I didn't even hesitate. I think that's what scares me the most.
"Control room on top of Shroud Tower. Must take elevator up!"
"You're going up there?"
"Yes. Readings of lab suggest temperature malfunction. Could affect cure viability. Need to adjust settings manually."
"It's too dangerous Mordin. We need to get outta here!"
"Temperature variance could destroy cure," Mordin casts his gaze at the tower that looms over us both, "Time running out, have to go up!"
Why does he have to be so stubborn? My eyes flash with frustration; resting my hand on my pistol, I find it within me to reveal myself.
"You're not going up."
He doesn't turn around but I've known him for long enough to be able to visualise his expression. A calculating, cool glint in his eyes.
"Not concerned for my safety," he decides, "Concerned I might discover something. Sabotage? But whose?"
My hand lightly grips the hilt of my gun when he turns towards me.
"Why Shepard?" he asks. He doesn't sound angry. But his tone was not normal.
Disappointment.
"That desperate for salarian aid?" he asks, "Or that afraid of krogan?" He doesn't wait for me to explain. He just turns his back on me, and walks towards the open elevator. But I won't let him go, not when I can still save him.
"Every time we've talked about this before, you've always defended the genophage!" I pointed out, "Hell, you destroyed Maelon's data - how can you change your mind now?"
"I made a mistake!" his voice cuts through my body like glass and he whirls around to face me again. For a split second I see terrible anger wreck through his body as he glares at me, eyes cold but still defiant. Then his temper disappears and he drops his gaze, as if ashamed of his sudden outburst.
"I made a mistake," he repeats, "Focused on big picture; big picture made of little pictures - too many variables. Can't hide behind statistics - can't ignore new data," he looks at me again, almost... pleading.
"My responsibility - need to go, running out of time!"
The cold steel of my gun has never felt like so much of a burden before, "Mordin, walk away!" I command, as the salarian eyes up the barrel of my weapon before searching my face for... what, exactly? Does he think I'm going to back down just because he asks? Yet, he hasn't asked.
"I can't do that, Shepard," he proclaims, eyes unforgiving.
"You don't have a choice here," I tell him, "Walk away or I will fire."
"Not your decision. Not your work. Not your cure!" Mordin accuses, "Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong," he spits, uttering the words that a few hours ago we had spoken together while in the Normandy's med-bay. At first, I wonder if he might try to fight me. A part of me hopes that he will so that I can delay him from reaching the top of the tower, but he steps back, acknowledging the situation that we were now in.
"No time to argue. Cure disposal imminent. Must counteract sabotage. Stop me if you must." He turned his back on me for the last time.
I didn't hesitate.
BANG.
He grunts in pain as the bullet penetrates his armour and slams him against the elevator controls. The last thing I see is his broken body crumpled on the floor as it ascends.
I was a monster. The guilt had settled in quickly and it weighed me down, making me suffer. All I could see was his face, wracked in pain and smeared with green blood that was slowly drowning him, choking him. I hadn't seen him die, but I had heard him. Heard through his comm, the wet splutters that forced their way out of his body.
I heard him drag his half limp body across the tiled floor, "Not... yet..." he chanted, and I could hear the agony in his voice as every centimeter he moved, he painted the floor with warm blood and tried desperately not to collapse into a wrenching spasm.
"No!" he cried, gagging on the smoke and flames that corrupted the air, "Not... ready..."
For a few seconds, things went silent and my stomach grew heavy as I listened to the ominous call of the Shroud VI.
Warning! Temperature malfunction detected!
Then there was a sharp intake of breath as someone tried to reach out to something. Mordin was at the console.
Please don't let this be for nothing, I stopped breathing, focused on the other end of the comm. At first, I heard nothing again and I wondered if I had perhaps imagined it. Maybe Mordin had already collapsed and had found peace.
THUD. His body hit the ground. I listened for the VI.
Please don't let this be for nothing, please don't let this be for nothing, please don't let this be fo-
Warning! Temperature malfunction detected!
Warning! Disposal commencing!
I exhaled and let my eyes drift upwards, feeling triumphant up until my conscience catches up with me. The tsunami of guilt sweeps me under and drains everything from me. Looking at the Shroud, I felt nothing.
I am nothing.
I condemned one of my comrades - one of my closest friends - to suffer at my hands. I knew how Mordin thought. I knew what that cure meant to him and to Wrex but I pulled the trigger anyway. He crawled across that floor with the intent of doing one last act of kindness and he failed. He died knowing that he had failed.
I hope it was worth it.
AN: I'm so bloody guilt-ridden right now. I hate myself for shooting Mordin. I have no soul. It was just my first complete Renegade Shepard playthrough and I took it too far. I betrayed Mordin.
I'm sorry Mordin.
Oh and the dialogue in italics is from the actual scene with Mordin so all rights go to BioWare and it's writers.