Had to be me

- August, 2185

"Humans show the most genetic variety." Mordin explained, in his usual off-handed manner. His manner of speech often irritated many, but Messalina understood Mordin more than anyone. He was very much like her in the way he placed others at arms length. The subject at hand was not personal, and being personal was not the issue. From the corner of her eye she could see Miranda becoming uncomfortable at his line of reasoning, and being human Messalina felt somehow responsible to transfer Miranda's discomfort to Mordin.

"So, you're saying human genetic diversity allows for an excellent test bed than most other species, in a scientific point of view?" Messalina cautiously eyeballed Miranda while facing Mordin.

"Can extrapolate a general Asari, Turian or Salarian response to certain physiologic stimuli to a certain statistical certainy contained in a practical extent. Not so with human. More diverse, more varied. Excellent basis to experiment on for uncertain outcomes."

Miranda's squint now became nearly vicious.

"Seems reasonable." Messalina nodded.

"Using humans for tests is wrong!" Miranda nearly shouted.

"Not debating morality of experiments." Mordin stated in a matter of fact manner.

"I don't condone experiments on sentient species, Miranda," Messalina explained, slowly, "We're just trying to figure out why-"

"You're the hero of humanity, Shepard."

- October, 2186

Then what am I doing here?

Messalina stood before the ancient structure, that resisted so vehemently against her common sense of mind. The tower spiraled to unfathomable heights, solid and advanced, yet ancient all the same. Mordin busily packed his equipment. Standard hacking tools, serum from the Krogan brood mother, and other carefully packaged materials to transfer and process the airborne phage for contingencies unforseen.

Why am I doing this?

She stood rooted on the spot as she watched Mordin finish checking his equipment before making his way to the elevator.

"Mordin," she barely managed to speak.

"Had to be me." Mordin shrugged, as he turned to face Messalina beyond the now closing transparent doors.

Messalina placed a hand on the barrier, trying to touch her friend.

Here I stand on the barren world of Tuchanka, the home of the Krogan that Wrex vehemently demanded saving in hostage for the Turian cause. And for that she had tripped over the Salarians on her way over. Here stands a Salarian, burdened by his guilt that their common experience together had flowered, walking off nonchalantly towards his death. The irony of the situation rained torrents upon her, rendering her speechless.

Mordin's eyes, large and reptilian, danced away at her, poking her in amusement at her predicament. Perhaps besides Liara, Mordin understood Messalina the most. No matter how hard she strove to overcome, she brought ruin and guilt in her wake. And every moment of the galaxy held balance in her mind upon the small mitigating circumstances crystallized by a myriad of acquaintances she could personalize the issues with. Wrex, Mordin, Eve, Grunt, Garrus, Okeer, Saren, Rana Thanoptis, Maelon, Wreav, they all dwindled down to this moment in time where Mordin's trajectory toward death was inevitable.

"Someone else might have gotten it wrong." Mordin smiled.

She could almost hear the connotations of his words plummet down on her.

Liara stirred her mug in silent reservation with her pen as she watched Messalina at the edge of her bed. She had chased Glyph out of her office and bolted the door, but Messalina still failed to budge. Messalina needed time processing Mordin's death. She knew Messalina barely survived Wrex's jubilation at the cure of the genophage. Messalina, the savior of the Krogan race could hardly bear the ordeal of faceless Krogans pumping her hand as she trudged toward the shuttle that returned her home.

"Home," Liara ventured at the end of her thought. Messalina stirred. "Your home is here, isn't it?"

Messalina stared at her lover in confusion.

"It's where you were born." Liara settled down her mug and walked across the multiple displays that angled towards her movement. "It's where you died. And it's where you've been born again."

Liara walked over to Messalina, placing a palm on her cheeks.

"To call you human is circumstantial. Gravity encumbers you more than you know. It would be an exaggeration to say that your mother gave you birth."

"Liara," Messalina groaned automatically at the word 'mother'. Liara quickly placed a finger on Messalina's mouth.

"You carry the weight of all sentients on your shoulder." Liara proceeded, "and you expect to understand the weight through sentient experiences. That is your irony, Shepard."

"How else?" Messalina defiantly snapped.

Liara smiled, cautiously taking a step back. "Is there a solution?"

"If you're saying that what the Illusive man is trying to do, controlling the Reapers, is in any way justifiable-"

Liara shook her head. "It's not, Shepard. Thinking that there must be a logical solution to an illogical puzzle is what plagues you."

"Then what?" Messalina deflated.

"We strive." Liara shrugged. "We do what we can, what we must, when we can, to what all life eventually tries to do within their finite life. Civilization is a process, Shepard. It rises to meet the challenges of sentient beings trying to bridle the universe. Is that an imperative? Is that natural? Is that moral? They strive on without answering these questions. But you, my love, are placed in a unique position, through your endeavors, to make judgement before all that has come to pass and all that hangs in balance. You fumble, frustrated, because the tools at your disposal seem rudimentary and callous, sometimes too weak, sometimes too brittle. But like any civilization that has passed on into memory, the choice is never an imperative. It is merely Us, ever striving to survive for another day."

"What am I doing, Liara?" Messalina sighed.

"Sometimes, Shepard," Liara walked back to her desk, "what you are doing is enough. Accepting that there are things that we cannot do may be difficult, but you must allow for that."

Messalina finally found courage to enter the entertainment lounge.

Ashley Williams was staring out the window toward the vastness of space, holding herself tightly. Messalina was certian that her reflection on entering had caught the Lieutenant Commander's eyes, but the air between them was as frigid as ever, and Ashley refused to notice her discomfort.

"Heard the mission went well, Shepard."

Messalina nodded as she joined Ashley in staring at nothing.

"Buried another friend."

Ashley shrugged, indifferent. "You'd think you'd become used to that by now."

"It's never easy." Messalina found herself trying to explain again.

"Funny how life rolls you," Williams continued. "Remember we were trying to stop Saren from curing the genophage back on Virmire. I wonder what the LT would say now. I wonder..." But Ashley caught herself from saying any further.