Mordin's hands are good at many things.

Under the gloves, they're full of scars, each one a history, but he's taken great care to make sure they still function. A doctor without the use of his hands is nothing at all.

Few doctors' hands have done the things his hands have done.

There's the small matter of the genophage, both its modifications and its eradication. He is very proud of his hands' part in that.

They have cradled hearts and lungs, and bundles of frail dying nerves. They've peeled the muscles from bone and touched places inside his patients that not even lovers had seen. Mordin's hands are good at keeping a body's secrets.

On Omega, his hands cured a plague, and twisted with worry when Daniel went silent.

Mordin's hands are often the best indicators of what their owner is thinking. But they rarely stop moving, so no one's learned to read the messages in their movements.

Even in sleep, his hands are restless. His body still requires a few hours of rest — though if he could, he'd break it of the habit entirely. His hands don't need to sleep. They rove and pluck at the air while his body restores itself.

Like most salarians' hands, they are deceptively fragile. Very few people would look at Mordin's hands and think Here's a threat, I should watch myself. No, they look at his hands and think Oh, a doctor? Easy mark.

Their first mistake is always thinking that his hands won't know what to do with a trigger. Their second, and usually last, is that his hands won't follow through with the threats of his mouth.

His hands like holding a gun, just like his brain appreciates the look of surprise when they realize just how badly they've misjudged him.

Thought I was harmless, did you?

Mordin's favorite things about his hands are the things they will never do. They will never be full of seashells that smell like the rich rot of the sea. They will not lift a baby krogan to the Tuchankan sun (A little underweight. To be expected. But, will be strong, someday). They will never hand the Major the proposed plans for an improved implant (Had some free time. Thought you might like to have a look). They will not clench as Dr. T'Soni stumbles her way through a eulogy that, in the end, is not needed at all.

His hands will shield his eyes from the fires, and they will enter one last line of code.

Then, finally, not content but not unsatisfied, his hands will rest.

Someone else's hands might have gotten it wrong.