Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Black and White	By : CyberII Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 8146 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Mass Effect or characters, writing for fun, but not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Pt.1
- 2-Pt.2
- 3-Pt.3
- 4-Pt.4
- 5-Pt.5
- 6-Pt.6
- 7-Pt.7
- 8-Pt.8
- 9-Pt.9
- 10-Pt.10
- 11-Pt.11
- 12-Pt.12
- 13-Pt.13
- 2
- 3
- 4
His instinct told him to snap open his eyes at the sound of the door unlocking, but the blood loss weakened his body and slowed the reactions. His eyelids felt like lead, none of his limbs obeyed. When he finally managed to focus his eyes, he found himself staring into a pair of huge silvery-blue irises. Cold nimble fingers on his neck – a glove, metallic fingertips; he knew that glove and its owner.

He let out a light relieved sigh, baring his teeth in a weary smile and trying to chuckle.

"See… Told you I'll be fine… Now bring your… Ardat-Yakshi in… Death by sex is on top of my… death causes list right now…"

"Treatment first," a grumpy salarian voice came from the side his vision blackened out already. "Talk later."

"Hello, Doc," there was a dull sting of injection, although his mind barely registered it, "Nice to meet you too…"

Four hands started to remove his armor carefully; he tried to assist, with a little success though.

"Thoughtless, foolish behavior," Mordin sounded irritated, yet his concern didn't escape the turian ears. "Fight with Garm, sure way to die."

"I almost got him, Doc," the turian breathed out, "Caught him alone, I could finish him off, if not for his damned vorcha coming to help…"

"Looks more likely, he could finish you off," fast salarian voice chided him; skilled hands gently worked on cutting off the undersuit in places where the wounds didn't allow peeling it off. "These injuries will disable you for a week; Garm already forgot where you hit him."

"No, Mordin, I can't… Ouch!" the bones in his elbow cracked nastily, when Mordin put them in place, then scanned for fractures with his omni-tool.

"Heal first. Object later," the doctor's voice was stern. "Should stay here if not going to clinic."

Whichever anesthetics Solus used on him, their effect became hard to fight. Even the sharpest pain slowly faded away, limpness and drowsiness took its place. He tried to tell Mordin he can't stay here either, not for a week, not only because Samara won't approve it…

He yawned faintly, looked into her wide-open hypnotic eyes. His head felt so heavy and lolled forward, the light blue orbs with black rims still before his closed eyes…

Dr. Solus' work was impressive. His hands moving rapidly above the limp frame of his sleeping patient were patching him up with such skill and precision it looked more like an inspired musician's manipulations.

"Concussion round to the head, close range. Extreme luck, could've result much worse contusion. Needs rest, good sleep. With all respect, Justicar. You," Solus stared at Samara, "Could provide it? If not, must find a safe place. Your 'friend', important deeds, giving hope," the salarian sighed curtly. "Young. Hot-headed. Signed his own death-warrant."

"I can, professor," unexpected words escaped her mouth, "Actually, I've spent centuries serving the Code, life of a Justicar can be lonely. It would be… a welcomed change to have a company for a while."

"Good," the salarian doctor nodded, "Take good care of him, make sure he takes the medicine and changes the bandages. Will check him in a day or two, bring more supplies. Dextro rations?"

"It won't be a problem," the Justicar shook her head, "I'm clear of suspicion; none of the local gangs had a chance to see us together. I can get him whatever he needs to make a full recovery."

Mordin gave her a tight-lipped smile, narrowing his eyelids.

"Excellent choice of friend, not that foolish. Considering your arrival to Omega, acquaintance recent. Still trusted you to come here. Spontaneous choice, yet brilliant."

He glued the deepest puncture of a warren bite wound, wrapped a bandage under his patient's knee.

"Need to move him on a couch."

"The bed will be more comfortable for his height," Samara interjected. "I'm indifferent to luxury, I spend most of the resting time meditating either way."

She let biotic flame run through her fingers when she carefully lifted her unconscious guest from the floor stained with his blood. Mordin watched for his bandages to remain in places, supported his head when she lowered him slowly, covered the long frame with a blanket.

There was a deep concern in slightly narrowed salarian eyes, while he stood by the bedside. Finally he sighed lightly, tense shoulders rose and fell.

"Will live. Lucky."

He turned to the asari, straightened up, rubbed his gloves against his white coat absentmindedly, adding a new pattern of blue prints on it.

"Good, you contacted me. Will be honored to maintain our acquaintance. Will see you soon, both. If medical assistance ever needed – you know where to find me."

Dr. Solus picked up his medical stuff, wiping it clean with a piece of cloth, neatly arranging it in his case. His nimble fingers locked the case; he stood up, handed Samara a stock of bandages and some tubes.

"Dextro ointments. Pretty sure, he's familiar with them. Keep the room temperature slightly warmer; turian, hotter climate presets. Good physical condition, slightly malnourished though. Assumption: lived on military rations mostly since arrived on Omega."

The salarian nodded to himself, threw last glance on the bed with the wounded turian on it and hurried to the door.

The last stop he made before letting the door close behind his back was to address her once again.

"Won't ask about the Ardat-Yakshi case he mentioned. Just… Don't put his life on stake. Too dangerous."

Mordin Solus jerked his shoulders and disappeared in the dimly lighted hallway.

She tried to remember how it is – to stay with someone in the same apartment. Part of her wanted to leave him in his sleep, go anywhere, just to keep that solitude which became comfortable for her centuries ago.

The other part spoke with dangerous curiosity. There was no place for curiosity in the Justicar Code.

She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to his slow but steady breath. She remembered how quiet turians are in their sleep.

And how much of light sleepers they are, with their predatory genetics.

She wasn't afraid to wake him only because of his sedated sleep; she was pretty sure he won't react to her silent presence.

Her slender gloved hand traced his markings with a feather-light touch.

She delved into centuries of her memories. Back in time, when she was a young maiden, free, reckless, living for the moment – of fun, of spilled blood, of love.

Love which seemed eternal every time.

Hot, tropical planet – its name escaped her mind for this time. She didn't care for the names of the places she was happy back then. She was with him.

Different pattern of markings, but the same striking blue color. Light, platinum-colored plates; tall, graceful, with deep turquoise eyes…

She bent over him and couldn't resist but catch his exotic spicy scent, even mixed with the smell of his blood.

The memories…

All that's left for her.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Black and White