he chuckled.

"Trying to. Won't be consistent."

"You're doing wonderfully," she told him. "Sorry. I won't keep interrupting."

"Don't mind." He inhaled, then continued.

"This tale recounted is one of skill,

of one whose impossible task was done

with quiet precision, with silent poise

to those who wait in shadows still…"

His words echoed around the otherwise-silent medbay, and slowly, as he spoke over a few minutes, he watched her shoulders relax, and his expression relaxed into a more natural smile. "Better distraction?" he said between verses about halfway through the poem, and she gave him a sleepy grin.

"Very much so," she said. "Very much so."

Mordin took another breath, and continued.