Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jessica Parker Kennedy as Margaret Shepard | Kathryn Drysdale as Hannah Shepard         

Before the Blitz, Margaret Shepard was just...her. Margaret. A marine who happened to be a Shepard. Who followed in her mother’s footsteps, in her father’s footsteps, who had bravely fought in combat and not lived to see her be born. 

But she was a Shepard. Her mother was a Shepard. Her grandfather was a Shepard, and a damn legendary one at that. 

But Margaret supposed she was the first to be something new. She was the first one to be born in space, aboard Arcturus. She was an only child until she was twelve. Then, her mother married Emmanuel Mora. Then she had a brother; his only son, Eliseo, who was fifteen. Manny was her dad, in every sense of the definition, Ellie was her brother. The lack of blood relation didn’t null how much they mean to her.

She was a good marine, doing well in her marks. Terrible in driving. Better at combat and shock trooper training, though any semblance of her personality disappears in the battlefield. She was the unassuming daughter of a living legend. The nicest of the family. The youngest. She was the stepdaughter of her civilian-turned C-Sec clerk father. Stepsister to Eliseo. 

And the truth was she never wanted to truly enlist. 

She hated war. Hated combat. Hated violence. Hated inflicting harm upon others. She was not one for war, nor for the glory of battle. But she knew the importance of her lineage.

But if she chose not to be a marine...she would never hear the end of it. 

She remembered the conversation about enlisting at eighteen, how natural it came up. Wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the dozens of N7 graduates in Arcturus, with her mother presenting the honors at each ceremony. It wasn’t like she knew the lines by heart of the honor, the discipline, the justice and the dedication it took to be a marine. Or the few harmless jabs thrown at other non-Alliance divisions in jest.

The jokes were old and cheesy at best, yet they always garnered a few chuckles. But it showed a sentiment that she had seen and known; the Alliance was in her blood. The military was her family’s dynasty. She was a Shepard.

And she was an unremarkable daughter.

At the end of the day, she was just a Shepard. She wasn’t special. 

The words never came from her mom. Absolutely not. She knew and loved her mom too much for that to be real. 

She knew the comments about her behavior. She had to work up the nerve to talk to new people at mixers and parties. She bit her tongue at the rants of superiors - but was the first one to roll her eyes once they turned away. There was a sense of good in others that she saw, that always held onto the hope that every person she would encounter had good intentions. It was not that she was naïve, or that she was too trusting.

Maybe it was the sense of honor. Maybe it was her expectations, that being in the Alliance was the right thing. 

But so far, it has proven otherwise.

She had peeked at her instructor’s physical notes during the one-on-one progress briefings after the N4 training ended, when Major Lima had stepped away for a few minutes to get another charger for the data pad. Comments on Shepard’s grades, her knack for hitting targets, proficiency with sniping and with close quarter combat, (the tolerable driving). Then came the bottom of the sheet: Smart student. Good fighter, excellent response to the L3 implant. Not suggested to ever have a dedicated driving postition; good if needed, but not recommended. Communicative skills are decent, but not exceptional. Needs more social skills.

Ok, so she could be better. But she had accuracy, an eye for a target like nothing else. She was talented. She could shoot accurately, disarm opponents even faster. Vanguard training was no walk in the park, and she was damn good at it. She could talk the talk, take on opponents. But...she wasn’t much like that outside of it. She was her. Maggie. Who didn’t complain if her order was delivered incorrectly, who was chatty enough to pass for decent socialization skills. Who couldn’t dance, but could still enjoy a party. A drink or two. Or seven, if it was any telling of Quincy’s twenty first birthday last shore leave. She liked science, loved star gazing. She liked collecting tiny ships, of all things. And she had friends. Good friends. Friends that respected her boundaries and did not drag her into parties.

She was more than just the grades.

She knew she was a little different from others, ducking away from the politics of space, figuring out her own code and her own set of values. Respect all, earn respect. 

Maybe it was because she spent so much time in the Citadel, or just of the same values she was taught by her mom.

Elysium was a pretty place. The English namesake for Eliseo, of all things. She had sent him pictures, so many pictures, of the Elysium signs, pointing to him like the place was named after him. Sent some to her dad, to her mom. A few to Rio, who was on Mars working on a new rover, and had complained that Quincy had sent them to her already, and had also said If Quincy drinks and dances again, you have my blessing to carry my girlfriend out of the facility and back to Mars. Because my god, she cannot dance.

One drink in, Quincy had laughed at her and said, 'As if! Everyone is a bad dancer when they're drunk. And you, Miss Margaret Shepard, are the worst dancer when sober too!' 

She sent a few to Jeff, who was somewhere in general space. ‘Where the hell was the academy anyway?’, she had asked him once. ‘Somewhere in space,’ he had answered. ‘Well, that answers nothing, but you’re also not wrong.’

He would not respond right away, but still saw them anyway. It was okay. It wasn’t like she didn’t disappear when she got incredibly busy. 

She felt a little out of place with the weight of the fatigues gone. But even then, she carried her pistol in a holster under her dress. Just like she was told to do by her mother. The inn had the rest of her armor and her uniform.

This was shore leave. Quincy had been more particularly excited for shore leave falling in the “summer.” A Terran summer, like on Earth. Margaret had only experienced it through artificial exposure in Arcturus, and the never ending purple skylight of the Citadel. But she had visited Earth once or twice, felt a little more out of place there than she ever would in space. 

But the heat was nice and the weather was nicer. The music was great. The peace was even better. Is this what it’s like to not be a marine?, Margaret had thought then, is this what it would be like if I never signed up? The stargazing quality would be perfect tonight. 

For once, she felt like a normal 22 year old  just enjoying a weekend off. 

Then the alarms began to blare.

And everything went to hell.

The pirates she gunned down were once beings, before all this. But the choice was made when they fired at civilians and intended to slaughter and enslave.

The waves kept coming. It had been a blur of running, of fighting, of clearing the path on her own with just her training. She had already motioned for the evacuation of evacuated civilians on the frontlines, to move them as fast as possible away from the breached defenses. Her classmates aided the workers as safety, as precaution and protection. Go, keep going, stay away from windows and barricade the doors. Disable automatic openings. Keep the children hidden.

It gave her an opening, to reach for her pistol and shoot the slaver off. She must have been a sight to see, she imagined, to the colonists and civilians; blood down her chin, down throat, all over her dress, a dead man’s visor barely fitting onto her head. Loud, scared, angry, in pain, and yet commanding the battle, rallying the defenses and leading the charge with the ground forces.

She supposed, though, with no reinforcements in sight, they did not have much of a choice.

In between moving to cover, all she could hear was gunfire and off-rhythm sirens, with the seaside evening sky hazy with smoke. They were losing light by the minute and faith by the second. She could hear the fleet somewhere that wasn’t there.

'Shepard, external comms are blocked,' Quincy had said into the visor as Margaret reached new cover, 'do we still keep trying? '

'Yes. Keep going', Margaret had reloaded the borrowed sniper rifle, 'keep trying until anyone from the SSV breaks through.'

'Aye, aye.'

She cleared the path for herself, with a strong biotic wave shoving the slavers off her path. 

She finally reached the high ground and mounted the sniper from the position and looked into her scope. Exhaled. One, three, five, seven, nine. She found one batarian sniper setting his sights on her. She pulled the trigger. He went down. Two, four, six. She scouted ahead to the top of the mountains. Another sniper. She shot him and missed, only knocking down his weapon. But it was enough for him to be shaken up. 

She shot him again. One to the head.

She let the gun cool down and dried her sweat on her dress before focusing on the scope again. This was what gloves were for, to absorb the moisture and keep going. But she wasn’t wearing armor. Nothing close to armor. Just her one sided visor and a dead man’s gun. Her omnitool radar was jammed, she was pinned down. Her N3 training had gotten her this far. She had to keep going. 

The fighting got worse. Sometimes her headshots missed. Sometimes, the ones headed towards her rang past her ears. And she had to duck further. She crawled on the ground and looked for better cover. Damn these sandals. She should have worn boots. 

The Skyllian Blitz was the official name for it, the one on the paperwork and on the headlines. It was the name everyone attributed with her heroism. 

The promotion came a few months before the Star of Terra award ceremony. Lieutenant Commander Margaret Shepard. Commander Shepard. Now, she could lead her own vessel if she was assigned to. Lieutenant Commander at almost 23 wasn’t bad. To some, it would be a good start for a career.

What if I resigned? What if I become an explorer and leave the military behind? What if I chart the galaxy? I want to do that. I would like to do that.

At 05:47, the morning of her ceremony, she had cried. Cried and cried and cried. It should have been a joy to cry. It should have felt like joy. Relief. Of gratitude that she was alive. 

But none of it was. 

Instead, she had cried tears of stress, of feeling inadequacy. She had proved herself in the Blitz - proved herself to be what? Another symbol to be exploited against non-humans? What did she prove herself to be? A Shepard? Living up to her own family’s name. 

She hadn’t slept much the night before, or the one before that either. Too much energy, maybe. Too much stress. She skipped drinking; she couldn’t show up hungover to the ceremony. She couldn’t sleep in; she had to get her hair done. Had to get herself together and not do stims. The bottle was there in the bottom of her suitcase, disguised as an over the counter painkiller with her name on it. Take as needed, the psychiatrist had said. 

Yet every nightmare wasn’t the same. Sometimes, she didn't dream. 

She didn’t dream memories of the Blitz. Just the feeling. The fear. The brutal thoughts when awake, when the image of the dead civilians, the broken glass, the bullets and sounds. The nightmare continued after waking, with the thoughts. The flashbacks. The shakiness in her hand that she couldn’t control. Even to thoughts that weren’t related to the Blitz. Tap, tap, tap. Don’t think about that. Think about this instead. 

The eval had grounded her for two months until she felt better, but it was more of a footnote to the injuries and “well deserved rest” that she needed. 

She did technically get injured in the Blitz, other than the sprains and bullet grazings; she got pinned down by a batarian mercenary who had a knife and slashed at her. The cut got her arm and her lips, from where she tried to shield herself. 

Because the truth was, she did have an official diagnosis. Names for what she went through and for what she has always had.  It was acknowledged but not elaborated. She would not think about it. PTSD was a given, due to the Blitz. But the obsessive-compulsive disorder...no, it couldn’t be. 

But the fact was buried enough, buried so deep that it could not be seen again.

So she buried the pill bottle even deeper into her suitcase and went to brush her teeth and shower. Even at dawn, the sunlight was bright on Earth, the sun a smaller dot than any of the planets she had explored, yet still bright nonetheless. 

She could have stopped and rested on her laurels. The Star of Terra was the most precious, most venerated award that Earth could offer. It was precious, rarely given out, rarely seen. As was the assembly of the crowd; who knew if anyone there would ever be sitting in the same seat again?

“The one thing that all humans can agree on is that the Star of Terra is the best symbol to represent the best that us humans can offer,” were the words that Admiral Hackett had said at the award ceremony, “Thanks to her heroism and leadership during the Skyllian Blitz, more than eight million colonists in Elysium live to see another day. The Alliance is honored to award the Star of Terra to Lieutenant Commander Margaret Shepard.”

It was the first public time she had been addressed by her new rank like this, at an official capacity that wasn’t in meetings and in handshakes. Her mother had hugged her the hardest on stage, the longest and the warmest. She had seen her mother after reinforcements dropped by, once the defenses were secured. She had cried then. Hugged her hard. Was worried sick. Then had looked at her bloodstained dress and immediately commanded someone to get her some clean clothes and a shower.

Captain Hannah Shepard hugging her daughter, Commander Margaret Shepard. 

Then suddenly, she was a hero. Margaret became Shepard. She became the hero of the Blitz, for simply doing the right thing. Then came the promotions, the social events, the same questions being asked over and over again about how she did it, how she mustered the bravery to fight off such a scourge of slavers. Then came the press corps, the idolization of a new public figure. 

She was never good at the talking part to the press. She could handle speaking to journalists in private, and held them in high regard. Could say hi to them at social functions. But to have a camera in her face...no. She was recognized on the streets now, after the Blitz. After the Star of Terra ceremony, especially. 

Thank you for your service, thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for your bravery. 

She got an email from an Elysium bar owner, Paulina. There was the printed out photo of Margaret’s Alliance portrait where she was smiling, when she knew the context was that she didn’t sleep that day and was running on fumes. 

Yet even when she was at her calmest, there came the tiny, silent thought. What if...what if… Even though it didn’t happen, it was always the thought and the possibility that it could happen again. Repetitive, destructive, intrusive. Terrifying. Comrades died at her side. Classmates and friends. Civilians. People. 

She wore her newly updated uniform with the respective pins and the Star of Terra medal on the fabric. 

And only six words, in all caps; ONLY COMMANDER MARGARET SHEPARD DRINKS FREE. 

The sign was reprinted in multiple businesses. She had free drinks in any bar she stepped into in Elysium, simply because she was who she was. She was Margaret Shepard. The Hero, Our Hero. Thank you for your service. 

The unremarkable daughter became the most recognized one.

Chapter Text

Joker was going through the motions, like he did every time the Normandy hit the relay. He was so accustomed to it, it was almost like tying a shoelace. 

Granted, hitting a target the size of a pinhead was nothing like a shoelace.

“Drift is just under fifteen hundred K. And… we’re set,” he said. 

“Fifteen hundred is good. Your Captain will be pleased. It’s a good ship you run, Flight Lieutenant.” The compliment did not feel genuine, especially from Nihlus. Almost backhanded, like if it were a mediocre feat.

Joker side eyed him, knowing that Nihlus wouldn’t see him from where he was standing.

Before he could respond, he saw the Turian turn on his heel and walk the opposite direction.

Uh. 

Okay.

“I hate that guy,” Joker said out loud. He didn’t care if Nihlus heard him or if comms were open. The Spectre would deserve to know.

“Nihlus gave you a compliment, so, you hate him?” Kaidan asked.

“He’s stuck up, full of arrogance and thinks he has the right to call the shots on something he doesn’t know about.”

“Did you just describe yourself?”

Aside the Commander, Kaidan was his friend. And sometimes, he oh so happened to hate him a little.

Like now.

“Oh. Haha. Hahaha. Reaaaal funny. But my point still stands; I don’t like him. I would not like him in a house. I would not like him with a mouse. Who is he to be telling me how good my ship is?” Joker grumbled. “I’ve been knowing how damn good the Normandy is. Alternate pilot who? I don’t know them. Because I’m always flying and present to keep an eye on things.”

Joker didn’t earn his spot on the Normandy by stealing it for a flight run for nothing. 

“Her name is Rosemund. You went to flight school with her.”

“Yeah, it was a hypothetical.”

“We all know you clock in overtime when you should be asleep,” Kaidan said. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I noticed the blanket you keep under the panel.”

Joker waved him away and kicked the fleece blanket under his seat further in. “My sleeping habits are besides the point. I don’t have a good feeling about this ‘shake-down’ run,” he did air quotes around the words. “Any other ship could have done it. But why us? Why Eden Prime?”

“Easy. The Captain gave us orders, so we have to follow them,” Kaidan said simply. “It’s that simple.”

Before Joker could roll his eyes, h e heard footsteps approach the cockpit and the small creak of the upper leather headrest as weight was leaned on it. 

"Good morning," Shepard greeted. She stifled a yawn. "Hey, Jeff."

He didn’t have to look to his left to know she taking her usual position on his right. Her hand went to his shoulder. 

It was a frequent thing. A little form of greeting from her. No one else did it but her.

Kaidan was looking at his panel. 

So Joker quickly retreated his hand from the keyboard and reached up to squeeze Shepard's hand.

"Hey," he said just as softly. He pushed down the thought that he wanted to hold her hand and kiss her knuckles. 

Joker let go and went back to work.

“Hey Commander,” Kaidan greeted, unaware of what just happened to his left.

“Hello Lieutenant. So, what’s going on?” 

“There's a Spectre on board,” Joker said, the title leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“A Spectre?” Shepard frowned. “Like, Council-based Spectre?”

“Yes ma’am. It’s what has Joker so paranoid,” Kaidan turned to face her. “He’s been rambling about it for the past ten minutes.”

“Okay, first, that’s an exaggeration; it hasn’t been ten minutes, it’s maybe been four. And second, I dare you to keep calling me paranoid, Alenko. All of us know that Spectres mean nothing but trouble,” Joker continued as he fidgeted with some levers on the orange screens. “Besides, I'm always on edge when there's anyone of very high rank on an unassuming vessel.” 

“Unassuming vessel being the fastest and most technologically advanced ship in the galaxy?” Shepard asked.

Joker remained quiet for a few seconds, before he recovered and said, “You know what I mean.”

“Why would you be paranoid? This is a Council funded project. They have every right to send one of their own to check on their investment,” Kaidan said.

“The Lieutenant does have a point,” Shepard said. “Think about it, Joker.”

“That’s the official story, but only people who think gullible is written on the ceiling believe the official story.”

Joker stood by a lot of things. A bullshit mission objective wasn’t one of them. And he knew the Commander wouldn’t throw him off board for mouthing off. She was used to his bullshit.

“I believe what I believe,” Joker continued. “We don’t go anywhere unless we’re sent somewhere. And we never go somewhere. Isn’t it a bit weird?”

“You always expect the worst,” Kaidan said. 

“Yeah, well, bad feelings come with the job. Like I said, we don’t go anywhere unless there’s a damn good reason. And none of us, including you, Commander, know that reason. So, why are we going to Eden Prime?”

“That’s...a good question,” Shepard said. “A question I’m not awake enough to answer.”

“Last I checked, Jenkins didn’t finish up the coffee so you might have a chance to get a pick-me-up,” Joker said. "Another pick-me-up."

Before Shepard could respond, the communicative radio flared up with an in-ship transmission from Anderson.

“Joker! Status report,” Anderson’s voice cut in crisply.

Joker subconsciously sat up straight and before he pressed the on-screen button to respond. “Just cleared the mass relay, Captain. Stealth systems engaged. Everything looks to be one hundred percent solid.”

“Good. Find a comm buoy and link us into the network. I want all mission reports to be relayed back to Alliance brass before we reach Eden Prime.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. Oh, also sir, you better brace yourself; Nihlus is heading your way.”

A few seconds of silence before Captain Anderson responded with a flat “He’s already here.”

Joker grimaced.

“Anyways, tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing. I figured she’d be in the cockpit.”

Although Shepard had only been on the Normandy for a week, the fact that she spent most of her free-time in the cockpit was well known. She hadn’t had a mission just yet, with the Alliance giving her a few days to get familiar with the ship and the crew. It was almost merciful, but he guessed that bliss period is over and now they were getting to the real nit grit of missions.

But he knew Margaret was like this. She wasn’t the most social person to mingle off the bat. It took her time to get used to this. All this. She was always an introvert, even though she was quick to fight. She was always an introvert, though she laughed brightly around the right company and had the most foul mouthed streak than he ever heard. 

But ever since the Blitz, she was a little more quieter. A little more serious. 

But ever since he saw the same smile, with the crooked teeth after he said a dumb joke, he knew it was still her. 

“You figured right,” Joker said. He glanced upwards to face Shepard. “You got that?”

Shepard nodded. “I’m on my way,” she said. Though it was too stiff for his liking. Too tense.

As Shepard left the cockpit, Joker turned to ask Kaidan, “Is it just me or does the captain always sound a little pissed off?”

To which Kaidan laughed and said, “Only when he’s talking to you, Joker.”

As predicted, the mission wasn’t a simple shakedown run.

The day after the mission had started on a grim note, with word of Jenkins’s memorial service happening on the Citadel once they docked, since Eden Prime was compromised and no longer in commission for the time being.

Joker knew Jenkins. It was a small ship, everyone knew everyone. Granted, he wasn’t as close with him as Kaidan was.

The zombie looking creatures only incremented with each dead civilian being added to the pile of casualties. It took awhile for the report to be written up, due to Shepard being unconscious for fifteen, almost sixteen hours.

Kaidan had retreated for his lunch break in the mess leaving Joker alone in the cockpit. 

“Day one of being on the field and you're getting shot at,” Joker said instead of hello. Internally, he was relieved that she was able to stand and walk, but he wasn’t much to voice that kind of sentiment.

Banter was easy.

Sentimentality was not. 

Especially when she could have died in any one of those moments in those fifty minutes the mission took.

It was the first mission aboard the Normandy that had casualties.

He checked on her while she was unconscious before he retreated to his bunk, after he asked Dr. Chakwas a few questions about Shepard’s condition. Following the interrogation that Chakwas had for him on his health status.

Truth was that he had been overjoyed when he found out that Commander Shepard, his Shepard that he had grown up with since they were both children on Arcturus Station, was back in his life rather than just a delayed email response away. 

But he had to be professional around the Captain. Around Kaidan too, to a very far degree. 

But around Margaret?

He let those barriers drop.

“All part of the job,” Shepard said with a wince as she rubbed her temple.

“How's your head?” Joker asked. 

“I still feel like the morning after shore leave,” Shepard said as she leaned to the left ledge next to the console. 

“ Yikes . Say no more,” Joker said. “I recommend that next time, you just stay away from mysterious Prothean beacons. It'll prevent you from having that problem.”

“No shit. Thank you for your undying support,” Shepard said sarcastically. “It’s so very much appreciated during this trying time.”

“You know me. I change lives with every word I say. I should be a motivational speaker after I retire.”

“I worry for your audience,” Shepard held a bandaged hand to her heart. 

“Wait, what happened to your hand?” Joker asked. He held his hand for her to hold.

She reached out and let him.

A slightly bloodstained bandage was wrapped around her knuckles. She lacked any scratches or signs that she had gotten physical with one of the zombie creatures. 

He could not ignore the nervous fingernail scratches on her dry skin either.

Joker reached out to closely inspect the bandages on her hand. He noticed that the material was thick gauze rather than the usual thin linen used for cuts. Cut must have been bigger than what Shepard said.

“Oh, that. Omni-gel couldn’t break the lock with some trapped civilians, so I did.”

It took Joker a few moments for the realisation that Shepard punched through a lock panel sink in.

“Jesus Christ , Margaret,” he said incredulously, but wasn’t as shocked as he sounded.

“What?” Shepard asked innocently. “It didn’t hurt much. The glass just cut through my glove a little, that’s all.”

You mean industrial military grade armor.

“You punched through a locked door panel,” Joker responded as he let go of her hand. “You might as well bunk in the infirmary if fighting is your plan of action every time.” 

“Already did. For fifteen hours...”

She was always the hard-hitter back on Arcturus station. Always punch first, ask questions later. The faded scar on her left eyebrow was from a rather brutal playground fight that Joker had been witness to when they were both children. He couldn’t ignore that.

He also could not ignore the scars from the Blitz...

“You should still be careful,” Joker said.

“It was the least of my problems,” Shepard shrugged. “When you have space zombies running around and electrocuting everything, a small scratch is nothing. We’ve been calling the creatures husks in the mission report. I’m sure the Council is going to get a laugh out of that.”

“You’re gonna get an audience with the Council?” Joker asked.

“We’re going to try. It doesn’t look good that their payload was destroyed and that one of their off-duty Spectres showed up to kill an on-duty Spectre on our mission while under our command.”

Oh, right. That happened.

“Kid didn’t stand a chance. Those Geth drones ripped right through his shields,” her tone became serious. “It's not a good feeling to lose someone under your command.”

“Jenkins is not your fault, Margaret,” Joker said. “Neither is Nihlus.”

“I know. It's just not a good feeling, that's all. It's not the first time I’ve lost a soldier, but I always hope it's the last...” 

“Margaret, just what happened down there?” His voice was hushed.

“Absolutely everything went wrong, Jeff. We lost two good guys and re-discovered a new enemy. We walked into an ambush,” Shepard crossed her arms. “Thanks to that, two of our own are dead and so are countless of civilians. Eden Prime is compromised. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Dead bodies coming to life, Geth showing up with guns. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. A shitty one. And---”

“Breathe,” Joker reminded. 

Shepard did. Kind of. She was gripping his hand tight. Too tight. But after she exhaled, she let go.

“And...there's something else. At the Prothean beacon, I saw some kind of...vision.”

That hadn’t been inside the mission report.

“Like, you can see into the future kind of vision?” Joker asked.

“I don’t know. At least I don’t hope so. It could be nothing. You have so many fucked up hells in your head that they all start to take a mind of its own when you go to sleep,” Shepard said. “But this was---I don’t know what it was. It was disturbing, to say the least.”

“Are you going to tell the Council?” Joker asked.

“About my nightmare sequence? No way. They wouldn’t take us seriously. All of this shit happened in a human colony,” Shepard sighed. “Things don't look so good.” 

“But you’ll figure it out, right? You’re Shepard. You always figure it out. You’ve gotten out of stickier situations.”

“Let’s hope so,” Shepard sighed. “But to change the subject; on Anderson’s authority, set our next destination for the Citadel. Time to get this shitshow on the road.”

"You got it." Joker set the course.

"Thank you." Shepard squeezed his shoulder and left.

Only when he was sure that she was near the galaxy map, he launched for the course. And went to the mass relay.

He sighed heavily.

This galaxy is going to run her to the ground.

Chapter Text

Shepard couldn't sleep. 

Having spent her almost her entire life on spaceships, she should be used to it. She’s slept everywhere, on all surfaces, in all different situations. With someone at her side, the lover that she hooked up with for the night, the old flame she called back when she was around. But as of late, as of being reassigned to the Normandy, she was just alone.

She was alone in her bunk, surrounded by dozens of sleeping crewmates. Last time she had checked on the dimmed orange glow of the omni-tool, it was 03:24 AM.

She should have gone to sleep at 11, her usual bedtime. But ever since she woke up from her beacon-induced knock out, it had been rather difficult for her to get some sleep.

Yet there she was, stomach in knots, the single sheet tangled around her legs.

Sleepless.

She lost track of how many times she felt close to sleep then got startled awake. The damned beacon vision was still in her head. Too many things were stuck in her head. Eden Prime. The nightmare visions. Jenkins gunned down by the geth. The dead civilians that turned into husks by the horde. The mission was a failure with a body count was still stuck in her head, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

She had heard from Anderson that Jenkins would be promoted to the next rank, post-mortem. Honorary, really.

The other side of Shepard, the hardened, bitter and cynical side that came from years and years of being in service and the not-so-gentle upbringing under Hannah Shepard spoke that Jenkins’s death….

…was utter bullshit.

Completely preventable, completely avoidable had he not went for the kill and acted like a hero. He was reckless, stupid and a complete idiot that could have jeopardized the entire mission, as if the mission hadn’t been complicated enough. He didn’t deserve the promotion, nor did he even deserve the formal burial service in the Alliance cemet---

Stop it. Stop that. Don’t be a cynic. Don't be like that. Someone died.

Shepard took a deep breath and laid an arm across her strained eyelids.

The sympathetic side of her, the part that she considered her true side, was sad at the loss of another soldier. She had spoken with Jenkins’s family that had taken refuge in the Citadel.

Then came Nihlus.

Despite Joker’s comments about trusting no spectres, she truly wondered how her best friend would react when she told him that she was being considered as a candidate for the first human spectre. Surely, he would hate her.

Sleepless, she got out of bed three hours before her shift.

Might as well get ready for the funeral.

Time to dust off the old dress blues.

Shepard walked through the hallways of the Human Embassy building.

The Normandy was far from the only human-operated vessel in space. But it was the newest, the fastest and the most ambitious since the start of the Citadel.

The framed photograph of the pilot was her favorite, though.

There stood Joker, next to the Alliance Navy flag. He was smiling proudly. Professional, but with an underside of cockiness and earned pep in his step that was definitely due to the not-so-well-known fact that he got his position of being pilot of the Normandy by stealing it for a joyride.

Her stepfather was the officer that processed the “crime” (which it was) and waved it away with a warning for “bad parking.” (which it wasn’t). It gave her a laugh every time it was brought up. She supposed there were some perks with having the general of C-Sec as your best friend’s father.

Next to his photo was Karin Chakwas’s portrait, poised in her Alliance Navy Scientific division blues. She stood with the team of five nurses and back-up doctor should Dr. Chakwas not be available.

And finally, came Normandy's most recent addition: Commander Margaret Shepard.

For the picture, she was allowed to wear her black eye makeup and matching lipstick, her preferred makeup. It boosted her confidence, plus it made her look good. It was a good intimidation tactic when she was younger and working with fellow soldiers that didn’t know their place. Who took her for just another Shepard.

Of course, the Blitz changed everything. It was what led her to have the recognition and status she had today. It’s what led to her promotion, her change in reputation of just another Shepard in the military to Commander Shepard from the Alliance Navy.

She looked at the photograph, then to the now. How much everything had changed…in so little time that it had passed.

“Shepard, where is the rest of your crew?” Udina demanded.

“At a burial for a fallen soldier,” Shepard responded curtly. "A burial I was taken away for."

A burial for one of my men that you should have allowed me to attend rather than calling this bullshit meeting.

And that was no internalized cynicism. That was all Shepard.

“Burial that you should have allowed me to attend rather than calling me here,” Shepard crossed her arms. “But I’m here.”

“What, you think I wouldn’t want to be at the funeral? This is an outrage!” Udina exclaimed. “The Council would step in if the geth attacked a turian colony! The people must receive justice.”

“We all agree, sir. You, me and what’s left of Eden Prime,” Shepard said.

“Stow that attitude, Shepard.”

“I’ll do that when you get us a proper audience with the Council,” Shepard said.

“Good! So, it will be soon. We have a scheduled hearing today for the alleged treason committed by Saren. Your candidacy for the spectres is at risk now too.”

Shit.

There was that too.

“Why does it matter if I join the Spectres or not?” Shepard asked again.

“It’s not a matter if you join or not,” Udina said. “It’s the doubt that you will even be considered. It would be one large step for representation for humanity.”

“Oh, and would my whole willingness about the situation even be taken into mind? What if I don’t want to join the spectres?”

“You mean you would sacrifice a big step for humanity simply because you don’t want to?”

“You had a mission going on under my nose and you don’t even bother to inform me of what is going on, or what was the risk involved,” Shepard said. “How am I supposed to trust the Council if the Council won’t even trust me with a simple memo?”

“Save it,” Udina said.

The transmission began to connect.

“So, we send one of our best to the Normandy, and he winds up dead.”

“Again, Councilor, we didn’t see it coming,” Udina repeated.

“The Geth attack is a matter of some concern. But they haven’t been seen outside the veil in a very long time,” the Asari councillor said.

“Bring us answers and not corpses and maybe we’ll consider sending resources,” the Turian councilor said dryly.

It was a low blow, and Shepard felt it.

She didn’t hide the indignation on her face, nor the balled-up fist at her side. She was so tired: both from not sleeping and tired of the lack of fucks that the Council gave about humanity.

Once the transmission cut off, Shepard not so subtly gritted her teeth. “Fuck them!” she cursed aloud.

“Shepard,” Anderson warned, like a parent scolding their child for swearing in front of them.

“Sorry, Captain,” Shepard said dryly. “Slip of the tongue. It won’t happen again.”

Anderson let out a humorless laugh. “You know, that’s exactly what you said the last time we dealt with the Council and ended up in disagreement.”

“What can I say? It’s a bad habit,” Shepard plopped down on the leather couch. “So, when am I gonna see you up there, making decisions for the good of humanity?”

She always brought up the question in private between the two of them.

“Soon,” Anderson said. "But now, prepare for the Saren hearing."

"Roger, roger." Shepard pulled up her omni-tool and opened a radio transmission between her, Ashley and Kaidan. “Alenko, Williams, armor up in thirty,” she said into the transmission. “We’re going to the Saren hearing.”

“Copy that, commander,” Ashley responded right away, as expected. Kaidan followed.

“I’m going to the Normandy to change,” Shepard said to Anderson. "I need to look better than this if I'm gonna talk to the Council."

Before Jenkins' funeral, Joker only went to two funerals. The first one that was still too painful to think about, and the second one that always felt like yesterday, with a friend.

Ben.

Ben was a friend and a rival, but still a good friend. Though he teased him about being so serious, he was still on a first name basis with Joker. To the few drunken parties he had gone through during flight school, and the plenty more he heard about later, Benny-man was always present. Teammate on the simulation battles, a roommate top bunk above him in their first year within the dormitory. Rowdy but hard working. He wanted to be a pilot, like Joker. 

But like everyone, he had to do a job within the academy outside of just training.

At first, Joker worked in requisitions. It was nowhere to piloting, but he learned a little bit of everything before he got moved up to the library after his wrist surgery during the winter break. It was not as casual as the requisitions accountability office was, but then he found out how much he could catch up on with his studies while earning credit for it. Which proved to be even more vital when it came to the final written exams and he became a social hermit. The hidden curriculum of Citadel Space that he wasn't taught in a class room. Jenni worked security with Dani, Margot worked as a courier. Ricky and Emiliano, or Emil, were instructor assistants. Rosemund, of all people, was a tour guide. 

And then there was Ben, who had had the control room in the hangar, the best seat in the damn house. The view alone was amazing. But the job? The best one. Oh, what Joker would do to just be in charge of watching the ships come in, come out, come back, make sure no one but us steal them for a joyride all day, making sure everything was going good. Between classes and shifts, Joker often stopped by to hang out with him and Margot, who liked to stick around a little longer with deliveries to the hangar, keeping an eye out for snitches aka the Major, who never did like Joker or his friends.

Then one day, there was an accident.

He wasn't sure what it was - some form of a major malfunction, maybe. But it was bad enough for the power to go out and into generator mode. It was enough for it to start pouring water and the alarm to ring out. Everyone was to be evacuated, even him in the library with the emergency evac chair. The stale water from the sprinklers had drenched all of them. He remembered the librarian, Kala, apologizing to him about the water as she carefully and quickly got them both out. He just remembered holding on tighter to the seat of as they exited the facility.

Then he found his friends. They were all gossiping and theorizing about what had happened and where they were when the alarm rang out. Jenni and Dani were in class. Margot was in the mess hall preparing a social event. Ricky and Emiliano were re-trying a new simulation with Rosemund supervising. But the word spread fast, about a control room fire. There was the smell of smoke and the arrival of firefighters that came too little-way too late. 

Then he realized Ben was nowhere to be seen. 

Later on, word got out that there was a malfunction in the control room. An overheating issue with a cable that always had problems. It was crawling to the walls, until the flames just burst. With the emergency key, Ben reacted fast to override the water system to activate the sprinklers and shut down every power source connected to the same power box of the control room, just in case the fire broke out of the room into the rest of the facility. He sealed the doors and the windows, just so the fire could not spread to the ships a few dozen yards and potentially cause an explosion.

The most fireproof room in the academy got caught on fire and killed Ben. It had been on a normal weekday. A gut punch out of nowhere.

It had been almost nine hours after Jenkins' funeral when Joker got the message to meet Shepard outside the movie theater. Not for a movie, since they had to be back to the Normandy that same night, but to talk. He had been killing time anyway in his apartment; mostly by immediately sleeping in his bed he barely got to see. Shepard needed the sleep, that was for sure. She was only upright in the funeral because she drank more coffee after she took the twenty-six minute nap in the co-pilot's seat. During the service, he had squeezed her hand a few times, to keep her alert. To keep her from nodding off.

There was a heavy feeling in the air again, the kind of air that somehow only comes around during funerals. The air of loss. Death. The feeling that moved in, then moved on at different speeds, different moments, different hours. 

But loss was loss. Ben was gone. Jenkins was gone. 

Joker got off the skycar by the plaza and surely enough, found Shepard. 

Her helmet was removed and sat on the floor next to her boots. She was in her matte black-khaki camo armor, back in her black makeup. Her matching guns were holstered, and she sat on the bench, casually sipping a large fountain drink from a straw. She looked out of place next to the Blasto ad on display, like she was headed for a battle instead of taking a break. 

Mascara and eyeliner had sweated off against her eyes. Hair had begun to curl around her forehead in sweat. The low bun she had was already falling out of the band. By all means, she looked exhausted. But the drink, the get up, the general radiance of Shepard, and the dark attire in the bright blue Citadel...

“You look like a mall goth.”

The words escaped Joker before he could stop them, but it was too late now.

He watched as Shepard choked a little bit on the drink. “I look like what?” she asked with a laugh.

“You heard me,” Joker said a little more confidently. “You look like a mall goth. Like, a goth who hangs out at a mall.”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?! God, Jeff.”

“Nah, I’d be a terrible god,” he sat down next to her. “Did you have dinner yet?”

Shepard shook her head. “Nah, I just wanted something to drink,” she said. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Huh, so you were busy. Word on the vine is that there was some violence near Chora’s Den.”

“Oh. Was there?”

Silence beat for a few seconds as she drank from her soda. 

“...Margaret…”

“Yes?”

“Was that violence you?” Joker asked.

“Possibly,” Shepard added the musical inflection to her voice. “It’s more fun if you guess.”

So, that’s a yes.

Joker sighed. “I’m taking that as a yes. Jesus, Margaret. Even when you have time off, you always have a field day,” he said. “We’ve been here for about six hours and you already busted some criminals.”

“I didn't know we had time off. I should have clocked in overtime,” Shepard let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ugh...a raise would sound perfect right now. I was mean with the Council.”

“You’re always been mean with the Council.”

“And what about it? According to them, I apparently attract trouble everywhere I go, including the Citadel.”

“For once, I’m not arguing against that. You are a trouble-attracter.”

Shit. Good on him for not saying you are attractive, I've had the biggest fucking crush on you for a long time and I can barely keep it together.

And good for Shepard for not being able to read minds.

“Seriously? Trouble-attracter?” Shepard asked flatly. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“I can do better. Trouble-maker. Trouble-causer. Trouble-creator. Trouble-curator. Hang on, I can look more up,” Joker's hand went to his wristwatch, to pull up the omni-tool. 

Shepard laughed, though it sounded a little mocking. She shook her head.

It felt good making people laugh, but when Joker made her laugh, nothing could compare to it. It always felt like he struck gold. Probably because of the aforementioned crush.

Okay. He was going to bury that deeper. 

“Okay, yes. Trouble-all of the above,” Shepard said. “Since I cause so much trouble, why not solve it? Make my dad’s job more exciting.”

Her dad, or stepdad, Emmanuel Mora was a clerk who consisted of desk duty and write ups. Joker would know about it. 

He could still remember his laughter about the parking citation.

“You mean harder because of the paperwork that comes with it.”

“Details,” she waved it away. “You should know, Mister Parking Citation.”

That immediately shut Joker up.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered. “Anyways. Were you able to see Manny?”

She sighed.  “No, sadly. I got to say hi to Ellie, but he was off doing PR shit. I called my mom at Anderson’s office for a few minutes before she went off to do more Alliance shit. Then, just as I was going to get some sleep, I got summoned for a pre-meeting. Then afterwards, I had to do some ‘clean up’ and then I had to go for a hearing with the Council. And then, at C-Sec, when I went to the exec wing to see my dad, he was on lunch break!”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Of course not,” Shepard scoffed. 

Joker wasn’t falling for that. 

“Liar,” he called her on the bluff. And sometimes, it had been a wildcard to do so.

And then her smile dropped.

“How did you know?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, I took a few shots to the side.”

Before Joker was about to speak, she held a hand up. “Relax, my shields held most of them up. It didn’t go all the way. Just...maybe might leave a bruise or something.” 

“Did you at least put on some medi-gel?”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Chakwas,” Shepard said sarcastically. “I deployed the medi-gel as soon as I felt the impact.”

But Shepard carefully leaned down to place her cup on the floor next to her crossed ankles. The wound must have been worse than she was letting on.

“By the way,” Shepard started as she leaned back. “Thank you for persuading me to get some shut eye. And for bringing me coffee.”

The Shepard dynasty was tough, in every form of the word. Pre-Alliance history and current. There was always a recurring theme when it came to conversations about wounds and blows received in the field when it came to Shepard; she always downplayed it. She always bit down her complaints about it unless prompted. She sucked it up. 

All these years of knowing her, and Joker still wasn’t sure if it was a Margaret thing or a Shepard thing. 

Maybe both.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“It helped,” Shepard said. “A lot. Had I not had it, I would have fallen asleep during the service and wouldn’t have been able to survive combat.”

Surviving combat. Again.

“,” Shepard waved it away. “It’s fine, Jeff. I don’t hold it against you. You’re fine. You’re a pilot,” she said. “You were piloting, or whatever it is that you do at the helm.”

The second part of the sentence caught him off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Joker asked.

“Every time I see you in the cockpit, you’re just…. sitting there. Making some smartass remark, maybe pulling a lever or two.”

“I am... taken aback,” Joker said indignantly. “Margaret, how dare you accuse me of slacking off on the job?”

A smile tugged at Shepard’s lips, but she shook it off. “Am I wrong?” she asked.

“You always leave when I do the real work.”  

“I wasn’t aware the Normandy had a steering wheel.”

“Okay, so sometimes I press a button,” Joker said. “Whatever. But back to the point…Honestly, it just kinda hit me about how life is pretty short, especially when you’re out in the field.”

“Next time you get knocked out by a Prothean beacon, you’ll be by my side when I wake up. Jeff, it’s honestly fine. So, what if we’re all shaken up by Jenkins’s death? It happens.” 

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“I have some news. We have three new crew members.”

“We what now?”

“Garrus Vakarian of C-Sec, Urdnot Wrex of Tuchanka and Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. They're on the squad. Tali is taking time off her pilgrimage to work on stopping Saren.”

“Pilgrimage, where have I heard that before?”

“It’s a Quarian coming of age custom.”

“Oh!”

“She’s really nice. You’ll like her. I knew of Garrus by name before, so I’m somewhat familiar with him. Wrex is a krogan, and a damn good fighter too.”

“I’m just giving you a heads up; some crew members might not…be fond of them not being human.”

“I’ll deal with them myself,” Shepard said firmly. “And another bit of news you might find interesting; I’m a Spectre now.”

Joker paused. “Wait, what?! You’re a Spectre?!”

“I can explain. So, there was…already the possibility of being in. Nihlus was evaluating me during the Eden Prime mission for Spectre status. But then…everything happened. Then Saren had the audacity to be holo-present at the hearing and deny allll allegations and he had said I wasn’t ready to be a Spectre. The violence happened outside in the Wards, everyone linked up to confront the council. So, they said some shit, and I argued otherwise. I brought up Nihlus’ approval, brought up the Blitz, brought up how I was a human who caught a turian red-handed, how humanity has been rejected over and over again, I pulled every card in the book in order to call him out. And it worked. It fucking worked. I argued my way into becoming a Spectre now.”

“God, Margaret. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Neither do I,” Shepard said with a disbelieving laugh. “But I’m in. Jeff, I’m in! Another bit of news.”

“God, there’s more?! Margaret, I’m still not over the fact that you’re a Spectre!”

“It’s the last bit, I swear! Captain Anderson is going to be working with the Council. And he handed me the reins.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Normandy belongs to me now.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m staying on the Normandy permanently.” 

“That's…. that's awesome!”

“So, you’ll get to see me more often,” Shepard smiled. “We can adventure across the stars together, just like we said we would.”

“Hell yeah we will! Okay, I - I know you said you were not hungry and it's a long day, but do you want to celebrate? Or at least grab a quick bite before we head back. I am positive you did not tell me every bullet point by bullet point detail of what you exactly yelled to the Council and how the fuck you ended up with the Normandy.”

“You're right,” Shepard picked up her helmet and her drink. “Let's get something to go. Because it's a long story and we don't have much time before Anderson changes his mind and takes the keys from me.”

Chapter Text

Shepard, Tali and Garrus stood in the elevator in silence as it descended down to the Mako. Truthfully, it should be an easy day. Not much to do other than check out the anomalies that were detected.

Shepard was rather tired, but still awake enough with the coffee in her system. Double, technically, if she guessed the spoonful she put in there correctly. The breakfast burrito was delicious and was doing its magic. Tali was quiet, barely waking up herself. She slept heavily. She had once said that the Normandy took some getting used to, but once she found her method, her sleep got so much better. Garrus was quiet.

The elevator was taking forever.

"Fastest ship in the galaxy. Slowest fucking elevator in the universe," Garrus deadpanned, breaking the silence.

Shepard busted out laughing so unexpectedly. Tali did too.

It was going to be a good day.

"Plastic Love is one of the best songs ever created," Shepard said. "You cannot change my mind. You're having a long day? Plastic Love. You're feeling joy? Plastic Love."

"Nonsense. It's Stay With Me," Garrus said. "Miki reached musical perfection with that."

Shepard shook her head. "It's good, but not as perfect as Plastic Love," she argued. She pulled over next to the anomaly. The Mako was parked, but she enabled for the music to play as they wandered around. 

They could deal with the hostiles with a wonderful soundtrack.

"Say So is better for driving around," Tali stated. "Plastic Love is good, but to drive around...I don't know about that. I need to try it."

Shepard had been walking on foot on another rocky planet, helmet in place and Mako parked not too far from the anomaly. No trouble to run into, yet. 

"Here we are!" Garrus exclaimed. "Capsule spotted."

Just another crashed asari capsule. This was an unpiloted probe with asari data. No pilot, no missing asari. No casualty. It was a good find. Tali was getting better at rerouting the anomaly search probes in engineering.

“Third one out of seven,” Shepard scanned the probe and sent the picture to the Asari councillor, for evidence. “Good find, Tali.”

“Thank you, Shepard!” Tali said. She had worn a new pale lilac hood this time. Lilac, with the etched designs of deep violet flowers that stood out against the etchings.

It looked so pretty on her.

Tali stepped to Shepard's side. “Logically, the rubble would usually lead to the crash site upon impact, but this went in all directions. This had to have been internal engine failure for it to have scorched so much.”

And surely enough, the ground had scorched marks everywhere as it exploded. 

“I think it’s safe to say that between the three of us, Tali has all three brain cells,” Shepard said. 

Before Tali could continue, Garrus cut in. “It's dextro DNA. We're just better than you.”

“Ah, not so fast!” Tali pointed a finger at him. “Shepard said all three brain cells belong to me ,” she pointed back at herself. “Not you. I am better than you!" 

“Tali, Tali,” Garrus feigned a gasp. “Where is our solidarity?! We need to stick together!”

Solidarity? That was a funny word for it. Shepard thought it was pretty obvious that he had a crush on Tali. 

Though he did not help his case by riling her up with the man-turian-splainy comments. 

And it was pretty funny to see that Tali had a crush on him too.

“We? We?! Where is my credit?! Where is my planet, you bosh'tet!” Tali demanded. “Where is your credibility? Such fancy C-Sec training, such high target count competiton with Wrex, yet you’re the one shooting at walls instead of shooting through targets!”

“Oh, goddamn! Tali! You didn’t have to kill him like that!” Shepard laughed. 

“I’m surprised he isn’t dead by missing so many targets!” Tali mimed Garrus shooting at the floor, then to the sky. “Like that! You’re literally shooting like that! What kind of stupid standards did  C-Sec have for you?!”

“This is slander,” Garrus crossed his arms. “This is complete slander.”

“It is not slander when it is the truth!”

“I feel threatened.” 

“As do I, whenever you lose aim! What are you trying to compensate for?!” Tali exclaimed.

Shepard laughed and laughed. God. She loved her friends so much.

She could live like this forever.

Truthfully, she was adjusting much better than she ever thought. The ship became familiar to her. The sounds became familiar to her. The helm was the most frequent place next to her quarters that she found herself wandering in. 

Then she had to dream about Joker.

In the dream, she was still fully dressed at first. But then they were kissing. Kissing harder than Shepard ever anticipated would come from him. The build up was fervent with the years of tension, of yearning. Of fantasizing. The hands were wandering. It was somehow every fantasy she has tried to ignore, every feeling she was tried to not name, but the clothes being askew from her body. She could feel Joker kissing her neck. His shirt was off, and hers was in the process of landing on the floor. Her skin felt hot. Then she felt back of his head in her hand, as he kissed downward. Precise movements getting her closer to the brink…

She wanted this. She wanted him.

One hand gripped her thigh. The other found hers and held it tightly.

"Jeff---" her own voice was breathless. As breathless as his.

"I'm here," he kissed against her skin. "I'm here, sweet thing." 

Shit, how could he guess that was her weakness? 

"I got you," he soothed a bite against her thigh again. His free hand reached down.

She was closer. Closer...

She couldn't think much after that.

Shepard woke up. Hot. Bothered. Very hot. Very bothered.  She wanted to scream. But her breaths were a little too fast for her liking right now. It was a nice dream.

Too nice.

It was feeling too much like deja vu all over again.

She should be over this. She needed to be over this. Needs to be over this.

But here she was. Oh no. Oh no. She should not feel like this.

Shit. 

Shit. 

Shit.

Shit.

Chapter Text

It was another day, another mission, on the Mako. Another day in the life of searching for mineral deposits while listening to music on the Mako's radio. Things were calm. The songs were vibing. Margaret Shepard was having a good day.

And somehow, a Thresher Maw appeared.

“Oh. That’s a Thresher Maw.”

“SHIT! Commander, get out of there!” Garrus cut in. “Now!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Shepard began to switch the controls to steer away and back up. But the liquid was hissing already on the hull, and the screens were still loading with the omni-gel repairs.

“Reverse, Shepard! Hit the pedal!”

Shepard lifted her foot and stepped on the pedal, only to remain static.

She hit the brake.

“Not that pedal!”

“I am aware of that!” Shepard turned the reverse shift and switched her foot to the other pedal, suddenly sending them backwards. “Hang on!”

“Wait, wait, there’s a rock!” Kaidan looked through the scope. “Careful over the b—”

“Hang on!” she felt the uncomfortable bump as the Mako went over it. “Garrus, what’s our repair status?”

“80% done, keep shooting!”

“We need cover, Shepard,” Kaidan said. “Hard turn to the right - my right!”

“Okay! Hard turn to the right!” Shepard squeezed the steering wheel as hard as she could and turned to the right. She felt her stomach lurch as it went over more rocks.

The control went awry, and the sharp turn turned into a complete summersault. The seat belts kept them in place, along with the gravity, but the Mako was upside down.

A sudden explosion to the right singed past the screen, a rocket shattering the stone behind them and the remnants of the rock tapping on the bottom of the Mako. The Thresher Maw was getting closer and gearing up another attack.

“Shepard, do something!”

“I’m trying!” She searched for the booster button. It would heat up faster and slow the repairs, but it would have to do. “Okay. Here we go!”

The Mako jumped up and up, then with a strong turn, landed on the wheel-side. And Shepard booked it, narrowly missing some acid.

“Keep driving in the same direction,” Kaidan said. “I almost got the shot.”

“Garrus--”

“It’s done! Shoot the bastard down!”

“Opening fire!” Kaidan aimed and began shooting.

It took a few rounds to prevent the gun from overheating, and more maneuvering and finally, the Thresher Maw went down.

As the gun cooled down from the fight, so did Shepard and her crew. Shepard exhaled and took off her helmet first, then wiped the sweat from her brow.

“So, everyone in one piece?”

Kaidan took off his helmet, as did Garrus and they both glared at her.

“Yeah...you take the wheel, Kaidan,” she said. “I’ll just...not drive.”

“That would be a lot safer, Commander.”

They had unbuckled their seat belts and exited the Mako to access the damage to the gun, though it was not excessive. Just the stains from the acid remaining, along with the burnt tread marks on the ground as Shepard had tried to zig-zag away from the thresher maw.  The thresher maw laid dead about fifteen meters ahead of them, at least that was the last Shepard had seen while in the Mako.

She turned around to where the Mako had landed on its back. And could not believe the sight.

The spare tire had popped out and detached from the Mako altogether.

“Oh. Oh my god.” Shepard burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me!”

Garrus laughed. He laughed and laughed. “Shepard, this may be the worst one yet.”

“Worst or best?”

“What’s the fuss?” Kaidan asked, then he saw the tire. “Oh! Oh god.”

“Hang on. Hang on. I--” Shepard could barely speak through her laughter. She pulled up her omni tool on her wrist. She somehow got Joker’s contact name up and sent a request for a video call.

A few seconds later, he picked up

“What is it?”

“J-Jeff. Joker. Joker. I—” Shepard could not stop laughing. “Turn on your video feed. I gotta--I gotta show you something,” she turned the camera to face the tire.

 “Oh my GOD. Shepard, what the fuck?!”

“It was an accident! We were ambushed by a Thresher Maw!” she pointed her arm to the Thresher Maw ahead.

“How did you get the Mako on its back and how did you pop its spare tire?! I didn’t even know you could pop a spare tire.”

“How am I supposed to know?! It just happened!”

“You know what? That’s it. I’m overriding your position. Garrus, you drive. Please drive. Do not let Commander Shepard near the wheel. Kaidan, this goes for you too.”

“Got it, Joker,” Kaidan said, though he was mid-laugh as he did.

Joker sighed dramatically. “I'm already disappointed in all of you. Please try to come back to the Normandy in one piece. All of you. Anyways. Joker out.”

Shepard approached him the cockpit of the SR-1 later on that evening. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was her. She would touch his shoulder as greeting, and surely enough, she did just that and he looked up at her.

“See, I know you, Shepard. Always have. I know how technology works. I know that the innovation of the Mako makes it revolutionary to do many feats, like going up right on mountains and through craters. Yet somehow, you manage to make new breakthroughs and breakdowns on its capabilities. Like doing a backwards barrel roll while getting chased by a Thresher Maw!”

“Well, Joker, in my defense, the Thresher Maw was going towards us and we did what we had to do to survive.”

“But...I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Seeing that you are N7, you have to pass advanced driving training. And knowing that it’s the same system that is used in the Alliance all around, you would have to be graded on a decimal value. So, I’m going to ask you this; what did you get while driving?”

Shepard blanked.

Yep. He got her.

“I passed,” she answered neutrally.

“What were the numbers?”

“.....They were passing.”

Yeah. See, Joker had just witnessed Shepard do a cartwheel in the Mako. He could be here all night.

“What were the passing numbers?” he asked again.

“Numbers that are passable.”

“So, what were the passable numbers?”

“Cl—Classified.”

“Not really, you weren’t a Spectre then. See, you had to pass to even get the N7 certification. Which leaves me with two possible questions; are the passable numbers bad or are they just embarrassing?”

“...Both...”

“Alright, I’ll be nice. What was the rounded scale number out of 10?”

“A 7.”

“Yes. The passable number. And a scale into its raw decimal value?”

“...6.96705.”

“.....”

“Which rounds up to seven.”

“…..”

“To quote the proctor, I did the incorrect formula but somehow got the answer right.”

“…You’re a terrible driver.”

“Yeah,” she patted his shoulder. “Good talk.” And left.

Chapter Text

Shepard's feelings on the SR-1 could be describe in the most concise words that could fit it; angry, sad, frustrated, optimistic, repressed and horny. A little optimistic. More on the repression. But absolutely everything about the horny.

She hadn’t slept much. Her own racing thoughts, her own mishmash of feelings  racked her brain. Her heart. Her horniness. Even after taking matters into her own hands and coming with shaky breaths, toes curling and a small moan slipping through, even while trying not to think of him. Even when she gasped out his name. Again. She had cleaned up and put her sheets in the washer. Put a new set down. She showered. She changed. She tried to wind down. She passed out but it was not restful. Her head hurt again with her stupid alarm. Shepard was too angry and too horny for this. Yet another dream of Joker. Another night of breathing his name against the pillow. She could not look at him in the eye whatsoever, not even in the mess hall. She kept her hand on the back of the chair when she visited - only for him to reach out and hold it, or her wrist. Sometimes, she could not even mumble out an excuse. She wanted this. She wanted him. She wanted his hand holding hers, her hands on him, his kiss against her, his tongue in---

Shepard. You are in Noveria right now.

Noveria was cold. Exhausting.  The snow and the isolated feeling that followed wasn't welcoming. Something was deeply wrong with Noveria, deeply wrong with every tunnel and footstep she took further in. She was grateful for the tram taking so long to load up so they could leave. But mostly so she could just have a moment. The vibes were off and she wanted to fuck her pilot. Welcome to the life of Shepard.

At least she could rest her feet there.

She was tired. But even in the tram, she couldn't sit down long enough before having to continue on. 

She was down bad.

And someone else who was down?

"Fuck!"

Garrus fucked up his ankle. 

He kept saying it was a cramp from the cold. She didn't believe him. Of course she didn’t. She saw him make the wrong misstep as he stepped onto the rail cart. Survived the fight, the hot mess, Benezia. Then one step wrong and Garrus crumbled.

He did not get back up. 

Shepard forgot her problems immediately and went to go tend to him. He was shaky. Shaking. His ankle was hurting. He could barely talk. 

She helped take off his helmet and to help him breathe. And he sobbed.

It wasn't the ankle. Garrus has had worse falls than this. It was not the ankle with the second to last medigel being deployed out to treat the pain. Something about the mission got to him. She knew he was too quiet all day already, other than the mumbled complaint about the cold. Being stuck in her own head, she didn't realize how quiet he was the entire mission. He's Garrus. He's never quiet.

Shepard said nothing and just held him. She expected to be shoved off, to be told to fuck off and leave him alone. Thankfully, Liara was too busy with the control panel to notice. She did notice, probably. But out of respect or sheer numbness, she did not look.

Garrus cried and cried. Shepard knew that kind of stress; when you have so much inside that a paper cut can lead you to a breakdown. 

All Shepard could do was shield him until the moment passed and his sobs subsided.

In the meeting, Garrus had carefully leaned his ankle out to not bend  it. Shepard almost requested a foot stool. 

Ashley sniped a few comments, to which Shepard shot down. Tensions were always high when it was a big mission. Noveria was a frustrating ordeal, especially with the rest of the squad being sidelined through the red tape of limited crew and the tiny Mako. The squadron was still getting used to one another. Wrex was not the instigator, but he liked to snipe back. If he was compelled or interested enough to do so. 

Liara and Garrus had tagged along for this mission. It was an emotional one for Liara but she was doing fine. Garrus was still quiet.

“Enough, Ashley. It's been a long day...Even longer for some of us,” Shepard waved them all away. “Everyone, thank you for your hard work....You’re dismissed. Garrus, please go see Doctor Chakwas.”

“I already told you, Shepard. I'm fine.”

"Please go see her."

"About earlier..." Garrus paused. "Thank you."

"Of course," Shepard said softly. "Is everything okay?"

"I...Is anything really okay now? In general?"

Shepard shrugged.

Garrus carefully leaned on his other leg. "It's just family stuff," he said. "But I'm better now."

Shepard was about to call it and go to bed when of course, Joker had to buzz in. 

"Commander, Council wants to talk to you."

Well, it did help kill any mood when it was the council.

"Patch them in."

The holograms appeared in front of her and the Council began to yell at once.

"Commander Shepard, what were you thinking?! In being so reckl---"

"Bye." Shepard hung up. 

Joker let out a laugh. "Never gets old! Good one."

"I try," Shepard rubbed her eyes. 

"You sound tired."

"I am tired," Shepard said. Her head hurts even after the shower and the meal. There was no telling about her feet either, or her back. She was exhausted. 

“Margaret, you were on your feet for almost eleven hours. Without breaks. Go get some sleep.”

“There's so much to do…”

“It will be there in the morning,” Joker said. “Go sleep, Margaret. Come on. I'll make you coffee when you get up.”

“You make a tempting offer.”

"Please indulge me in it. Go sleep."

"What about you? You're not sleeping w--” GOOD ONE, MARGARET, ‘SLEEPING WITH ME’. GOOD ONE, DUMBASS. “--at the same turn as me."

“That’s because I already slept. Rose picked up the shift while you were out all day.”

“Ah.”

“Come on, Margaret. I'll take you to bed myself.”

Oh. Fuck.

FUCK.

Her throat felt tight and she was so glad that there was no video feed. So he could not see her fluster and fall apart.

“Shit, Jeff,” her voice was a little shaky. “That's one way to do it.”

FUCK. 

“But you're right...I need sleep.” And another cold shower. “So, I should go.”

"Yeah,” Joker cleared his throat. “Rest is good! I'll see you later.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Joker watched the computer panel. He knew his face was red. He knew he was blushing. He didn't mean to let the Freudian slip of wanting to take her to bed. 

He knew he heard the state of the art communication system in the Normandy, with full vocal clarity and incredible reception, with no chance of the audio shortaging without a warning. He heard the shakiness in Shepard's voice. He heard it. He heard the breath hitching.

He bit at his knuckle. And exhaled slowly.

Repress.

Repress.

Repress.

He was so fucked.

In her quarters, Shepard let out a muffled scream into her pillow.

Chapter Text

Dream sex. She had dream sex with Joker. Sex dreams with your best friend happen, right? It's a small ship. 

It had felt so good. Felt so real. The lights were still off in her room. She woke up before her alarm. Oh no. No, if she skips going to see him, he's gonna know something is off. Or maybe he won't.

Fuck.

First, you're gonna take a cold shower. A very cold shower. The coldest shower possible. Snap you out of this.

Frowning, Maggie continued to wash her hair.

This shouldn’t be happening.

It’s a small ship. She had a weird sex dream with Ashley before.  Sex dreams with friends happen to everyone, right? It happened with Garrus too.

But these were emotionally charged dreams with Joker. Very emotionally charged. Too emotionally charged with feelings, romance, dare she say, a crush.

It already begun again. Oh boy. Oh boy.

“You're a battle-worn soldier from a decorated, important dynasty. Yet you still want to explore the stars, find reason and meaning to this universe. Even through all of its complications, through all of its troubles…But you're still a person. You yearn, you desire…”

Sha'ira trailed her finger across Shepard's lips. 

Shepard exhaled shakily, face warm in the best way possible. Everything felt sensitive as it was, especially with the dimness of the room, the haze of the sex still in her senses. She had felt so good with Sha’ira. Sha’ira had enjoyed it.  

“But it's not my touch you crave, right Commander?”

And the revelation hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“What?” Shepard sat up from the bed. “What do you mean?”

“You already know your answer.”

“I actually don’t.”

“You do. You can't outrun this galaxy. Nor can you outrun who you want. What you want. Who you tried not to think of while pleasuring me.”

Shepard hated this.

Well. To be specific, she hated how she felt like this. Horny, repressed, frustrated. Like the military academy all over again. Shepard could do without being recognized. The Citadel was a large place. Not like she's doing yet another walk of shame across the Citadel anyways.

“Are you Commander Shepard?”

FUCK.

“Yes ma’am,” Shepard said neutrally. “Can I help you?”

“Khalisah bint Sinan Al-Jilani, Westerlund News,” Khalisah did not offer her hand to shake. “We met during your Star of Terra reception.”

Wait, they did?

“Uh…. Wow!” Shepard said aloud. “I cannot believe it's been so long! How have you been?”

“I have been working! I am assigned to be the correspondent for the Citadel.”

“Oh! Congratulations,” Shepard said. She wished she could slap herself. Congratulations. Was that even appropriate to say for a correspondent role? God. Where was Emily Wong when she needed her? Where’s Emily, the journalist who took her time in asking her questions and didn’t write about Shepard’s anxiety.

“Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?”

She already didn’t have a choice. “What sort of questions?”

“The ones that need answering,” Khalisah said. “So, yes?”

“I mean, sure. I could spare a moment--”

The camera blinked on, along with the light shining directly into her eyes. Shepard winced. 

“I’m here with Commander Margaret Shepard of the Alliance Navy. People back home have heard a lot of wild stories about you, Commander. I can give you the chance to set the record straight. What do you say?”

“Um, I don’t think I can. Due to the nature of my work, I may not be able to answer all the questions.”

“I’m sure our viewers will understand secrecy, Commander. You’ve been given a unique position to represent our race. Humans have been trying to get the respect of the galactic community for 26 years. With that in mind, what are your feelings on being the first human Spectre?”

“The Spectres represent the best of every species in the galaxy. To be asked to join them is an honor.”

“Some have said your appointment is the Citadel ‘throwing humans a bone.’ But there’s also controversy that being assigned Spectre while there have been other talented human soldiers is also due to a move of favoritism of your parentage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your mother recently turned down an admiralty star again, and retained captaincy of her ship. And there’s a difference in protecting human interests and Citadel interests.”

“I--what? No, that has nothing to do with it.”

“Have you encountered any situations where the Citadel asked you to place its needs before the needs of Earth?”

“It’s not like that. The Council is concerned with the needs of the whole galactic community. We’re part of that community now. Our needs are on their agenda, but we’re one of many.”

“You really do believe that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Shepard smiled, though the words were tinting a little towards murder. She was angry. “The Spectre charter allows me to complete my mission anyway I see fit.”

“That’s not quite an answer, Commander. What if the Council asks you to work against humans?”

“Well, I think they know not to ask me to work against my own people.”

“Hm....You think. Well, I think our viewers will be glad to hear that you think that, Commander. You’ve been given command of an advanced human warship for your missions.  Is there anything you’d like to say about it?”

What a passive aggressive bitch!

“Actually, the Normandy was co-developed by human and turian engineers. Its design incorporates many innovations. All of which are classified, I’m afraid,” Shepard fake grimaced. 

“So the Turians have knowledge of the Normandy that is being kept secret from the Alliance public?”

“Negative, ma'am. Again, this is a co-op innovation between talented Turians and talented humans. The best of the best united to do this. While many details are still classified to the public, I can tell you in full faith that the Normandy is a fine ship and has the best crew I’ve ever served with.”

“Some members of that crew are aliens, as I recall.”

“Well, isn’t humanity considered alien in Citadel space? I wouldn’t use that terminology to dismiss them.”

“Fine. Some are non-humans.”

“Yes. And they are fantastic people to serve alongside with.”

“Speaking of your new job, did the Council order you to sabotage research concerns on Eden Prime?”

“Classified.”

“Of course it is. Given your recent experiences, do you think humanity will ever get the respect it deserves from the galactic community?”

“I think humanity will grow once the close-minded humans understand our role in not pushing an agenda, which is what you’re doing. Excuse me, Miss Al-Jilani.”

“You can’t just walk away, Commander.”

“With all due respect, I am not in the mood.”

“The public has the right to know! One last question, Commander. Rumors back home say you’re tracking a ‘rogue Spectre’ named Saren. Do you have any comments on that?”

“Classified!”

“Are you dodging responsibility?!”

“Classified!” 

 “You can’t just walk away from an interview.”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment on what my current assignment may or may not be. And I am walking off.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find out. The eyes of earth are on you. You cannot be a coward and hide behind your family’s name for so long.”

Keep walking, keep walking, she just wants to get a rise out of you. 

“Is that what all Shepards do? Run away from responsibility? Like your mother turning down the admiralty--”

Okay. Time to shut you up. 

“Take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“Take it back. I’m giving you the one chance.”

“I'm not taking back the truth---”

“Good to know,” Shepard punched her. 

“You bitch! I’ll make sure everyone in the Alliance sees that!” 

“Keep walking, lady! I’ll give you a matching one if you want!”

“Your career is over! Over! I know you have a cover up!”

“You wouldn't know a goddamn cover up even if it flashed neon! Don't talk about my mother like that ever again!”

Shepard was too angry for this.

In the mess hall, Shepard was eating a pathetic salad. She could do with not being spoken to.

“You slugged a journalist?”

And of course it had to be Joker.

She felt butterflies in her stomach. She turned to face him. “Hardly a journalist, not a real fighter for the press. More of a bitch.”

Joker laughed. “Good hit,” he squeezed her shoulder and walked down the hall.

Goddamn it. Goddamn it. Goddamn it.

But even then, life wasn't all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.

She barely slept. She was more stressed out on the field than she should be. But it felt easier to keep going than to pause and admit defeat. She was made for this life of combat, born into a lineage of soldiers and sailors, let it be into exploring Terra or exploring the rest of the Milky Way galaxy. 

But the counting got worse. So did the repetition. The habits that she couldn't break, that only kept her up more nights. She did assignment after assignment, favor after favor, rescue after rescue. 

But she was fine. 

She had to be.

She was Commander Shepard. She was a Shepard. She remembered Ernesto in the Wards, with how much he was begging for stims. He had recognized her, because of course. She acted like her mother. She walked like her mother, carried herself with pride like her mother. 

And the man needed help.

She called her mom that same day in the Normandy, asking for guidance on how to help Ernesto. And her mother did give her that, when she called her that night and reached out to help him. Shepard got the email from him saying thank you.

“How is the ship?”

It's perfect. 

“It runs very well,” Shepard smiled. “The crew is doing great.”

“That's good. Anderson did a good job with choosing you.”

“Thank you,” Shepard smiled. “How’s the big world?”

“It sucks. I hate it.”

“I can relate. I hate the Council too.”

“I heard a lower deck rumor,” Kaidan said to Joker one night. Very drunk.

“What's the alleged rumor?”

“That Liara has a crush on the Commander.”

“Oh. Nice. I mean, I don't blame her.” At Kaidan’s expression, Joker continued to explain. “Come on, you have to admit it. Everyone is a little bit in love with the Commander.” 

“Everyone?”

“Either a little bit in love or a deep appreciation for her.”

At Kaidan’s expression, Joker continued. “Hey, you know it's true. She's strong, beautiful. A great person. What isn't there to not like?”

Kaidan let out a small laugh. “Everyone or just you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious…what do you mean what?”

“I—I don’t like her like that.”

“What is this, middle school? Dude, you love her. She loves you. It’s super obvious. Don’t get me wrong, she is a great person. Absolutely great. Absolute badass. She is attractive, charming, badass. And she is also in love with you.”

“I—”

“You want to look me in the eye and deny you have feelings for her?”

Fuck, I can’t lie about that. I love her. I fucking love her. Shit. I thought I was over her for so fucking long.

Kaidan nodded. “I thought so. So why not go for it? You and Shepard. As an item.”

“Why would I think about that?”

“You sound so defensive.”

“I’m not defensive,” said Joker defensively. 

For a moment, the cockpit was filled with the quiet hum of the Normandy. 

Joker stayed silent. 

“Have you thought about it?”

Maybe in a different timeline where we were both civilians still stuck on Arcturus, we could have been together. Talking about how crappy the food was at the same kiosk we always ate from. Travelling the galaxy together. She's been in my life as long as I can remember. We grew up together and did everything, side by side. And now, she’s here. On the Normandy. I tried to outrun everything—but I am not good at running. One way or another, she’s been part of my life even when she wasn't there. I think of her. I miss her. And now she's here, serving alongside me on the best damn ship in the galaxy. Things feel too good to be true. I can’t get my hopes up.

“Why?” Joker asked.

“Have you thought about it?” 

Yes.

And Joker could not lie anymore.

“Yes,” Joker said, finally. "I've thought about it so many goddamn times. She is a Shepard. And us…it would ruin her reputation.”

“Joker, that is the stupidest fucking excuse I have heard from you yet.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“She is Margaret Shepard. Do you think she gives a shit about the Shepard reputation? Do you think she gives a shit about what anyone says? Fuck everyone else! Go for it! You stole the Normandy dude, you can do anything!”

“Kaidan, aren’t you the one who doesn’t date crew?”

“I don't. And I am also drunk. But I’m serious. You like her. You love her. She loves you. Go for it.”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. After we finish hunting down Saren, I will ask. Maybe then I have the guts to ask her out. Now, I just—have to keep my shit together and not fall apart around her.”

“Honestly? Don’t be surprised if she confesses to you first.”

She wished it was his hair she was grabbing. She wished it was him.  She wished she could wake up next to him and kiss him. She wished she could kiss him. Form a life together. She wanted to hold his hand, explore the galaxy with him. Call him hers.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ashley was talking with Joker about the Mako footage that he was still laughing about.

“Is that Shepard?”

“Yep.”

“There is no way she is gonna make that climb,” Ashley said. 

“Yeah, well. This is Shepard you're talking about. She has a habit of breaking physics,” Joker said. 

And barely passing physics, too. Margaret got a C in junior physics. They both did.

“She...she made that climb. You're kidding me.”

“The little Mako that could,” Joker put his hands behind his head. “And the Shepard that drove it.” The interface pinged. A Council hazing call.

“Ah, shit. Duty calls.”

“Godspeed, Jokester,” Ashley left.

“Thank you, Ashland...Shepard, you got a call from the Council.”

A long aggravated groan. “Patch it through.”

“Commander, is this some kind of game? Are you calling in a report just so you can cut us off again?”

“Maybe so,” Shepard said. “Don’t piss me off, I won’t hang up.”

“You answer to us.”

“Bye.” And she hung up.

Joker laughed again. “That never gets old, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all.”

“Ah, hey Commander. Next time we touch down, let’s try not to park in the ship in a colony of mutant zombies. Just thinking out loud here.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“How are you feeling?”

“The usual.”

“Are you alright?”

Considering I got off from a dream about you...yeah. I'm fine.

“Well, I had another beacon of mind-memory of an ancient, extinct civilization implanted into my mind again, so…” Shepard trailed off.

"Beacon of mind-memory. Is that what the kids are calling it now?"

“Calling what now?"

"All the crazy shit you do. Jesus, you look exhausted."

She slept a little too well that morning. “I'm not overworking myself.”

“You do,” Joker said. “You always have. Even back home.”

Home. They rarely talked about home.

“You remember?”

“Of course I do,” Joker said softly. 

“So much has happened since then...it feels so weird to think that I had a life before this.”

“I just don't like to see you struggle. Especially here."

"Well, it is not anything I'm not used to," Shepard pressed her hand onto his shoulder.

"Wait. Let me see your hand.” He reached out to her hand, one that was scratched all those months ago when she first stepped on the Normandy.

“It's not bad,” Shepard said softly.

"Let me see," he made room for her to sit down. “It barely healed.” He touched it gently with his thumb. Every touch was electric. “Endurance. Is that some type of N7 training?”

“Something like it.”

“What happened here?” he brushed against a small scrape that never really faded.

“I bumped against an armored wall in the Citadel.”

“And here?”

“Noveria. Shields were not up.”

The barest of touches against her arm scar. The one that ended across her lips. Her eyelids fluttered. She swallowed. 

“This?”

“Blitz,” she said softly. She was breathing heavily already. “It was a close call. I shielded my face...my uh...money...maker...”

She was reading this right, right? Right? She was going to kiss him. Were they going to kiss? She was ready to take off her clothes.

“You need to slow down,” Joker said softly. “Margaret….”

“Commander!” Ashley called out.

FUCK DAMN IT.

“Shit. I have to go.”

It was a late night conversation with Garrus, one of her and him just hanging out alone in the weapons bay. In the two bunks that formed his bed because he was the tallest one on board.

“What is this about Turian...pre-battle rituals?”

“Some spar. Some….go to bed alone. Some….go to bed together.”

“Are you---are you propositioning me?”

“I mean,” Garrus paused. “I would, because holy shit, but...it wouldn't be fair to you. What you really want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you and Joker need to make up your minds and take each other's clothes off…”

“What?!”

“It's very obvious, Shepard. Come on.”

“No, it isn't!” Shepard flustered. “You don't make sense!”

“In another galaxy…Oh, without a doubt, I would have probably married you in two weeks flat. But some things are just meant to be. You’re a good fit together. But. One thing, though. And I know the context is all over the place. Just to uh, get it out of my system.”

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Garrus?! A kiss?!

“Hell yes!” 

And she kissed him, without hesitation. This was Garrus. Yes, she loved Joker. And of course she would kiss Garrus when asked. Both statements can co-exist. Equality!

Garrus kissed her back. And it was not just a light peck. Good. Good.

She felt him pick her up for the height, pin her against the bed. His teeth slightly bite her lip. Oh, this felt good. This felt so good. She was so starved for touch that this was so good. Garrus was way too good at this. Holy shit. 

The kiss was dizzying. Great. Got the buzz going in her veins. He kissed her jaw, her neck, then trailed back to her lips. Then the kiss slowed down. He pulled away and leaned his forehead onto hers. Caught their breath.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I have always wondered...and now I know.”

“No problem,” she kissed his cheek. ”No problem at all.”

“You need to confess to Joker.”

“And you need to confess to Tali.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

And then.

The ship got grounded.

Joker had to do. Had to confess. 

“Hey…” Joker said. “Regs are stupid anyways. There's something here, right?” He asked softly. “Something worth fighting for.”

“Yes…I…Jeff, I want to do something very, very, very reckless right now.”

“What can be more reckless than this?”

Shepard breathed heavily. ”I can think of a few things.”

“Show me.”

Shepard kissed him.

He threw every reservation he had out the window. He kissed her back. Let the eternity of who knows how long of his feelings for her be poured into that kiss. 

Oh god, she was kissing him. She kept kissing him. 

Her hand went to his hair and knocked off his cap. His cap landed somewhere. But he didn't care. It wasn't squished.

It. wasn't squished. His cap was fine. Yes. Fine.

Maybe the beard bothered her, maybe he really was in over his head that this was happening. 

Shepard let out a shaky moan, one he felt when he softly bit the side of her neck. Fuck. Okay. He was on the right track. She grabbed him tight to pull him closer. “Keep going, please,” she pleaded. “Please, please…”

“God. Yeah, gladly.”

He looked for the zipper on her shirt. Did their uniforms not match? Shepard reached down and unzipped the top, her fingers fumbling as she did. 

“Is this okay?” she asked. 

“Fuck, it's---very okay,” he helped toss the shirt to the floor. “It's very okay.”

“Good, good. Let me—” she fumbled with his zipper. He helped her with it.

Shepard took a moment to lay down. And he followed. 

“Come here,” Joker kissed her again. Some strands of her hair were loose. He knew his hair was a mess too. Her breathing was quickening. Sometimes, her hand on him faltered. ”Baby,” Joker reached out. “Let me give you a hand. Teamwork makes the dream work.”

He laughed. Then the laugh stuttered. She kept the pace up with him. 

So close, so close...

Then the overhead speaker rang out. 

“Shepard, you have an incoming call from Anderson.”

And the moment shattered into billion pieces. 

God fucking DAMN it. 

Shepard froze. He froze. Her lips stopped moving. His hand stopped moving. His heart also stopped too, for good measure, as did any spinning of the axis.

Joker put his arm over his mouth.

She slowly....pulled away from him and wiped her mouth. Her breath was held and tried to exhale carefully.  

It was like fate and the universe was waiting for the moment. Waiting for the best of times, for the worst of times, for everything to steam up only to pour cold water on them. To interrupt in the worst possible moments. The moments they finally had peace, finally figured their shit out, finally had a moment to breathe. To when he was about to come fast due to the repressed sexual and romantic tension he's had for one woman all these years.

“Shepard? Are you alright?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah,” her voice was too composed. “I got it. Tha--,” there was a crack in her voice. He watched as she had a brief little swallow that was the hottest fucking thing he has heard yet. The little voice cracks. How he made her feel like this. 

It still wasn't enough to spare Kaidan. Not when Joker was ready to beat the shit out of him for interrupting this.

Kaidan was a dead man on sight. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead. How dare he interrupt a hand job?

He'll kill him.

He'll kill Kaidan for this.

“Thanks, Kaidan.”

Thanks for NOTHING, asshole! 

“...Alright. Over and out.”

The transmission ended. And they both gasped out a breath.

“Shit,” he could barely breathe steadily. “....Shit.”

“Shit....Yeah,” Shepard let go of his hair. But even then, the touch lingered. She smoothed it out with her hand. Let her hand trail down the side of his jaw. They caught their breath. ”Goddamn it, Kaidan. Send a fucking email next time.”

“You gotta go…”

“I know.”

 She was in a similar shape. But duty called. The fate of the galaxy and everything called. 

She paused. “I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

She slid to her knees.

“May I?”

Ah hell. He's still gonna kill Kaidan anyways.

“Absolutely.”

She kissed him. She was so warm. His mind felt clearer. Softer around the edges. 

“I'm still gonna kill Kaidan,” Joker said softly against her lips.

“Me too.” She kissed him deeply, letting the world be forgotten. “When we have time, I want to fuck you so hard you forget your name.”

“Good. We're really on the same page, aren't we?”

“Mm,” Shepard chuckled. “God, we should have been doing this a long time ago.”

“Yeah…we really should have. But now, we know. Better late than ever, right?”

“Yeah,” she pulled away with a final kiss. “I have ten minutes to get ready. Want to see how I speed run my mornings since basic?”

“By all means.”

Shepard sprinted to the bathroom and cleaned up. The change of clothes she brought with her were now on, and the dirty clothes were thrown into the hamper outside. She used a makeup wipe to clean off her face, to rapidly apply the eyeshadow with her left index finger and the mascara with her right hand. It was fast. Bam, bam, bam. She wiped off fast, smeared on some lipstick and then pulled her hair. 

He went to clean up and when he returned, he went to lay down on the bed. He was twenty nine, not as young and spry as he was in flight school. He was not N7 like Shepard. He needed a minute to catch his breath. Or ten. Or a nap.

“Oh, this looks terrible. Oh, no matter what I do, I look like I just had sex.”

Joker laughed from the bed. “Just do what I do. Use some gel. A shitton of it.”“Gel, hair spray and hot glue. Shit—” Shepard went to her omni tool on her vanity. “I gotta call Garrus…Garrus! We're going to see Anderson!”

Something fell off the ground. “N-now?”

“Yes, now. Get Tali.”

“Hi Shepard!”

“Oh, well that makes this easier,” Shepard frowned. “What...were you guys doing anyway?”

There was a pause. “Calibrating!”

Shepard glanced at Joker over her shoulder. 

They were definitely fucking.

Shepard smiled, like she was smothering a laugh. “Well, put a pin on the mutual calibration session, because the galaxy has awful timing and we gotta talk with Anderson.”

“Okay, we’ll be there. Soon.”

“Cool. See you.”

Joker’s own omni tool pinged. “Well. Huh,” he frowned at the message. “Anderson wants me to stand by in the cockpit.”

“Standby?”

He showed her the message. “Yeah, stand by…damn. I wanted to nap.”

Especially now that I am in a really good mood.

“Joker, what the hell is going on?”

“No idea…I'm gonna cleanup and stand by. Anderson says anything, I'll say I was asleep. It is late in our ship cycle…” and he was really tired. “And maybe grab a few energy drinks. Restore my energy.”

Yet he was already sitting up on the bed and picking up his cap. And helping her zip up her shirt. He helped her put on her bra, not backwards. Wow. Instead of taking it off again, he was helping her put it on. Which felt like salt to the burn. Kick me when I'm already down. He was going to kill Kaidan.

“Okay. I’m gonna clean up and find some clean clothing.”

“Oh, I should have some uniforms here,” Shepard stood up. “Let me check…here. They might fit a little tight, but for me, that is the opposite of a problem,” she checked him out. “Opposite of a problem, really.”

“Wearing my girlfriend’s clothes, huh?”

Shepard smiled. “So long as I can wear my boyfriend’s cap.”

“That is never going to happen. Wear your boyfriend’s hoodie instead.”

“You don’t have hoodies.”

“I do. I think. Somewhere...”

Now that he knew how it felt like to kiss her, how could he resist? He leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t want to let go of that feeling. 

She kissed him again. And again and again, an urgency and need that wanted to pull her closer and know more about what it was like. 

But duty called and was waiting for her to pick up the receiver. 

With one final caress against her jaw and kiss against her lips, he let go of her.

“Go, before you're late. I'll be around.” 

First, he confessed to Shepard. And now, he was committing treason to chase down a batshit Spectre who was part of an ancient race of Reapers who want to wreck the Milky Way to complete their genocidal urges.

All the makings for a romantic night.

“We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

“Point of no return,” Shepard exhaled.

And he knew she did not mean just the Reaper war.

“We’ll be alright. We can do this. We got each other. We can do this.”

“We can,” Shepard said. “We can.” Always, she had her hand on his shoulder. But this time, Joker reached up to hold it.

Shepard held on tighter.

“Any minute now…”

“Come on, old man,” Shepard murmured. “Come on. Come on....”

Then the screen glowed green.

“We got it! Go, go, go!”

“Let’s go!” Joker let go of her hand and began setting off the controls. “Systems are ready for takeoff. Engine is powering up.” 

“We’re going to Ilos?”

“We’re going to fucking Ilos.”

“Fuck yes!” Shepard grinned. ”Systems are a go. Let's get the fuck out the Citadel. Joker, can you speed with the Normandy?”

“Margaret. It would be my genuine pleasure.”

They were en route to the next destination. Before the world changed. The Normandy, gone rogue. Everything, gone rogue.

Shepard went to her quarters but let her hand trail on Joker’s shoulder before he left. In the same spot she left a bite mark under his clothes. He could still feel it a little.

He waited a few minutes. Checked the time. They had time.

And he walked as stealthily as possible to see her again.

“Hey. It's just us now,” he said softly. “You don't gotta worry about anything.”

Shepard paced. Then she asked. “After this, I have a feeling that nothing will be the same. You feel that too…right?”

“Yeah. And a lot is...weird right now. And we don't know what exactly will happen when we land. But what I know is that I like you. A lot. I've—liked you for so long. I tried denying everything I felt about you and I was wrong. Honey, I was so wrong. I will follow you into hell. Anywhere, so long as it is you.”

“I tried to outrun the galaxy and tried to outrun what I felt,” Shepard said. “And I ended up here. And I—you mean so much to me. More than anything.”

“What do you want to do the night before the world changed?”

“Like I do any day. I want to spend it with you,” Shepard leaned up and kissed him.

This time, he laid the cap on the table. And muted his fucking emails.

They were not going to get interrupted. Saren and Kaidan be damned.

It felt better than the first time.

Her blanket was pulled on top of him. She fell asleep in his arms. So sound asleep. She needed it. He needed it.

He knew he was bound to overthink. But his mind felt clearer. A little calmer. Orgasms do that, dumbass. Woman of his dreams was now asleep in his arms. Now what? There was a newer unknown. She was going into the big battle—maybe the biggest battle yet.

He listened to her breathing. Slow and steady. She looked so comfortable. So peaceful.

He tucked a curl behind her ear, away from her eyes. Let his hand stroke her hair.

Yeah. He could have this. Even if it was for a little bit. 

He listened to her breathing until he fell asleep himself.

The alarm blared next to her bed. Startling them both awake.

“Fuck, I hate that alarm,” Joker groaned.

“But it's the only one that wakes me up.”

“Yeah, it scares you awake.”

Shepard chuckled and resettled into his arms. “Mmm….five more minutes. I know the fate of the galaxy is on our shoulders, but five more minutes…”

“As much as I want to sleep for five more hours…we need to get up,” Joker sighed. “Okay. Let me yank off the Band-Aid.”

And he yanked off the blanket.

“Dude!” Shepard exclaimed. “What the hell?!”

“Come on, Maggie. Big day! We gotta shower—and fast.”

“I’ll need a cold shower again,” Shepard sat up. “Do you even know how many cold showers I had to take because of you?”

“Probably as many as I did.”

“A lot! A lot!”

Six minutes later. They had to caffeinate.

Shepard was combing her hair and putting it into a Dutch braid to run down her head, tucked into her armor. It had gotten longer since she first came aboard all those months ago. 

“You have a mini fridge?”

“It was a gift.”

Joker opened it. “Water, coffee, soda. The essentials.”

“You want food? Go to the mess hall.”

“You drink espresso shots? Jesus, Margaret. No wonder you're so wired. Here, tries something sweet instead,” he found a large can of cold brew. With a dash of hazelnut.

“I thought I ran out!”

Kaidan was blabbering about how the land would be impossible, how the drop for the Mako would be bad.

And honestly? Joker has had enough of Kaidan’s bullshit in the past eighteen hours.

“I can do it.”

“Can you?”

“You forget who the fuck you’re talking to, Kaidan. I can do it.”

"But the dr---"

"Shut the fuck up, Kaidan! I can do it!" Joker snapped out. "Again. I can do it!" 

“You heard the man!" Shepard exclaimed. "Kaidan, gear up. Garrus, gear up. Pressly, to the engineering deck, let the crew know, I want every engineer on standby for the engine. Tali and Adams to the engineering deck, stat. Wrex on standby.”

Pressly on the engineering deck for now? For what—

He felt a hand tilt his chin and hold it up. 

Shepard kissed him, hard. The kind of kiss he got before the end of the world. The kind that sparked that fire in his veins. Something to live for. Something to die for. This was the big battle.

Shepard pulled back shakily. But she did not want to let go.

So he manned the fuck up and kissed her again.

“Come back to me,” he said firmly.

“I will. I will.”

This was a victory.

“The Reaper is dead! Keelah Selai!” Tali screamed in victory. There was screaming. The hit landed, straight through Sovereign. Tali was screaming. He was flying. Nothing could feel more satisfying than this. 

"Holy shit!” Pressly shouted out. “You did it!”

He could see the engineering screen filled with hugs and cheers.

“Holy shit!” Rosamund exclaimed into his ear. “You crazy son of a bitch! You actually did it!”

“Yeah. I guess I did,” Joker exhaled. “Fuck! Fuck yeah, I did that shit!”

“One hell of a pilot!” Rosamund yelled out. 

“Come on, let's send the rest of them into hell,” Joker said.

“Fire at will, Joker!”

“Let’s do this shit!”

“Sheesh. What a day, huh?”

Tali laughed. “What a day.”

“You did such a great job down there.”

“It's nothing ---”

“What do you mean it's nothing? You did it! You are a badass!” Joker hugged Tali. “You are the most awesome badass in the fucking galaxy!”

Tali giggled.

“There she is!” Adams picked up Tali in a tight hug and spun her around. “There she is!”

“You did it! I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you!”

The airlock hissed open.

Shepard walked into the cockpit, exhausted. But alive. 

She smiled at him. He stood up and walked over to her. “Hey.”

Fuck it. He swooped her into his arms and kissed her. This made everything worth it. She smiled against the kiss. Kissed him harder. 

“That was dramatic, I know, but I really wanted to do that.”

Shepard laughed. “I'm glad you did.”

“Can I swoop-kiss you every time you save the galaxy?”

“Hell yes.”

He leaned his forehead onto hers. But she just looked up at him instead. Touched the side of his face with her palm. Then she winced.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Shepard said. “It's my wrist.”

“Let me see,” Joker said.

“It's just my wrist. I broke it.”

“Just my--Uh ow?! Come on, I'll walk you to the med-bay,” Joker said. “No one else is up right now. Well, they are but they're drunk downstairs. Dr. Chakwas should be up.”

“Okay,” Shepard said softly. 

“Come on.”

With the more steps she took, she was landing on shaky feet. Eventually, her good hand reached for his sleeve. 

She stopped. 

“What's wrong?”

“I'm so tired.”

Even if anyone saw, how could he not help her? She looked tired. She was tired. She defeated Saren with punches at the end. She had to dodge geth and Sovereign.

He carried her as best as he could.

“Do you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Please. I---I mean... It's a lot. It really is. I'm sorry. I'm not good at this. I’m so tired. All of this—all of this happened—and—” tears were starting to form. “Oh god—why am I crying?”

“Hey, come on. Come on. Margaret, you just saved the fucking galaxy. You had a long day. But you made it home. You made it. I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey,” Joker kissed her forehead then. “It will be alright. It is gonna be alright. Come on. Let's sleep.”

In the morning, she felt a lot better.

He woke up to her writing an email on her omni tool.

“Hey,” he stirred. “What’s up?”

“Just gotta write this before I go back to sleep,” Shepard said quietly. “Before I forget.”

She was almost done. He leaned against her shoulder to wait or go back to sleep.

“Is this good enough?”

Joker opened his eyes and leaned over to see the message, glowing from her wrist.

Hello to the most badass fucking ship in the galaxy,

I am incredibly proud of every single one of you. We get 5 days off. We will assist the Citadel with recovery efforts. The Milky Way won today because of your hard work and dedication. I am so fucking proud.

Celebratory late lunch tomorrow, courtesy of Captain Anderson—or should I say Councilor Anderson! Make sure to congratulate him tomorrow!

I am so lucky to serve on the best damn ship and the best damn fine crew in the galaxy.

With gratitude,

Commander Shepard

He smiled. “It’s perfect.”

“Thanks.” Shepard hit send. “Go back to sleep.”

“Will do,” he kissed her shoulder. “Will do.”

Chapter Text

She could not get enough. They could not get enough. Making up for lost time, Joker had kissed the words against her skin the day after defeating Saren. 

Catching up on all we missed, Shepard had agreed.  

The gala after the Citadel recovered from Saren had been a party to remember.

Open to all, extremely secured, a celebration at the prevention of the end of the world. There was promotions, sales for gowns and suits that soared over the roof, anything to be gala-ready. There were awards. Cheap, hastily made tabloid documentaries that had the civilian's perspective of the major battle. What a way for the socialites of the Citadel to take the home front of the news and capitalize on the Battle For the Citadel. Depending on who you asked, the victory against Sovereign was for humanity. Or it was for honor. 

And it was so much bullshit.

Joker had seen the beacon react against Margaret Shepard during the first mission, where she was knocked out for twelve hours and woke up to report that she had seen terrible visions. It was waved off as injury-related head trauma, not to be taken oh so seriously. She did favors for half Citadel space, half Terra, and she still managed to be more diplomatic than the council. 

But she was humble. She deserved the attention and the world to see how good she was. Hell yeah, that's Margaret Shepard. 

But the galas were just another way to dismiss her warning and pretend everything was fine. The Shepard dynasty had its history in the Milky Way and she somehow managed to outshine her own steps with being the hero of the Skyllian Blitz and now, the Champion of the Citadel.  

At the gala, Joker watched her from a distance. She only got a moment to say hello before she was whisked off by Hannah, the mother Shepard that half the galaxy feared and respected all at once. Shepard danced with diplomats, with Ashley, with Tali. With Kaidan. With her brother. With her dad. She even got to dance with Anderson, briefly. Shepard couldn't dance, not at all.

He sat in the same area as the Normandy crew did, mingled and laughed with his friends. He almost got to dance with Shepard. 

Too bad Hannah didn't let that happen.

He watched as Shepard slunk away from the crowd and went to the bar with a sparkly pink drink. He followed. 

“Hey handsome,” Shepard grinned. "You come here often?"

"Can you remind me? I seem to be distracted by this really hot, beautiful woman right now."

"Distracted? The best pilot in the galaxy is distracted?" 

“Absolutely. How I killed Sovereign is beyond me,” Joker sat down next to her with his own drink. They were far away enough to not be eavesdropped on. "God, you look so good..." he whispered.

Shepard smiled. She looked down to her bubbly drink. “This one won't smear,” she said, voice hushed. An invitation to sneak around. 

"It'd be kinda hot if it did."

"Hot but impractical."

"My only personality traits."

"You are terrible at this."

"Not bad enough to repel you, right?"

"Hah! Not enough, if you ask me.”

"Away here, away there, fitted for this, fitted for that," Joker listed. "Did you know all I did for the gala was put on some gel? Gel and a leather jacket. That's it. But you? Goddamn.”

Shepard swallowed. Maybe she could sneak away from the gala with him right now. Right now.

Yeah.

She saved the galaxy.

She definitely fucking could.

“The stairs don’t have cameras, right?”

“No.”

“Good,” Joker lifted his hand up to her face and kissed her. 

She pulled him closer. He carefully pinned her broken wrist with his hand, just above her head. Soft whimpers escaped her throat, sweet music to his ears. He could never get enough of her like this.

He could never get enough of her in general.

Shepard moaned softly, so softly.

One hand drifted up her skirt.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he drifted his hand up her skirt.

Her breaths were already shaky, the tension ready to snap.

“You,” Margaret stuttered out. “You, honey. Only you—Kiss me. Please.”

And he did. 

In the bathroom, Joker cleaned up. He adjusted his cap in the mirror, rinsed his face and checked for lipstick marks.

There were none.

He smiled. Yeah, that’s what he thought.

Shepard cleaned up in the restroom. She freshened up. Covered herself in perfume to hide any of the stray evidence that she got handsy with Joker. She was being reckless like this. She was reckless like this. But she loved it. She loved every second of it. A stolen ten minutes for themselves, for once. Fuck everything.

She could have this now.

If the text from Shepard about confirming to meet him in the courtyard meant anything, she managed to get away again. He left the gala as it was dying down, sticking around to send a message to hi family in Tiptree that could not make it. It was nice to see Gunny again, and his dad, even if it was through a screen. 

They agreed to meet in the courtyard, on the rooftop garden by his apartment he rarely got to use. 

Shepard stood at the railing of the terrace and watched the view from above. The loose bun she had styled was undone, with curls going down her back. The velvet turquoise of her dress glimmered in the faint violet lighting of the upper Wards. 

In another time, he thought so abstractedly, she could be a queen. Watching over her own kingdom. Margaret Shepard could shake the galaxy to its bare atom foundations and she had proved it so with saving the Citadel. 

But that didn't matter.

“Hey.” 

“You’re here!” she exclaimed.

“Of course I am,” Joker grinned. 

In fast strides, Shepard crossed the clearing of the courtyard and pulled him into her arms.

He stepped back at arm’s length to look at her closer.

“My god,” Joker said. “Let me just…take you in.”

“What?” Shepard asked.

“You…look amazing.”

Even her black wrist brace matched with the sleek manicured black nails. The velvet dress glimmered in the dark. She was so pretty.

“Thank you,” Shepard smiled. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

“Oh, this? I just put this on,” Joker said. 

And he had. Just an Alliance leather jacket with nice pants, nice shoes and a nice button up shirt. He wore the Normandy cap, as usual. 

And hilariously, it was one that Hannah did not like and had pointed out in the moments before Margaret got there.

“You, however…Wow. You look amazing.”

“Glad you like it,” Shepard said. “You should have heard the outcry I got from everyone when I first got to the gala.”

“So, by everyone, you mean your mom,” Joker stated.

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “Something about the slit being too high, my neckline being too low, ‘Maggie, why is your dress so...elegant?’, ‘Your brace doesn’t match with the fabric’...” She sighed. “Yeah. Every comment under the artificial sun.”

Joker snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like Hannah,” he brushed a curl over her ear. “Hey, don’t take it too personally. She missed you. She sure as hell did not miss me.”

“Did she give you a hard time?”

He thought back to the friendly ribbing he got from Maggie’s brother, the bear hug from her father and the downright criticism from her mother, unwelcoming and full of spite.

Ah, Shepards. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said. And he meant it. He spent almost all his life dealing with Shepards. 

Yet, Shepard didn’t believe it. Her frown showed it. And he fought the urge to smooth out the frown on her forehead with a kiss. 

...He could do that, though. He could.

He had to be a little daring. All of this was truly uncharted territory, since the confession before Illois. Since the night that followed after that. And any stolen moments that they could have up until the morning before she fought Saren.

“Hey,” he kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it. Hannah's got nothing on me."

To his relief, Shepard relaxed a little bit at the action and linked her braced hand with his own.

"I thought you bailed," she confessed.

“Why would I do that?”

“...Y'know, that’s what rock stars do," she fidgeted at her feet. "They bail their own party to go to another party.”

“Well, the night is still young for an after party, but I don’t think I’m a rock star,” Joker said with a laugh. "And why would I bail in seeing you?"

She didn't have a good answer for that.

Nervousness set in with him for the first time. Maybe he was in over his head. Maybe she was trying to reject him as politely as she could. 

"Unless...do you not want to---"

"What?! No!" Shepard exclaimed. "I mean--yes--I do want to be here--" she exhaled. "Okay! Okay. I can do this...Yes, I want to be here. I really do. It's just...Today was overwhelming. There's a lot of bullshit."

"There's no bullshit from me," Joker said, and he meant it. "Okay? We're on shore leave. Let's just...enjoy this moments as they come. Gala is behind us. Or, below us. Technically."

Joker wrapped his arms around her waist and watched as the gala continued hundreds of meters below the terrace, the bass of the music and the lights of the Citadel shimmering below the nebula sky.

He looked down at Shepard, who was tired but happy. There was a glimmer on her cheeks was barely there yet highlighted by the soft violet of the stars above, like a soft kiss. He must be the luckiest man in the galaxy if it meant that he could hold her like this. Every moment was borrowed with the threat of the Reapers. 

But every second was so worth it. 

“I'll never get over how beautiful this is,” Shepard sighed. 

An emotion lodged in his throat that he wasn’t sure he could say out loud yet. The emotion that always fluttered and festered when it came to her. How she was the one person he always had on his mind, since they were both seventeen and musing about travelling through the stars outside Arcturus.

“Me either,” Joker said softly. 

But he wasn't looking at the Citadel.

He kissed her hair, then her temple. He wondered if he could live in this moment forever. Or at least delay it in not ending for a few more hours. With the secrecy of the relationship, all of their moments were stolen.

"Margaret, would you like to stay over?"

"Yes," she smiled and hooked her elbow around his. "Lead the way."

Eventually, they would have to be back in three weeks to report back to work on the Normandy. The Alliance’s reward to the crew for saving the entirety of the Citadel from a threat they did not take seriously was a medal and three weeks' shore leave. Three weeks. 

Thank you for your service and almost dying for our ignorance. Here’s a gala, a ceremony, a promised raise, a monument and three week’s vacation. Don’t forget! Report to the Normandy docking bay at 06:00.

Joker tried not to think about that.

The Saturday morning, she woke up before him and over cooked the eggs. She wore his sweatshirt and some shorts he forgot he owned. She offered to keep the burnt eggs for herself and cook another batch for him, but he was too busy serving them on his plate to let her argue otherwise. He didn’t care. Every moment was worth it with her. Burnt sunny side up or not. 

She put old Earth radio music on, musing about concerts and wondering if there was such a thing as Hanar Broadway. To which Joker said of course there was. To which she said she would believe it when she saw it. 

It was the tiniest slice of normalcy; her overcooking the eggs, the way that even after the gala, she still couldn’t dance but didn’t care about it. Like his own, her voice was slightly hoarse from the night before. Her eyes were dusted with the last of mascara she could not wash off entirely. He was happy. She was laughing again. 

And he focused on the slice of normalcy. The bare crumbs of it.

Who knew how long it would take before it all went to hell?

Chapter Text

It was on a Sunday morning when Shepard had her two day bliss interrupted with a phone call from Tali.

“Hello?” Shepard mumbled.

“Shepard! Your mom is looking for you!” Tali exclaimed.

“Wait, WHAT?!”

“We lied and told her you were dropping off your dress at the cleaners!” Ashley cut in. “Well, I lied. Liara kind of flustered, but it was fine.”

“We need to go and bail. Make it convicing. So hurry up!” And Tali hung up.

“Fuck! I should have changed!” Shepard exclaimed. “Ugh! This only happens to me! Only me!”

“What happened?” Joker woke up. “Is the Citadel on fire?”

“Worse! I need to find a route for my walk of shame! Because my MOTHER is looking for me! I don’t know about what to wear…”

“Oh shit! Uh...There should be something in my dresser,” Joker stretched. He stood up and began looking through his drawers. “I am pretty sure I have a few sweats from last Christmas that Kaidan gave me...” He pulled out a pair and set it on his bed. “I got my flight academy alumni shirt--no, too obvious. You can't drive.”

“Fuck you!”

“You already did, baby. Here. This is an Alliance shirt. It's innocent enough.”

“Okay, that should work. Let’s see…Wait, what's your shoe size?”

“You should know by now,” Joker said. 

“How should I know by now?”

“Because---”

“Because what, Jeff?”

Joker continued laughing.

“Oh, because of your dick size! Because of the myth that shoe size equals dick size!”

And Joker busted out laughing.

“What do you mean by myth?”

“Because it's false!”

“No, it's fact! I have science credentials.”

“You failed physics.”

“So did you!”

“Fuck you, I got more science cred than you ever will!” Shepard tossed a sock at him. 

“Let me pull out the measuring tape later on, for more accurate results!”

“Hilarious! Very funny! I can hardly contain my laughter!” Shepard deadpanned.

“Here, some slides should be good enough,” Joker said. He tossed a pair to Shepard's feet.

“I'm gonna pretend that I'm just leaving the dry cleaners,” Shepard said. “And act like I totally did not expect her.”

And Shepard was a good actress.

“Ma! I didn't realize I'd find you here!”

“Well. I thought I would be finding you on yet another walk of shame,” Hannah said. “Color me surprised.” She was waiting at her door.

Thanks, ma. 

“No walk of shame! This is just my laundry day.”

“What are you wearing, Margaret?”

“Uh, clothes? Like I said, laundry day,” she said. “I went to drop off my gown at the cleaners after the girls' weekend we had.”

“And the rest of your clothes?”

“Ah, in the Normandy. I haven't had much time to move things around. I was getting errands done, it's no big deal.”

“Still! You should be dressed properly and well, even when on shore leave.”

“I could, not should. This is my shore leave. And please tell that to all your fellow generals who go to the strip club in uniform.”

“And what are you doing in a strip club?”

“Busting local warlords with my duty as a spectre!” 

And also respectfully enjoying the view, because the Asari are beautiful, and I am incredibly bisexual.

Shepard straightened out her (Joker's) shirt over her (Joker's) sweats. The drawstrings were drawn to their tightest she could do and up to her waist as best as she could shove the shirt to resemble it tucker in.

She was so glad the strapless bra had her back today. So glad. She was a soldier, that bra of hers.

Old, ratty, but never failing her in the five years she has had it. Even under the baggy shirt.

“You should know by now, ma, that spectre work can take you to all sorts of places in the galaxy. And you meet all kinds of allies.”

“I did meet your allies at the gala,” Hannah said. “Good crew you have there. Garrus has a very hard working reputation.”

“He's wonderful,” Shepard smiled. “A great friend too.”

“And that pilot. Jeremy's son. Jeff is still the same. Crass as ever. Wearing a ball cap to a gala….”

“Again, part of the uniform. And I like to think that the pilot who put the kill shot into Sovereign can wear what he wants,” Shepard smiled and offered up a glass of ice. “Tea?”

“Please. You know...There was that diplomat's son…”

“Let's not,” Shepard laughed. “Let's not. If you're going to set me up on a date, I will not go. I am being considerate enough to let you know this; I am not interested.”

“And there was the daughter of a good friend…”

“I did meet her. She is very pretty. Thank you for the inclusivity. But I'm respectfully not interested.”

Shepard walked into Joker's apartment. Drained. Exhausted. 

“Well. In summary, I had to do the parkour of shame to drop off my ball gown at the cleaners and pretend I spent all weekend doing nothing and watching television when I was actually doing you? Other than how it was the most stressful two hours of my life, it was fine. But the visit wasn't in vain,” Shepard tossed the duffel onto the couch. “Got more spare clothes. Not that I wear much of it nowadays, anyways.”

“I'm not complaining either way.”

Shepard smiled. She laid down onto the sofa, her head in Joker's lap.

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. But enough about me. What did I miss?”

“Not much. I...pretty much fell asleep until noon. Then I went to play pinball with Garrus that turned into a tournament. Won ten credits and 2 free hours on flight sim. Not as eventful of a day as you did.” Joker's hand went to her hair. It was soft under his touch.

“This is just ridiculous. I am twenty nine! I'm almost thirty. And my mom still wants to meddle with my dating life. I don't want to tell her. You know how she is…” Shepard had always been like this. An introvert. Someone who kept more to herself. “The squad, I'm not worried about. The girls already kinda have an idea, but they have not asked yet. I'll be happy to tell them whenever you feel ready. But everyone else…No, I don't have to tell the world shit. Let us have this, just for now. Only if you're okay with it.”

“I am. And honestly, I’d like that.”

Shepard reached to his hand and pulled it down to her lips. Kissed his knuckle. She smiled. 

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do we got?”

But even when things were beginning and were good, there were still moments.

It had been the last morning before they left for the Normandy. Just as they were freshened up.

“Jeff, I'm thinking about resigning,” Shepard said. 

“You are my heart. But everything else...it wears me out so much. I've had this thought since I enlisted. I know, it feels so weird to be saying this after defeating Saren, but my god, I feel fucked up by just thinking about it,” Shepard said. “I feel selfish just thinking about it. I don’t want to leave the galaxy hanging, but I’m also so tired. Not right now, I don’t think it’s even possible without the backlash. I don’t think I can take the public reaction if I did. Oh god--I--It is cowardly of me to just think about it, to even consider the consequences---”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joker touched her hands, to which she flinched. Like she had been burned. 

She froze for a moment. Then covered her face, held her temples.

“Shit--I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be."

“I need to clean up.”

“Don’t worry about that right now."

“I feel so tired. I am tired. I just want to rest. I’m so tired.”

“I know, honey, I know. Whatever you choose, I will support you.”

“Oh honey.”

“I'm serious,” he said. “Anything. You matter to me so much, Margaret.”

He had almost said it then. Three words, so simple yet so much at once. 

“We’ll figure this out.” 

"I'm just so tired. But no one takes me seriously. No one takes the girl who screamed reaper seriously..."

"We will figure this out," Joker repeated. "We will. We will, baby. I promise you that."

"Thank you," Shepard sniffled. She hugged him. "Thank you."

"You don't gotta," Joker kissed the top of her head. 

Sneaking around was a normal thing, right? What normal couples did with a new relationship.

He always was a little more daring than most of his classmates. It’s how he took the Normandy for a joy ride, and flew her as smoothly across the galaxy. 

So he dared a little. It was a little tedious to sneak around to find her on the Normandy, even more to sneak into her quarters. But whether the crew was catching on and saying nothing, or they totally knew since day one and said nothing, it did not matter much.

But it meant waking up an hour before everyone else to get his "morning routine" underway that garnered him an "early bird." Waking up an hour early in Shepard's quarters to her annoying alarm. He swore it was once a Terran siren instead of an alarm.

“Ugh, come on,” Joker groaned. He pulled the cover over his head, knowing damn well that the action only mimed resistance against the alarm being so loud. 

And since she was incredibly cruel, Shepard pulled off the cover.

He could hear her laughter. And while he loved hearing her laugh, this was at his expense.

He turned around to see her sitting at the desk-turned vanity area as she got ready for the day. Her hair was wet and left some trails down on her shoulders.

"You know what's the old Earth saying? Early bird gets the worm?" she asked. She had already showered in the tiny restroom that he did not know existed in her quarters up until recently. She kept a spare toothbrush of his in her mirror cabinet already. 

“The backup pilot already did their job,” Shepard grinned.

“And what do you have to do?”

“You, mostly.” 

“Mostly? Is there another pilot I should know of? So we can trade shifts?”

It took Shepard a moment to catch on his meaning. The slow realization of it had her groan into the mirror, then finally, like most of the audience that was ever present for his comments, had her turn around and complain at him. “Oh, that’s terrible. That's actually the worst pun you have ever done.”

“But am I the worst pilot you have ever done? Be honest.”

Shepard started to laugh. “Stop. Stop. Please stick to your day job. You’re terrible at this!”

“Well, hey. Give me some time to practice.”

She laughed out loud, the sound so beautiful and full. It felt nice hearing her laugh more and more after Saren.

“You're in luck. Since you're such an early riser,” she smiled. “We have all the time in the world. I’ll see you in the mess hall.”

Now, all time had run out.

Shepard was careful when she pried him out of the chair and through the flames of their burning ship. Desperation caught on to her final stretch to get him into the escape pod.  With a push of her nova wave, Shepard flung him into the escape pod and he definitely felt something break. The door sealed as she slammed the button out, then she was out in open space.  

“Oh...my helmet.”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.

All he could hear was her choking.

“Hey, Maggie,” Joker said. “Hey. Come on, just hang on. Help will be on the way soon. Please hang on,” he begged. He wasn't sure to who he was begging to. Was it a Hail Mary, to ask for more time? When they had no more time and no more hope?

Somehow, her helmet cracked. Her suit was running out of air. Somehow in the process of saving him, her helmet damaged. 

“Shepard, honey, I'm begging you, please stay with me. I'm so sorry this had to happen. Stay with me, we'll get you safe. Hang on-”

Then he heard it. It was barely a whisper, barely heard over the hum of the ion engine beneath his broken leg. It was her voice, the one he loved to hear so much.

“Jeff.”

Then, her communication link went silent.

He shoved himself up on one seat to grasp at the handle of the sealed pod. In the tiny window, he looked to the emptiness of space and to her motionless self. It was no technical failure. No glitch in the system. 

Joker felt his heart drop.

No, no, no, fuck.

It can't be true.

It isn't true. 

But he heard it himself. He heard her last breaths. Felt her last touch.

Her last words were his name.

Chapter Text

Margaret Shepard wasn't sure how to feel when she woke up from being back from the dead.

Then she woke up once and her first thought was that oh no, mom was right. I did go to hell.

Then a cute woman with an Australian accent talked to her?

Was that God? 

Probably not.

Then she fell asleep again.

Then she's being yelled at to wake up and put on a suit of armor and find a gun that doesn't overheat and uses ammo clips? She finds no hair tie, instead being forced to tuck her hair into the back of her armor. She was alive for some reason. Her face hurt.

So maybe Shepard was slightly erratic when Jacob Taylor hastily introduced himself and asked her in the middle of fighting mechs if she was okay. Maybe he omitted the details that yes, she did technically die, but the Lazarus project done under Cerberus brought her back to life. And he also omitted the detail that her biotic powers were much stronger than they were before she died and she screamed when there was the unexpected kickback that almost sent her flying.

So now there she was, sitting in a shuttle.

Confused as hell.

Alive again?

“Okay. Run that by me again. I was dead?” Shepard asked for maybe the fourth time that hour.

“Yes,” Miranda Lawson said curtly. She sat across from Shepard in the shuttle, legs crossed. She typed out on a datapad that was sitting on her lap with one hand, and scrolled through the second one with her other hand. How?

“You suffocated in space due to damage in your suit. Bit of a rough way to go,” Jacob commented.

“I remember that,” Shepard  said. “And Cerberus brought me back?”

“Yes. For the past two years, the Lazarus cell has been working non-stop to keep you alive. The project cost almost two billion credits.”

Shepard gaped. “I cost two-billion credits?”

“Aside from that, I'm just to make sure your memory is still intact…” Miranda pulled out another datapad. Where did she get it? “I'm going to ask you a few questions.”

“Seriously?” Shepard asked. “You tell me that I was dead for two years, and you're the one asking me questions?”

Miranda's attitude didn't change. “Just humor us, Shepard,” she said. “We need to make sure you're one hundred percent there in your head.”

Shepard sighed, crossing her arms. In annoyance, she leaned back into the seat. “Fine,” she huffed out. “Not like I have much of a choice.”

“Who was the first human admiral appointed to the Council?”

“David Anderson.”

“And what is he to you?” Miranda asked.

“Former captain of the Normandy and my mentor. That's--Does he know I'm alive?”

“Next question,” Miranda took notes in the new datapad. 

Shepard turned to Jacob. “Jacob, does Anderson know I'm alive?” she asked.

Jacob shrugged. “I don't know, Shepard. Sorry about that.”

Great. Even Jacob was on a need to know basis. And he works here!

“What's your mother's name?”

“Hannah Shepard. Wait, does my mom even know I'm alive?”

“Final question: what was your gun of choice?”

“Easy. Katana I shotgun.”

“All correct. You passed. Congratulations,” Miranda said, still continuing to type.

“Yay,” Shepard said sarcastically. “Do I get a prize? Like answers to my questions?”

Miranda laughed, unaffected. “Patience, Shepard. Everything will be cleared up soon enough.”

Shepard remembered that she died.

She knew. She was there. She felt the impact against her helmet that caused it to run out of air. She managed to get Jeff to escape in the pod and to safety, and that was all that mattered. He was safe.

But she remembered the crack. The tiny crack that came from her helmet hitting against the metal frame as she tried to escape. Hell, she felt every suffocating breath. She felt herself die.  

And now, she was alive. 

Shepard has searched in the facility for a communicator. A phone. A computer. Anything. Anything to contact Joker, Anderson. Ash or Kaidan. Hell, she would even willingly call her mother. All she got of vague responses was that it was two years after the attack. 

But everything was offline, like Cerberus had planned against her. No extranet to even search an answer for.

And now, Shepard stood in an empty room that was dedicated to talk to just the head man in charge. What kind of dramatic bullshit was this?

The Illusive Man sounded like a joke, but he appeared and greeted Shepard. 

“Illusive Man, how come we’re not meeting face to face?” Shepard asked, apprehensive.

“Necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what we know.”

We? The fuck am I supposed to know?

“Right,” Shepard said. “From what I hear, I cost you a pretty credit to revive. Why?”

Why her? Why Shepard, out of all the people?

“The same reason why you were alive. The defense and preservation of humanity. I didn’t spend two years and billions of credits bringing you back to serve as a common soldier.”

That was no answer at all. 

“Then why?”

“Humanity is up against the greatest threat of our brief existence.”

“The Reapers.”

“Good to see your memories are still intact. How are you feeling?”

“I noticed a few upgrades,” Shepard moved her hand, the light purple hue moving around her hand.  The force of her more upgraded biotics power caught her by surprise in the middle of fighting the mechs alongside Jacob. “I hope you didn’t replace anything important.”

“We tried keeping you as intact as when we found you. Well, aside from finding you dead.”

“Heh,” Shepard quirked her brow. “Good one.”

“We did not alter your brain. Just enhanced your biotics and made you a stronger soldier, a stronger result of what N7 trained you to endure. We don't need a Cerberus soldier. We need Shepard, just as you were in your prime when you defeated Sovereign.”

“What are the Reapers doing that made you decide to bring me back?

“We’re at war. No one wants to admit that. Bad for the press, as one could say,” the Illusive Man stood up, cigarette resting on the ashtray. “But we’ve been under attack. While you were asleep, entire colonies disappeared. Human colonies.”

“Fighting a war doesn’t seem like Cerberus,” Shepard crossed her arms.

The Illusive Man showed some surprise. Instead of saying anything, he took a drag from his cigarette. 

“Yeah, I did some digging before I spaced out. Cerberus is up to some shady stuff. For the hoorah of humanity. So, why are you involved?”

“Because, Shepard, we are committed to the advancement and preservation of humanity. If the Reapers are targeting us, targeting humanity, trying to wipe us out, Cerberus will stop them. If we wait for politicians of the Alliance to act, more human colonies will go missing,”

“That...still makes no sense. The Sovereign Reaper was trying to harvest all life in the galaxy. Why would the Reapers target a few human colonies?”

“You don't see the full picture here. Hundreds of thousands of colonists have vanished. I’d say that fits the definition of harvesting.”

“If the threat is as big as thousands of colonists going missing, then Then how come the Council hasn’t acted?”

The Illusive Man laughed. “Shepard, you know very well how competent the Council is about humans.”

At that, Shepard couldn't argue. She grit her teeth. 

“Even though your mentor is a strong advocate for humanity on the Council and representative of humanity in Citadel space, the incidents are too random for a legal investigation.”

“Why are Reapers attacking humans?”

“I don’t know why they’ve suddenly targeted humanity,” the Illusive Man said. “Maybe you got their attention when you killed one of them. So far, you seem to be the only one who has.”

“You're making it sound like I punched a Reaper to death. It wasn't just me: it took hundreds of soldiers who fought alongside me to defeat Sovereign,” Shepard shook her head. “You’re going about this wrong. If this is a threat against humanity, you need to contact the Alliance,” she said. “Not me. They have sufficient reason to act. They’ve suffered substantial losses in fighting Sovereign.”

“Yes. And the Alliance hasn’t been the same since then. Even if they did listen, they’re still rebuilding. They are still stretched out too thin to waste resources and credits in verifying the Reaper threat. It’s easier for them to blame the abductions on mercs and pirates.”

Goddammit. Shepard inwardly gritted her teeth. Here was a powerful man, who spent billions of credits to bring her back, when he had the strength to help the push to save the colonies. 

“You could have used the fortune on an army instead of just me,” Shepard said. “You could have trained and made a battalion worth of a thousand soldiers from all that money you spent to bring me back. Say what you want, but I’m only one person. I’m only me.”

The Illusive Man laughed.

Shepard watched as he tapped the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray, raising it to his lips to take another drag. 

“Ah, Shepard,” he said after a sigh. “You always were a humble person.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You downplay your impact. You are unique. And I’m not just saying because of all the times to beat the odds with two fists and a knife. Like I said, you are not a common soldier. You are a symbol of hope. You represented all of humanity in a crucial moment for the fate of the galaxy. To have you join this fight is a beacon of hope against the Reaper threat. A threat that Cerberus takes seriously.”

And he was right. Not on her being unique. But the fact of the Reaper threat.

“I may not like what you do, or your agenda, but…If you are after the Reapers, I’ll help with this mission.”

“Very well. I have a shuttle ready to take you  to Freedom’s Progress, the most recent colony to be attacked. Miranda and Jacob will brief you. I brought you back, Shepard. It’s up to you to do the rest.” 

The transmission turned off and left Shepard in a silent room.

To her growing dismay, Shepard still couldn't frown too much. 

Her facial scars still hurt.

Chapter Text

The day Shepard was said to arrive came two weeks earlier than expected. An attack on the medical facility she was at sent her and the limited Cerberus staff to leave to the main facility where he was headed to now. She was alive, of course. A bunch of mechs can't kill Commander Shepard.

Excitement mixed with some nervousness he didn't know was there.

He drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee as the shuttle pilot continued navigating the course set for the Cerberus outpost that originally had not been the planned location for seeing Shepard awake. It was planned for it to be in three weeks, but of course nothing goes as planned.  

Of course things had to backfire last minute and there had to be a hasty escape with a lot of bullets and new biotic waves. He had seen pictures of the damage from the post-incident report.

One conversation he remembered being back on the SR-1 was unfortunate jinxing. Shepard had made peace or “involuntary acceptance,” as she had worded it to Joker, that life would only get harder after Saren, and oh, was she right. 

Grief for someone you had known your whole life to be suddenly yanked away. He grieved. He wept. He missed her. She was always in the back of his mind. She would have wanted him to continue living, to enjoy life. So he did. He tried. 

A year and a half after the attack, Miranda brought him in and said that Commander Shepard was in the process of being revived.

So there he was now. 

Ten minutes from seeing her alive again.

He thought ahead as to how she would be when she woke up. The attack was two years ago for him: a not so distant, yet not so constant memory that only kept him up for some nights. Only some.

But for her, it was only a while back.

He planned on walking in, no interruptions, and going right up to her. 

When Joker found Miranda, she had a stack of holo pads next to her on the table that she looked over as she sat typing into a laptop.

He didn't bother saying hello. She wouldn't care anyway.

Just as Joker was going to ask, Miranda cut in. “Shepard is speaking with the Illusive Man,” she didn’t bother to look up at him as she continued typing. 

"I need to see her right now."

"Did you not hear me?" Miranda asked as she continued to type.

"Oh, I heard you," Joker said. "I need to see her right now."

The petty part of him would have repeated Miranda’s name over and over until she got annoyed and gave in. It was how he bugged Gunny for her to pay attention to him. It was how it worked.  Annoy the shit out of someone and they're bound to react someway or another.

But rather than having Miranda look down on him even more than she already did, he went with the silent treatment. He stood, unmoving from his place for a good few moments until Miranda gave in.

"Fine," Miranda stood up and led the way to the same meeting room that Joker was always escorted to for the handful of times he had to interact with the Illusive Man. "Seeing that you won't give up, I'd rather not deal with your shit today. I have, frankly, had enough of nothing going to plan and everything going right up and sideways, so I’m not dealing with your shit today. Just stay quiet until he finishes talking with her.” 

It was only when Miranda typed in the code and let Joker quietly enter the room that it hit him how real this was.

And there she was. 

Awake. Alive. So close yet so far.

Shepard stood in casual Cerberus uniform, similar to the one Joker was wearing himself. Her curly hair was long, past the Alliance permitted hair length. All in her tougher than nails glory.

Her arms were crossed, and everything of her radiated the Shepard attitude the Council complained so much about. Her stance, her tone, her presence. She was there. She was alive. 

And she was pissed. 

"I have a set of dossiers of team members for you to recruit. They will be plenty resourceful to the mission," the Illusive Man said.

Shepard shook her head. "Not needed," she said. Joker could hear the unspoken ‘fuck your list’ in the air. "I want my squad that helped me stop Saren."

Shepard didn't like to be told what to do when it was her team in question. She wasn't afraid or intimidated by the Illusive Man.

Cerberus should know that Shepard was more than a handful.

This was the woman who called the most powerful council in space multiple times just to hang up on them. The woman who, according to Kaidan and Garrus and archived helmet cam footage, punched Saren to death for the final blows of the fight. Shepard was - and is - one of a kind.

"Again, that was two years ago, Shepard," the Illusive Man responded, not showing any reaction to Joker being there as the door softly hissed shut behind him. "Most of them have moved on to different allegiances."

Shepard wasn't budging. “That’s not good enough. I did you a favor by investigating the colony. And in return, you promised me answers to my questions,” she said. “ Clear answers, not excuses for cryptic bullshit.”

She had the advantage of the fact that, well, she was her. She was Commander Shepard. She could easily go rogue from Cerberus the moment she chose to. But even now, he knew she wouldn’t, not when so much was at stake.

“So who lived? Who died? Give me logs, death certificates, anything,” Shepard demanded. “I want to know if the squad and crew of the Normandy survived.”

Joker leaned against the wall as he watched her demand answers from the Illusive Man. Even through a hologram, she wasn’t letting him budge. Part of it was that Shepard's attitude was something Udina always complained about. 

“And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Nope, it wasn’t part of it. All of it.

Some statuses of the former squad, he already knew: Kaidan hadn’t spoken to him since the funeral, Ashley had cursed him out at the trial and He didn't talk to Liara much afterward, the Asari archeologist quietly drifting away to do her thing. Wrex went to Tuchanka and he hadn’t heard much ever since. As was the same for Garrus. Kaidan was off doing Alliance Business in an unknown quadrant of the grand expanse of the Milky Way, but Joker wouldn't know since, well, he was grounded.

He was glad Tali was okay. He always liked Tali.

“Shepard,” the Illusive Man set his cigarette down. “I’m not holding anything over you. These are the clear answers you asked for.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

“There has to be a little bit of trust for this to work out,” the Illusive Man 

Joker almost laughed out loud at the perplexed look of absolute disgust that crossed Shepard’s face. 

“ Trust ?” Shepard snarled. “You want me to trust you?” 

“Now hold on,” the Illusive Man’s tone didn’t change. He was patient, collected. “You don’t have to like Cerberus. You don’t even have to like me. But you need to work on this mission. With us. We both know that these attacks against humanity are only going to get worse. Shepard, I am not the villain here. I’m not giving you orders, telling you what to do. I'm merely giving you direction . How you go about it is up to you. You have more experience at being Commander Shepard than any of us ever will.”

“Fine,” Shepard said, tone still aggravated. Untrusting. Like she would only accept a handshake on the condition of pointing a knife at him with her spare hand. “I’ll work with you.”

“Now that we are on the same page, here are two things. First, head to Omega and speak with Mordin Solus. He's a brilliant scientist and will definitely be of aid to our cause."

Shepard sighed. "Fine," she replied. "What's the second thing?"

"To accomplish this mission, you're going to need a ship. We already have that covered. And you're going to need a pilot.”

“There’s only one I will fly with,” Shepard said. 

“We have one that fits the criteria. I think you might like him. He's one of the best in the galaxy, or so he presumes. In fact," the Illusive Man reached out a panel next to him and began cutting the transmission. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" he vaguely gestured then hung up.

The lights turned back on in the room. Light poured in from the doorway behind Shepard and she turned around.

New scars were scattered across her face, rather than the old ones he was so familiar with. But she was alive.

Alive.

For the lack of better words, he smiled and asked “So should I be jealous of this one pilot you mentioned?"

Shepard was speechless. She stood still, frozen in place.

"Oh my god," Shepard ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Almost like she was just as afraid as he was that if he let her go, she would disappear again. “You're alive,” Shepard said softly. “Oh my god, you're alive.”

He knew the attack would be fresh on her mind. Two years ago for him, less than a few hours for her.

But knowing was one thing and feeling her in his arms was another.

So he hugged her closer, almost so impossibly close, and he just...existed. He felt his existence, her existence again, rather than a memory. Her chest shook with sobs that he knew she tried to subside. Her old scars were gone and replaced with new ones. Oh, how he missed her. He missed her so much.

“Yeah honey, I'm right here,” Joker murmured.

It felt too good to be true when he first heard the news about what Cerberus was doing. It still did. Sometimes, he feared he'd wake up only to see that Shepard was dead and all of this was a lie.

But it wasn't a lie.

Because there she was. No longer just in his thoughts and memories, but also in his arms. Her heart is alive and beating. Her face is his neck, his hand in her hair. Not letting go of him.

Waiting for this moment?

So goddamn worth it.  

Chapter Text

He should be happy. He should be rejoicing. But of course, count on him to self-sabotage himself and get stuck in his own head again.

Posttraumatic stress disorder, the therapist had called it. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the recurring thoughts. His anger. His headaches. Even before the lawsuit, the Alliance did find reason to ground him for it. PTSD, they had diagnosed. The four letter acronym that was hole punched in his permanent record.

As a rule, Joker tried to not think about his past. Never about the past. The past, even in its brighter moments, was always painful. Like every good moment had a countdown to the evitable of when his life changed for the worst. 

So, sometimes he got nightmares about the attack. So he may have developed a case of insomnia he hasn't quite fixed yet. It was why he still drank the third cup of shitty coffee that Cerberus had, even after the decent two he had for breakfast.

So he grieved.

Sue him.

Hannah Shepard did, literally. There was lawsuit, an outcry, so much anger. Threats to his life. Threats to his dad. Threats to his sister. There were messages of condolence from his flight school classmates and friends. Understanding. Solidarity. Anger. Threats. 

There was the suit and the slap. A literal one,  just outside the courthouse steps, from Hannah Shepard. It was too fast, too sudden, painful and understanding all the same. He didn't even argue back at her, didn't even defend himself. He couldn't. Gunny had seen it, had been the one holding back tears from the altercation. His father, good ol' Jem who served alongside Hannah in back in the day, had seen it too. Had been the one holding Joker back. 

To think that his girlfriend's mother would be slapping him on the courthouse steps in the lawsuit against him for her daughter's wrongful death. Man. He couldn't make this shit up if he tried. 

At least Hannah dropped the lawsuit.

Anderson had talked to her. Sometimes, he forgot that he was Margaret's godfather. She'd always called him Davy growing up. Mister Davy from the Navy. 

He didn't make the connection that is was David Anderson until he had seen her middle school picture in his office, with Margaret's smile, neon colored butterfly barrettes in her two braids that she wore all the time before she lost them. And holy shit, had that been a whiplash of a morning. ("You're kidding me. You're Davy from the Navy?" "As Margaret likes to call me, yes." "Then what would make me, sir? Jeffrey from the Bentley?" "No. A Joker Akin to Mediocre.")

Hell, Anderson took it hard.

He wondered if he had anything to do with the lawsuit disappearing too.

Shepard walked with him in the hallways, arm around his waist and head on his shoulder. Her grip was tight still, against his shirt. She smelled like shampoo. Count on Margaret to have time to do her post mission shower and still pencil in time to yell at the Illusive Man. God, did he miss her so much.

"So, what's new?" he asked, for the lack of a better conversation starter.

“Haven't you heard? Me! I'm new! Apparently! You read the report, I'm assuming."

"I did. Day one and you're getting shot at already."

"This is all so--ridiculous. I come back from the dead only to have another old bastard telling me how to handle my currently not even existing squad. Can you believe the Illusive Fuck told me how I should recruit my team?”

Yep. From the dead. She died.

"I heard that part of the conversation. You were two seconds away from telling him to shove the dossiers up his ass."

Shepard scoffed. "Hah. I regret not saying that. Should have," she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “It would have served him  right.”

“Technically, he can't fire you just yet.”

“Then I’ll save it for the exit interview."

He found a bench to sit down on, somewhere near a mess hall. Was it a mess hall? He didn't know. He shouldn't care anyway. Shepard was right fucking here. But...if he had any idea of the questions she had to ask him, he wanted her to sit down for this.

"I can't help but feel that the Illusive Man lied. About the team. So please, please. Jeff, tell me the truth. What happened?"

Oh.

Well shit.

"Well...I don't even know where to start."

"I guess at the hard part. Who did we lose?"

You. I lost you. You died, our friends died, our ship died, and I fell apart.

Joker exhaled. He looked at his knees, then at her hands. Was it selfish to hold her hand for this?

Even though the hauntings of the attack were damn near weekly, the disaster itself was two years ago. But for Shepard? Probably less than three days.

"No easy way to say it. We lost twenty. Including Pressly. The squad survived. Alliance came to our rescues not too long after the crash."

Not long after he had heard her last word. Jeff. Jeff. His name, yet another four letter curse. He was cursed. He killed her. It was his fault, your fault--

He had to stop.

"Oh...honey, I'm sorry. I...I still don't understand what happened. How did--how did you end up here? With Cerberus?"

"After the attack, the Alliance grounded me and said I wasn't fit to fly again."

"What?!"

"There was the broken leg, of course. Not sure if anyone has told you this before but you are tremendously strong in flinging people into escape pods."

"Oh my god. I--I am so sorry. Jeff, honey, I am so sorry."

Shit. Good one, you fucking asshole. Good one.

"Wait--I'm not mad," Joker said quickly. He reached to hold her hands. Goddamn it, he could feel her pulse hammering even through her palm. "Maggie, I'm not mad. I should have rephrased that better. But that was the worst of the injuries."

"Injuries? Plural?"

Motherfucking shit shit. He just kept fucking up, didn't he?

The broken ribs, the internal bruising, the close call from almost hitting his head in the hospital. The ribs that almost punctured a lung. The broken spirit and the broken heart and broken bones. And the liver treatment in Tiptree he had to get from almost fucking drinking himself to death once. Once! 

But it was enough to have him be moved from his apartment to the farm again.

"Some ribs got bruised--don't worry, I'm fine now,” Joker continued. “I stayed in the Citadel for a bit."---And got more threats to my apartment address. --"And then I left to go home with my family in Tiptree. Helped around the Moreau family farm, grew an orchard and all. Ate a shitton of apples. Then, about half a year ago, Cerberus offered me a chance to fly again and to be with you. So hell yeah I joined Cerberus. As for everyone else that survived, we all went our own separate ways.”

“I think I already know the answer to this but...does my family know I’m alive?”

Hannah 'Tough as Nails' Shepard. Hannah next door. The tears in her eyes, the crack in her voice, the speed of the slap that stung red against his face. ("You killed my daughter, you son of a bitch. How could you?!'")

Joker shook his head. “One major condition I had to meet in order to be here was to be sworn to secrecy. Including not telling your family. It'll be kind of impossible now, that you're awake but...not my call.”

“Sorry. I...don't like to talk about it.. It wasn't a good time."

Shit yeah it fucking wasn't. 

"Right," Shepard winced. "Right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine. You're here now, so," Joker smiled. "It's gonna get better. Come on. I gotta show you something."

In the hangar parked was the Normandy.

Well, a copy of it. Instead of the Alliance logo, it was Cerberus. Subtle yet present enough to be recognized. But it still sported the stripes, the colors, the design of the old Normandy. It should have felt like home, but it didn’t.

But as tradition would have it, Joker got into the ship and took it for a quick joyride around the facility and god. It flew smoother than ever. The speed was tremendously faster than the old ship, surpassing the limits without the engine overheating. The windows were open, the cockpit no longer feeling as closed off. New safety improvements. But it was home. It felt like home.

He tried his best to not have the memories ruin the exhilirating experience of being back in the pilot's seat. To be flying again. To be fucking alive again. 

It was an adjustment. It all was. He didn't have PTSD.

And well, if it took him twenty minutes too longer in the bay to get his breathing together, then. Well.

That was between him and himself and no one else.

Chapter Text

Margaret Shepard's first night in the Normandy SR-2 was in her own quarters, with her own bed that was soft and the mattress was definitely memory foam. Joker was on his way back from his shift. 

Yes, he would stay with her. That was given as it was.

But like the first night, Shepard was still sleepless. But instead of Rosemund's bunk above her head, it was her staring above the purple hue of the skylight in her room on the SR-2. But her stomach still felt the same knots, the same nerves, the same everything since she came back from the dead again.

The fish tank glowed blue and Kelly Chambers offered to have it dimmed. Shepard refused. To have the dimmed tank, to have the room be dark again against the window of stars...no. No.

There was something that she used to enjoy about darkness, something about how she felt most comfort at night than by day, but now? The thought of it was incomprehensible to even have.

As did the thought of total brightness too.

What a weird, unhappy, resurrected middle to be in. 

She was lost in her thoughts when the door hissed open to Joker coming in.

"Shit. Were you asleep?"

"No, I'm still awake,"

"In bed? It's a little early for you."

"I'm tired. Well, a little wired, because I'm fresh out the box, but...I'm tired."

"Everything's..."

"Happening."

"Yeah."

“It still kills me that I don’t know where everybody else is.”

“Hey, you've found me and Tali already. You’ll find the rest in no-time,” Joker smiled. "It's gonna be alright."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to shower and come to bed afterwards."

"Wait, shower? What about your change of clothes?"

"What about my change of clothes?" Joker teased. He kissed her with a light peck. "I'm kidding. I left them on your desk chair."

But even then, even with Joker asleep next to her.

Her stomach felt like knots. And if she closed her eyes against the pillow, against her nose, it would feel harder to breathe. But if she looked up to the skylight and woke to it with the room in darkness, she would forget to breathe. Any scenario felt terrible. Every scenario just worsened.

Stop, stop, stop. You're fine. 

What was the old method she used to do again? Count by the twos, the threes, the fours. Tap against the wall when she checked every room before setting out, so the house did not explode from a faulty gas tank that hissed at her dad once. 

Maybe if she counted again, the Normandy SR-2 wouldn't crash again. Maybe if--

She had to stop. 

She couldn't bite her tongue like she used to, nor dig her nails into her palms. The nail digging was painful. She remembered when Anderson had noticed it in the visit to the Citadel. She must have been what? Almost twenty five?

Twenty five and terrified of people. What if there was an attack? What if the car stopped working in the middle of the sky? Irrational, stupid shit, that even now, felt more stupid. She remembered choking up, crying, going to the guest room in his apartment. The guest room upstairs that was her room, anyways. He had a downstairs room because of the proximity to everything. Shepard just said because he wanted to get a midnight snack and he could just have a mini-fridge. 

He did finally get one, in the SR-1. For her room. It was a parting gift that he had left for her, along with the ship. And as much as she loved the Normandy, damn. If that mini fridge did not make her cry.

...What the fuck. Why was she remembering this now?

Why?

Why? Was she glitching? What the fuck?

Next to her, Joker shifted. Right.

She was in bed. Alive again, but in bed. But Jeff was alright.

So something must have worked out. Maybe.

Somewhere.

With a shaky hand that she blamed on poor posture, she pulled the blanket over her again and scooted closer to Joker, her back to his chest. She reached for his hand and held it. 

She tried not to count from thirds again until she fell asleep.

The next day after an unrestful rest, that she somehow managed to rest a few hours before her alarm, Margaret Shepard found herself in Omega, in yet another mercenary gang war. 

Looking back, she was glad she didn’t get the helmet that was on the gear table. Maybe it was instinctive, maybe it was something from the attack, but she felt that strange thing again. Copper on her tongue, face numb for a brief half second. 

It was gone as fast as it came. 

So she picked up the one eyed visor instead. And she blamed the shaky hands on the upgraded semi-biotic implants that were still new. She did not add more scars to her face, thankfully, as she took her chances to use a tactical one eyed visor than her helmet.

Anything but the helmet. Anything but that.

But she did get one big surprise. Because Archangel was Garrus this entire time. 

.

.

.

.

HOLY SHIT. 

That was her friend, her comrade, her soulmate if anything. Garrus! Garrus! It was him! 

“Garrus! Hey!” Shepard exclaimed, arms open for a hug. 

But the reaction did not gauge what she was expecting.

“Shepard?!” Garrus gaped. “I---What the fuck?!”

Oh boy. 

“So.. How's it going?” 

“I thought you were dead!”

Which was almost verbatim by Tali's own reaction.

Well, I'm getting that a lot.

“Yeah, so. See, I was dead. Briefly,” Shepard let out a laugh. “It is a little more complicated than that. But--Well, I'm back now! How cool is that?”

Silence filled the room.

She let her arms drop. “I...I have a lot of explaining to do,” she wrung her hands a bit. 

Garrus huffed out a breath and tucked his rifle back into his holster. “Yeah, no shit,” he said. 

“I'm sorry,” Shepard approached Garrus. “I’m really sorry, I don't know how to react to suddenly being alive either. But it can wait.”

“You’re back from the dead and you’re asking me if it can wait? And now you’re with Cerberus? Are you high?"

Miranda scoffed, the act so small yet somehow added more fuel to the fire.

“So, Cerberus,” Garrus shook his head. “I will definitely not be getting any answers.”

“Trust me, I’ll give you all the answers I possibly can,” Shepard reassured. She heard gunshots ring out behind her. “I’ll do that after we get out of a mercenary gang war. You have my word.” 

Garrus sighed. “Fine,”  But he loaded up his sniper rifle and got into position. “I’ll take your word for it.”

And of course. 

Nothing went to plan.

Shepard had only received a few bumps and scratches from the mission to retrieve Archangel--or Garrus. Her wounds were so minor that she patched herself up with the first aid kit on the ride back. 

It was Garrus this whole time. 

She had re-read the dossiers so many times, trying to connect the dots on what they all meant. Archangel was the only one without a proper name - she had not sought out Solus or Massani yet. Was the old squad hiding under new names again? Was it something they all agreed on to do?

That would be funny, if Liara was now somehow posing as a Salarian scientist. 

Garrus got the worst of it and was whisked off to the med bay upon being picked up by Joker, who was not happy about bringing the Normandy in the midst of a mercenary gang war. 

He had questions-- “What the shit?! Is that GARRUS?!” --and Shepard promised answers, like she did to Garrus before everything went sideways. Everyone had questions for her. But not about her. 

Everyone asks "Who is Margaret Shepard?" But never "How is Margaret Shepard?"

She paced around the chamber inside the Normandy as the connection stabilized to where ever the fuck the Illusive Bitch was located. Oh, she had a bone to pick after this. She had plenty of bones to pick. The dossier was Garrus. The son of a bitch knew where Garrus was the whole time and she went out to get him and he almost died.   

Shepard was still feeling left in the dark more than before. 

The hologram was loading, which was laughable of itself. So advanced in technology, multi-million credit universal net worth, soooo superior in every way possible, and now Cerberus was having Ether Extranet Connectivity Problems. God. Fucking hilarious. She hates this so much.

Finally, the projection loaded. 

“Shepard! There you are.”

“Illusive Man, I have a lot of questions.”

A lot was an understatement. 

Shepard watched as he tapped the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray, raising it to his lips to take another drag.

“And what would those be?”

“ You said you didn’t know where my crew was after the crash. Yet the first dossier on my desk happens to be one of my old teammates,” Shepard crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me that Archangel was Garrus?”

“The Archangel’s entire point was a mystery. I was as surprised as you were.”

“Cut the shit, Illusive Man! What happened to the rest of the surviving crew of the Normandy?!”

“Oh Shepard,” he said after a laugh. “You’re lively.”

And you’re an asshole!

“And you’re cryptic!”

“I was truly as surprised as you where.”

“I thought Cerberus knew everything.”

“Not quite there yet, Shepard. But I appreciate you think of us so highly that way.”

“Don’t twist it that way, wise guy! You owe me answers!”

“And you owe me dossiers.” 

With that the Illusive Man dismissed her.

Shepard paced.

She paced a lot before Saren, just rounds and rounds of walking around in her room until she got tired. She would lay down. Stare at the ceiling...only to start it up again.

 Then she kept herself busy with cleaning her weapons. 

She was frustrated, to say the least.

Her Katana shotgun sat on the table of the armory, next in line of being wiped down. The gun itself was white with a deep red stripe, inverted colors of the red and white scheme that her armor had. Not so subtle. 

Then again, she was Commander Shepard. The Shepard. Nothing about her was subtle. 

Her guns lacked the small dents from dozens of battles, or her initials etched in the back of the handle. Same with her pistol that had been at her side since the Blitz, but it must have gotten lost in the Normandy attack.

She looked down to her scarless arm and thought back to how her facial scar across her lip was gone. She lacked her own scars too. 

She was just a new gun.

The door hissed open to Jacob.

“Hey!”

“Hey! Thought I would find you here. What are you up to?”

“Just working. I wrapped up my debrief with the Illusive Man,” Shepard said. She paused. “It feels weird calling him that.”

“Yeah. You get used to calling him that. So, I do have a question; what’s your weapon of choice?” 

“Gotta say, the classic pistol has never let me down,” Shepard said as a conversation starter. “These are Alliance weapons?”

“Partly. Cerberus has private contractors for weapons supplies. I can order a newer model for you,” Jacob suggested. “Or some mods.”

“This one works just fine,” Shepard tested the weight. "Not as good as the Silencer."

“So, you name your guns.”

“My pistol is---was---called the Silencer, my assault rifle was Bold Move and my sniper was called Winter, since the first mission I used was in Noveria. The original Silencer...she was with me in the Blitz. Not so good in close range, but I have a pistol and biotics for that. Each one has charm, but I only keep them in the armory. I never carry a gun on me outside of missions. So, what do you feel comfortable with me calling you off mission? Operative, Jacob, Taylor…?”

“Jacob works just fine, Commander.”

“You can call me Shepard, by the way. Not even my mother calls me Margaret.”

“Ah, Captain Hannah Shepard. Heard she’s the best.”

Good at being a captain. Yeah.

God, Shepard still needed to talk to Miranda about this secrecy thing. Shit. Shit!

“She’s tough, alright,” Shepard cleared her throat. “But enough about me. So, tell me about yourself, Jacob.”

“Everything about me is in my file, Commander.”

Shepard waved the title away. “We just went over this. You’re my squadmate, and Shepard works just fine.”

Jacob held up both his hands with a laugh. “Sorry! It’s just a habit. I used to be an ex-Alliance, like you.”

Ex-Alliance. It felt so weird hearing it out loud, like the allegiance to the Navy was yesterday. 

Oh right. 

It was two years ago.

In her heart, Shepard knew that her loyalty was still to the Alliance. But she knew what the Alliance and the rest of the galaxy knew to their knowledge; she was dead. 

“And you know how it is,” Jacob said, but before he could continue, the doors opened. “And there he is! Tough son of a bitch.”

Shepard turned to see Garrus, tall, gorgeous, amazing and still walking stiffly as ever. But this was granted, though, given that he sustained most of the injuries during the fight. But Shepard still recognized the slight-barely there-wobble in his left foot. From stepping wrong on the rail cart in Noveria. Survived all the rachni, all the attacks, but who would win against Garrus' ankle that he was too much of a stubborn dumbass to admit that he was hurt; one angry rachni or one stair step down to pain town?

Yeah. Shepard remembered that.

She remembered the saying that Karin had said to them both when she treated Garrus for the same foot a few weeks later; "It was always the old ones that managed to hurt a little longer."

“No one will give me a mirror,” Garrus gestured to his head, bandaged slightly stained with blood. “Shepard, be honest. How bad?”

Well, it was a big scar.

“Hell, Garrus. You were always ugly! Just slap some face paint on there and no one will notice a damn thing.” What sold it was Shepard’s grin. 

Jacob blinked at the remark, unaware of the familiarity of banter between Garrus and Shepard that the remark didn’t mean any offense at all.

Garrus choked out a laugh, cut short by a small groan of pain. “Hah-aaaaaah! Oww. Don’t make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely together as it is.”

“You look the same!”

Garrus tried to suppress his laugh. "What did I just say, Shepard? Ow!"

“And this is where I take my leave. Shepard,” Jacob saluted them both. To which Shepard and Garrus waved goodbye to.

Garrus waited for the doors to close behind the Cerberus Operative to continue the conversation.

“Jacob is nice,” he commented offhandedly.

“Oh absolutely,” Shepard said. "Way nicer than Miranda."

“Miranda is still going to be nicer than you...Be honest, Shepard. How bad?”

“....There’s a scar. Pretty huge scar, but it’s not that bad. Kinda badass. Very hot,” Shepard winked.

“Well, I figured,” Garrus said sheepishly. “...It’s not too bad, I guess. I could be dead. And some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan, so,” he shifted. “And honestly, most of the women went to you anyways!”

"You're goddamned right they did!" 

“But frankly, I’m more worried about you. Cerberus , Shepard?”

Annnnd there it was. 

“ Cerberus ? Don’t you remember those sick experiments they were doing?”

“I do,” Shepard sighed. Garrus and Ashley had been with her on that particular mission that time.

“I'd say it's a miracle to have you here alive but it's technically a morally questionable scientific breakthrough.”

“If it helps, I didn't have a say in this,” Shepard said. She put her guns away into the armory locker. She hated talking about this as it was. Whatever the hell it was to suddenly die, then be alive again. 

“How are you dealing with…” Garrus gestured to the glowing scars on her face. “Your...situation.”

Being alive? Being resurrected? Being synthetic? Kind of? Being undead? Being used? Being trapped? 

“Being alive?” Shepard suggested. “I don’t know.” 

She still could not wrap her head around the whole thing. She died, then was brought back to life. No memories were missing. She remembered everything like it had been yesterday. 

"What's the last thing you remembered?"

Screaming. Trying to scream, but nothing coming out. Trying to make sure Jeff lived. That you all lived. Vision going black...air ways being blocked. Dying. Dying. Cold. So much space and dying in my own helmet.

“I blacked out and then I woke up to a bright light,” Shepard said. “That’s all I really remember.”

“Jacob was telling me that you woke up earlier than anticipated.”

“Yeah. Shit kind of went sideways while I was asleep. Or dead? I don’t know.” 

Shepard could not meet Garrus’ gaze. But she let herself let her guard down for a few moments. Garrus is still Garrus. That was still her best friend. 

Even if time passed, she still felt trust.

“It’s so--weird,” Shepard said. “Y’know? Everything is different. I’m stronger than I was before, the ship is much bigger. Hallways are different. The fucking elevator runs faster. Hell, I even have my own shower that’s not the size of a box,” Shepard let the small purple hue of biotic waves weave in between her fingers before letting it go away. “Everything is different yet...not. We’re not even scratching the surface on finding just what the hell attacked the SR-1. What we saw in the colony with Tali was something different. It’s an uneasy feeling.”

“Uneasy as in ‘we’re technically going rogue by siding with a shady organization’ type of uneasiness or side effects of getting resurrected?”

“You could say both.”

"Well, what do you say? Do you want to help with this?"

"Shepard, do you even have to ask? Of course. I'll follow you into hell again. Especially now."

"What happen to going back to C-Sec?"

"Oh, C-Sec went to shit after the boss got fired for laundering funds to the pirates."

And somehow, even more things to catch up on.

"You're kidding me!"

Chapter Text

EDI wasn’t the heart of the Normandy, no matter how she called herself that.

So maybe Joker put a little bit of grease on the cameras just to get the AI riled up a bit. All Miranda could do was probably lecture him. Or send him a passive aggressive email. Wasn’t like the Illusive Man could fire him: who else would he get for this job?

No Joker without the Normandy, no Normandy without Joker.

But even through the worst of it, even through the new-ness of it. The best part above all? The elevator was faster. 

It made going rogue completely worth it.

“Commander at the helm,” EDI announced. 

“At ease,” Shepard said. 

So Shepard was back.

He hit the small button that spun the chair (again, another upgrade the old ship didn’t have) to face Shepard.

A few bruises lined her jaw, as did a few new butterfly bandages above her eyebrows. She lacked any bruises on her neck and arms, a good feat. She insisted on using her one sided visor rather than a helmet for this mission. Less safer, but more coordinated. 

“So,” Joker started. “Hear me out Commander, I got a suggestion you might be interested in.”

“And what could it possibly be, Helmsman?”

“So you know I’m a man of practicality,” Joker continued, seeing the knowing small smile on Shepard’s face.

Any phrase that started with the words ‘so you know’ were bound to end in the most ridiculous statement possible. It had become a game between them since she first set foot on the SR-1.  

“I’m well aware,” Shepard continued to play along and nodded.

“Anything to make the mission run smoother. And I figured out a way for us to expand our chances of survival. Just some food for the thought. Would you like to hear it?”

“Of course.”

“For future reference, how about we try NOT to drop the Normandy into the middle of a mercenary gang war?!” 

Shepard burst out laughing, professional demeanor breaking.

“I’m making a serious suggestion,” Joker stated. “And you’re laughing. I’m suggesting a valid concern and you’re laughing.”  

“I am. How ridiculous! You’re gonna miss out on all the fun?! Come on Jeff, live a little!” she exclaimed.

“I’m trying to but your tendency to get wrapped up in mercenary plots lowers my life expectancy by at least three percent per mission.”

“Fine,” Shepard crossed her arms in feign indignancy. “I'll make sure to catch a Skycar next time. Meet up with another pilot.”

“Now, hold on,” Joker said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Shepard laughed and shook her head. But she was still tense.

“Hey EDI, do me a favor and go off record for a little bit?”

Why is she going off record? 

Wait, is she going to kiss me?

“Permission granted,” EDI said. 

And Shepard did not miss a beat. “Fuck the Illusive Man.”

Oh.

He guess not.

“Oh, this should be good.”

“What’s with this bullshit of not knowing where the old squad members went,” Shepard mimicked taking a drag of a cigarette, voice nowhere close to the punctuality of the Illusive Man. “He really said that ‘The Turian disappeared a few months after you were declared dead.’ Yet the one of the first dossiers on my desk just oh-so-happens to be Garrus, who the Illusive Bitch claimed he knew anything about,” she let her voice return to normal and frustratedly threw her hands in the air. “It’s bullshit!” 

“I take it that chatting with Tim didn’t go well?”

“Who the fuck is Tim?”

“T for The, I for Illusive, M for Man. The Illusive Man. T-I-M. Tim.”

“Oh,” Shepard blinked. “Well no, it didn’t go well, thanks for asking.”

“Maggie, look at the bright side: we got Garrus back!” Joker exclaimed, trying to cheer her up. “That's great, because he was totally my favorite…what with that pole up his ass. Except that now he’s using said pole to kill people with it. Which I guess could be considered an upgrade.”

“Don’t be too mean, guy almost got his face blown off.”

“He did? I couldn’t tell. He looks the exact same to me.”

“Jeff,” Shepard stifled a laugh. Then she let out a snicker. “God, we’re terrible friends.”

“Don't get mad because I speak the truth and only the truth. But hey! He's back! It’s a good thing! Not that he got the shit beaten out of him, but that he survived.”

“Impact should have killed him. A lot of things should have killed him actually,” she said, but noticeably relaxed her shoulders. “But he managed not to just give me a slight heart attack, though. It’s good to have another familiar face on board,” Shepard leaned against the doorway. “And...I highly doubt any of the old squad will be eager to join us. You know? This is Cerberus and, well, it’s Cerberus.”

“...Yeah.”

“I haven’t talked to Miranda yet about contacting my family,” Shepard said. “I tried snooping around Omega to see if I could hear anything about Kaidan and Ash, or even of Ellie.”

Shit. 

Ellie. Eliseo. Her stepbrother. He hadn’t told her about Eliseo yet. Well...how could he tell her that her stepbrother and Kaidan had a messy break up? 

Well...how could he even tell her that Ellie and Emmanuel, her stepbrother and stepdad, were the only family members of hers that were not as resentful as Hannah was after the lawsuit and Ellie had warned him to keep his distance for now...for the best. ("Just until the trial cools down, compa. This shit is rough... But I still see you as my friend.")

And how Joker never spoke to him again.

“Jeff?” 

“Sorry,” Joker said. “I wouldn’t know what to tell you about Ellie. Or Omega. Or of Miranda.”

“Right,” Shepard said. “Well. Yeah. Forget all that. I’m just doing my rounds. Your thoughts? Questions? Concerns? 

Not...so subtle of a subject change. 

“How are you and EDI getting along?” she asked again.

We’re not. 

Shepard was already stressed out as it was. No need to add more to it. He wished he could turn off her alarm that morning and just let her sleep. He wishes he could figure his shit out in how to talk to her about everything without knowing of how it was going to hurt her so much.

“Just fine!” Joker said brightly as he folded his hands behind his neck. “We were just having a small discussion over personalization in my workspace.” 

“Cerberus regulations are clear, Mr. Moreau,” EDI interjected. “Personalization does not include grease on my bridge cameras.”

Joker shrugged it off. “Edi is just mad that all of its footage of me looks like a dream sequence,” he said.

Shepard scoffed. “Or more like nightmare fuel,” she said. “Please try not to antagonize the AI that controls our oxygen recycling.”

“VI. And it’s not antagonizing,” Joker insisted.

“AI, VI, same thing. I don’t want to risk it. We don’t want another Luna incident.”

The Luna incident with the rogue AI was a topic that became a widely unexpectedly heated debate topic back in the old Normandy. 

Surprisingly, EDI stayed silent on the matter. Maybe because it was off the record.

Right. It was two years ago for Joker, less than two months for Shepard.

“The Luna incident is an outlier and should not be counted.”

“It was a pissed off VI and we shouldn’t piss off ours,” Shepard waved the topic away. “But personally, how does it feel, being back in the Normandy?”

“Aside from the Intrusive Intelligence, it’s great,” Joker said. “Hell, I should be asking you. First day of work and everyone is shooting at you.”

“Then again, it tends to happen when you’re dropped off in the middle of a mercenary gang war,” Shepard shrugged. “But I’m...fine. Still getting used to the upgraded super soldier strength. Cerberus wanted to keep this version of me as close to the original and trying to get killed is part of the Shepard package, so...expect getting wrapped up in some more murder plots.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Joker said. “What’s our next stop?”

“Still in Omega. Always a fun time. I’m gonna head back in to get a scientist named Mordin Solus and a mercenary named Zaeed Massani...Tomorrow. Once the gunfire smoke cools down.”

“A merc and a scientist. Are we going to get a trigger happy Krogan too? Complete the set?”

“Maybe. We’ll figure it out. Any concerns you would like to raise to my attention, you know where I am.”

“Just a ping away,” Joker smiled. “I'll see you later.”

She turned around and began leaving, before Joker held her wrist.

“Hey Mags,” he said. “You know I have your back. But I can’t be on the field to watch it. Just...try to be careful.”

Shepard grinned. That familiar, cocky grin that she got when a mission succeeded and there were no injuries or fatalities. 

She tossed a look behind her and saw that there was no one near the helm.

Carefully she knelt down next to his chair and pulled him in for a firm kiss. 

“When am I not?” she winked. “Carry on, Helmsman Moreau.”

“As you wish, Commander Shepard.”

Shepard let the smile drop the minute she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to her room rather than going to Miranda's office.

Yeah.

Joker was lying to her.

Chapter Text

Now, on the SR-2, Joker was facing the interface and doing his work. Sensors were cleared. No hostiles detected. They had gone to get fuel and returned to Omega. Even docked, he had to work.

Then EDI hovered awake and said nothing. Even though EDI had no eyes, it somehow just kept looking at him.

“Well?” Joker demanded. “What is it this time? Caps are suddenly not part of uniform? I’m slouching? I’m one degree off latitude for Miranda’s liking?”

“Nothing. Just an observation.”

“Of?”

“You and Commander Shepard.”

Oh. Shit.

“Before you say anything, I know Cerberus has no fraternization regulations,” Joker began. (He would know, it was the second thing he looked up in the manual.) “And what I have with her is my business, but for your information, it will not interfere with the mission.”

“Mr. Moreau, I don't record personal and private moments. I only record what is needed, when asked and when commanded to at my discretion.”

“So, if I were to hypothetically request you to remind me to check back with Garrus about weapons at 14:00…”

“I would do so.”

“But if Miranda or The Illusive Man were to ask you about me and Margaret…”

“I would not do so.”

“Right.”

“And truthfully, I believe Operative Lawson would not care. You seem to like Shepard a lot. She does like you too.”

“Yeah, it is like that,” he said simply. “That’s the obvious. And the observation?”

“I’m just surprised. I thought you were, as you said, unlikeable.”

“I still don't like you, but I am more...no, I still don't like you, but I'm a little relieved at that.”

“Good. I am glad to think so. Garrus Vakarian is approaching the helm and is due to arrive in ten seconds.”

“Shit, yeah. Unlock the doors.”

The doors unlocked and opened to reveal Garrus a few paces away from the entrance.

“Hey!” Joker spun the chair back to where he was. “Long time no see!”

“Hey to you too. I just finished the self-guided tour, and this is the last stop.”

“So, what do you think?”

Garrus remained silent as he looked around the cockpit. The faint beeps of the screens filled the air, along with the hum. “It feels...different,” he finally said. “I know this is a copy, but it feels different than the old one.”

“Yeah,” Joker said. “But with time, it will feel like home.”

“Home, with Cerberus.”

“Home with a snake in the garden that could poison us if it wanted to, but home nonetheless.”

Even now, the memories were there, sometimes vivid, sometimes gone. But sometimes, it was just the feeling. The feeling of being in a place that was about to blow.

“Joker, I need to apologize,” Garrus said. 

“Apologize for what?”

“For leaving after the attack. I disappeared, and I didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Oh. 

Garrus was there, at the beginning of it, when the tragedy was at its highest. When the funerals and services and hospitalizations were happening. Then a month later, he was gone, with no trace to contact him. But no one could blame him for leaving. Joker couldn’t.

“Hey man, don’t worry about it,” Joker said. “We were all going through a bad time. I get it.” And he said it with sincerity. 

He did get it. He disappeared too, after he was grounded. After he was demoted. Social disappearance, if anything, for the most fucked up three months of this life. But he had his extranet email deactivated after the death threats and changed to a new one altogether.

“I mean it,” Garrus said. “I know it was bad but then it got worse.”

“And I mean it too,” Joker said. He really did not want to get into it. It was already too painful. And surprisingly, he kept his voice from shaking. “No need for apologies. You’re here and that’s what matters.”

“I just don’t want you to blame yourself.”

Too late for that.

“I blame the Collectors for the attack,” Joker said bluntly. “Now that there’s more proof of how it wasn’t some ‘random’ geth that we skirmished with, I blame the Collectors. Even before this, I never thought it was something random, but now we have a name for it.”

“It’s strange how Cerberus, of all entities in the universe, got desperate enough to look for non-humans for help. The one thing I’m glad for is that Shepard was brought back.”

“Same here. It’s the only reason I signed on. I don’t trust Cerberus. And while I don’t like that it came to this...it’s the lesser evil than getting grounded by the Alliance and doing nothing. Hell, up until six months ago, I would have thought that it was these guys that sent a hit on us in the SR-1. But even then…”

“Why go through all the effort to revive someone you sent to kill?”

“Exactly,” Joker said. “Did you see the reports from Tali?”

“Yeah.”

“It looks like a covert op.” 

“Close to it. Communications cut off, everything going silent, then everyone disappearing with the Collectors attacking...It was a tactical ambush. Kind of the same approach when the Normandy was attacked,” Garrus leaned against the side of the doorway. “When I was with my crew, I tried to investigate what had happened to the Normandy.”

“What did you find out?”

“Nothing conclusive,” Garrus said. “Rumors, outlandish theories. Officially, the attack on the SR-1 was blamed on the geth, and everyone outside of Citadel space seemed to buy it or just not care about it. There was another strong lead about how it was a covert job by the Council’s Spectres, but that didn’t seem logical considering how much they gambled on giving humanity a seat with Anderson.”

“A Spectre killing another Spectre? Again?”

“Well, Saren did it with Nihlus, in a more extreme way. But…why would the Council send a hit on the same person that saved them? The public only knows of a few spectres, like Shepard, but there’s dozens, if not hundreds more, out in Citadel Space. Some active, some deep undercover. They’re ghosts and appear when they want to. Think about it; Asari can live for a long time. There could be an Asari Spectre who is only active once every ninety years, at the Council’s discretion. There was also the theory that it was an accident, which we know it wasn’t, theories of an assassination attempt from the Alliance to get rid of non-humans, which...I didn’t exactly doubt, but I didn’t buy it. Why sacrifice the most advanced ship in the galaxy for it? And the human crew with it?”

“You should have seen the brass and how they scrubbed their hands clean of everything,” Joker said. “I don’t think they ever liked having non-humans in the crew.”

He still remembered seeing the dirty looks from some brass Earth-assigned staff towards Tali when she danced with Shepard during the gala. How much he wanted to sucker punch the brass for it. Where the fuck were they during the battle?

If anything, they should have been thanking Tali, who was commandeering the engine floor with what outputs to concentrate on to the weapon and preparing it for the one shot that could make a difference for all of the galaxy. Adams let her have the floor, keeping contact with everyone and everything.

She was precise about the engine, even more precise about the shot and percentage of the engine to be put in the thrusters and into the cannon. He could hear her chatter as he navigated through the fleet, the increasing percentages of the energy being consumed, the loading of the weapon, the final seconds of gaining the speed needed. And then, Tali in his ear piece, the cannon ready, and her command that “Charges are ready! Fire at will!” and he nailed the shot perfectly. One hit. A victory. He effectively ended the battle for the Citadel in one shot.

Joker shot the bullet that killed Sovereign. And Tali successfully loaded the barrel and handed him the gun that did so.

Adams was so proud of her. 

“They never did. I had heard it was a terrorist attack by Cerberus for a while, but that didn’t make any sense, because if it’s pro-humanity, why would it want to kill the most important human alive? Especially now. Some said it was revenge from Balak, the pirate, for Shepard killing Haliat.”

He remembered the video feed of her chasing Haliat, the debrief report that she filed in the dead of night, her facing down the turian that caused the Blitz, how her communications went silent when she stepped into the mine. And how she stepped into the cockpit late, when the crew was mostly gone except for the night yeoman at the far end of the deck, far out of earshot. He had remembered seeing her stand in front of him, a little dazed and stoic, still in her armor. Before he asked what was wrong, she had simply said “I disarmed a nuke and killed the guy who caused the Blitz.” And proceeded to burst into tears.

He had held her then. He couldn’t offer any words, because what could he say? “I’m sorry that this galaxy doesn’t give you a break”, “I’m sorry you’re being forced to do clean up for the Alliance”, “I’m sorry about how you can’t sleep well because you’re getting dismissed as crazy for the Reaper threat”?  

But he did hold her tight and let her get it all out. It wasn’t the first night she had gone through it, and it wouldn’t be the last. Just as he saw her in her best moments, he saw the worst. And just like he swore to be there for her in whatever way he could, his resentment against the galaxy putting everything on her shoulders grew just a little bit more.

He thought it was over, like she had said that night, that this was a form of twisted closure for the Blitz. "No more mercernaries to track down, at least not ones connected to Elysium." That she was done with it.

Then two weeks later, Balak wanted to retaliate against her again, this time in an asteroid crashing down in Terra Nova in a fucked-up attempt to kill everyone.

“Balak could be back? You don't think…”

“Nothing concrete. While I don’t doubt that he’d be working with the Collectors, I haven't seen him. And I don't think he would not but...I was on that asteroid. He was angry. His grudge with Shepard was personal because of the Blitz. I haven't tracked down anything on his whereabouts or his pirates. Then again, I was, uh, too busy getting rid of assholes who were trying to kill me.”

Well big man, you got me there.

“But one thing I did find out is that a lot of people, and I mean a lot, of people want Shepard dead.”

There’s no surprise there.

“Yeah,” Joker grimaced. “And a lot of people wanted you dead too. Three merc groups going to war against you? Sheeeesh."

Garrus shrugged. “That’s just another firefight for me,” he said simply. “Another one that I won.”

“Speaking of...Over at Omega with the blast, I know you got the scar, but did it do any internal damage? No kicks to the head?”

“Miraculously, no. Somehow, I don’t know how, but somehow, the spirits were for once in my favor and hit the side that does not have my visor. My ears are safe.”

“That's good!”

Garrus had mentioned hearing loss being hereditary through his mother's side, but his left eye received internal retinal damage in a minor accident while in C-Sec. His visor was custom made to also protect his eye and his in-ear aid.

“Very,” Garrus said. “I already wear a protective ear-plug on my right side out in the field regardless, but Dr. Chakwas checked and I’m alright. The visor and my hearing aid would have been okay even if I got hit; the fire from the blast wasn’t hot enough to melt tungsten steel. Many thanks to Tungsten & Diamond for the war-proof ear plugs and the combat proof hearing aids. ‘T&D - The best of the best, the toughest of all'...I still got a mild concussion though...I should have worn my helmet. So far, I just need a week’s worth of bedrest until I’m cleared for the field. And a week is a very accelerated prognosis with the premium meds that Cerberus has. Premium. I didn’t even know there were intermediate, let alone premium meds for concussions.”

“Neither did I! One thing I have already caught on, even I’m probably on the need-to-know clearance level, Cerberus knows and has access to a lot of things. Like my shirt size.”

EDI popped up, “I scanned you the moment you met with the Illusive Man to accept his offer.”

“Thank you, EDI, totally not creepy of you to scan my body!”

“You’re welcome,” EDI said, then vanished.

Garrus laughed then he winced. “Ah - don’t make me laugh, damn it,” he said, though his voice was shaky. “Ugh, I went over this with Shepard already, my face hurts as it is!”

“Wait, you don't know? About how my new codename is Joker 2?”

Garrus shook his head. “That was somehow worse. Anyways, I’m going to take a look at those updates Miranda told me about and then I’m going to lay down for a bit. I'll see you later.”

“Good seeing you, big man.”

“You too, little man.”

Shepard went to her room.

The terminals had extranet access. Finally, a chance to breathe and figure out one mystery. In the privacy of her room, and EDI being silent for the most part other than greeting her, Shepard went to her terminal on the upper floor and pulled up a new tab. The messages were in her inbox, probably more briefing from Miranda, more passive aggressive notes from the Illusive Man. But she paid it no mind.

“EDI, you can go off the record for private browsing, right?”

“Yes. Everything that happens in your quarters is already private by default.

Good, Shepard thought for practical considerations, since she was looking herself up. Very, very, very good, Shepard thought, for un-practical non-professional considerations that would consist of different activities with a certain pilot.

A specific pilot that was lying to her about something incredibly heavy.

Great thought process, Margaret.

Was it even fair of her to ask him what happened?

There was so much she did not know about what happened and so much that Jeff hadn’t told her. He avoided the topic of the crash on the morning before they set off in the SR-2. Hell, he avoided talking about the two years other than making the comment that he’s now technically older than her by two years. Garrus said less, and she did not want to press more with him just recovering from everything.

There was an empty casket funeral and the memorial dedicated in her honor. There was coverage of the attack. She could see Emily Wong’s name on the byline in the most recent article talking about Shepard’s “outstanding legacy in the few years she had in service to the galaxy” on the anniversary of the attacks. There was a documentary. A few books. An unauthorized biography. Gross.

Legacy. She supposed she was part of one. She was a Shepard. Shepards were a league of their own when it came to their existence.

EDI didn’t comment on the choice of the browsing, nor the content.

The memorial had a holo dimensional compatible feature available.

“I need a projection pulled up. Dim the lights, please,” Shepard said.

The lights in the room began to dim, including the bright blue of her aquarium.

“Not - not the aquarium,” Shepard added quickly. “Those are fine.”

EDI said nothing. But obliged her anyway.

The projection in front of her pulled up a hologram, as vivid as the images on the screen itself. There was the makeshift memorial outside the Embassy all around her, like she were standing in the Presidium instead of the Normandy.

It was a garden. A row of orange dahlias, with tiny tea candles next to them. Violets, roses and daisies. Balloons were tied down by a bouquet, along with candles, teddy bears and model Normandy ships. Another smaller bouquet of daisies sat at the front.

She looked at the virtual view of the memorial, a three sixty rotative perspective provided for virtual attendees. It was a statue of the Normandy in the embassy gardens, along with flowers and tributes left for the members. So many flowers.

Something was constricting her throat. Something that could not allow her enough to breathe.

“EDI, exit the hologram. Turn the lights back on.”

“Affirmative. Are you alright, Shepard? I detected an accelerated heart rate.”

“I’m fine,” she said simply, though everything said otherwise. “That's all, EDI.”

EDI hesitated, for a brief second. “Logging you out, Shepard,” and went silent. 

Time passed. The dossiers on Omega were almost all fulfilled. Life went on.

Mordin was a great addition to the crew, along with Zaeed, who made his home in the lowest deck, with plenty fight stories to tell. He was gruff. Funny. He had an air of danger and respect to him, along with a free-spirit who just liked a cold beer after a long day. From the initial impression she had had of just speaking with him for thirty minutes, Mordin was intelligent. Incredibly intelligent. He spoke at seventy kilometers an hour, with the energy of being constantly caffeinated and ready to go. What a team the Illusive Man was having her pull together, but even then. The only one she trusted aboard was Garrus, Dr. Chakwas and Jeff.

They both reminded her of some of the team she served with for her off-grid courses for N5 and N6 training. Though it lacked action, in-depth geology, geography and space mapping may have been some of the best two years and best two birthdays of 26 and 27 that she had spent before returning to Earth, before undergoing her N7 training before she turned 28. It felt so recent, with her posting on the Normandy happening after her commendation and ceremony. 

There was always the fear, running under her skin like a tingling vein. Any moment could be the Blitz. Any moment they could be attacked. If she didn't check the perimeter, they would all die. Ig she didn't step on the steps right, they could all die. If she didn't make sure all the lights were off, they could run out of battery and die. Check, double check.

The most action on their station was the rock from the table now being a rock on the floor. A few random space animals had shown up to their camp site. Then there was the one time she got mildly poisoned with trying to pick a pretty flower for the lead botanist to study. Kicking rocks with Mikey and Daniel at the order of their XO to test the pressure while loudly complaining about being out of hazelnut creamer had felt like another day in the life. 

She ventured out on her own a lot in the rocky planet, under a violet hued sky and a gorgeous moon lined up on the horizon. There was that feeling. Verisimilitude. Where she just existed in space, just one speck on a rock in a big galaxy. 

The scientists were funny. The veterans along with her who had also seen too much had a rapport with her. There was a shared understanding between them all. Just them, their studies, a ship, some rocks and space. It was where she was just Maggie again, not just another Shepard. Where it felt like her own place. 

She made a place of her own on the old Normandy in the most stressful of ways. Some days, it was just the people that go her through it. Jeff. There was moments that felt a little normal, but she longed for that feeling again to just be 

Now, it could not feel any more different than it did now. She was out of the Alliance, just like she always wanted. But as a stranger to her own soul and her own body. Her own life.  

The crew was recruited. She bought every model ship on the market in Omega that she could get her hands on.

Finally, her interest could be indulged on. Yes, I will collect every ship in the Milky Way galaxy on the Cerberus' dime, thank you very much.

Shepard got on Aria's better side, somehow. The Illusive Man remained as elusive as ever, even with the chain of command and instructions being classified with EDI. Not even the Alliance was that secretive...well, to Shepard's knowledge anyways.

Though she would never trust any Cerberus bullshit that came her way...she could really do with a guide of telling her what to do now that she was alive. Instinct told her to run, but instinct also told her to keep going. She already spent more time awake than asleep, more time on her feet than on her back. 

Even now, the memories came back in spades, some as simple as being on her bed and sleepily pushing herself against the wall that wasn't in her room anymore. While feeling Jeff's arms around her was welcomed, with the amused ' Careful, you almost knocked me off the bed there, sweetheart'   mumble and the kiss on her bare back along with it, it was another reminder.

Things changed. A lot. 

But he didn't push her. She didn't either. Garrus said less. He was ready to kick ass in the field again, but Shepard preferred to have him rest.

But Garrus was stubborn. He insisted that he was fine, that he had sustained far worse injuries that scarred much less, but a concussion was a concussion. If there was one of the many terrible lessons she had learned on Eden Prime with the fucking beacon was that concussions sucked. And she had worn a helmet that time. 

To think that the Council had the audacity to use her concussion as a source for the beacon vision as a dismissal of the Reapers in the follow up meeting - it was humiliating. She had fumed in Anderson's office then. Then got dizzy. And had to sit down.

All she remembered then was the presidium being so bright. Like it was in the hologram.

She fucked up.

The memorial was ingrained into her brain. She shouldn't have looked herself up. She shouldn't have even opened the browser. Another part wanted to pry, wanted to know more. Tell me more, tell me more, the curiosity on loop.

Yet there was an odd feeling like she was being watched by EDI, though she was sure that EDI was harmless. And that everything in her quarters was private, like she had said before. But still. It was Cerberus. 

So she supposed this was the best way. Business as usual. Just keep the ball rolling. Stay in the game. Figure out what the hell is going on over time. Not at once, but over time. 

Keep going, Margaret. The threat could be worse this time around. 

So she did.

The errands in Omega were done and over with. Onwards to the next destination and adventure to recruit a krogan warlord and a prisoner.

But a ghost being active on a mercenary-war-plague-stricken-crime-addled station to cure a plague and slightly improve the quality of life would not warrant silence. Usually, travelers to Omega left it the way they found it - a hot mess. But Shepard left a presence of cleanliness. She did good things on Omega. Brought change.

It could be an overnight thing, that it could all just blow over in a week. But nope. It rang strong. Got stronger. Commander Shepard was back from the dead. And so was the Normandy SR-2. Shiny, new, beautiful and in Ceberus’ orange. Word spread fast already. 

Joker already began getting emails. The buzz was in the station as they were getting ready to leave, and the word was spreading fast. Did you hear? Have you heard? Shepard is back.

He heard so much of her that it almost made him forget that he had only seen her a handful of times that week when they went to bed.

Shepard sometimes was asleep by the time he got back. Other nights, she was awake. Late. The time she got Mordin took her longer than usual and she had returned at almost 04:00 to her cabin. 

The navigation was mapped to the next system to travel through. Today was a lucky night. She was awake when he got off his shift.

Awake and worth it. Shepard was already in bed and scrolling down a data pad she had in hand.

“So, I already got one email from an old pilot friend of mine asking if it's me on the SR-2 again,” Joker began. 

“You too? I just now was able to reactivate my extranet email with my old bank account. I still passed the security questions,” Shepard said. 

“Mother’s maiden name is a dead give away,” Joker said. “Shepard is easy to remember.”

“Actually, that is not correct,” Shepard smirked. “I spelled it as Shepherd. With an H and an E. And I have never lost a credit once . How’s that for a strong password?” She was so proud of herself. It was sweet. And okay, he had to give it to her. She was in a good mood.

Maybe after finishing up everything in Omega, the Illusive Man would let her sleep a little more.

Joker laid down next to her on his pillow and 

“Better than my password. It’s just a password spelled with a double dollar sign and a 1.”

“I’m still gonna buy things on T-I-M’s dime, though,” Shepard said, almost as a side comment. “He did say that it was mine to see fit…”

Joker could see her new ships in the display case already.

“So stick it to the Illusive Man," he said. "You already had practice with the Council. You know I’m not one for working for any government, but I can’t think of any better way to stick it to the them by them paying your Spectre salary just so you could hang up on them anyways.”

“The simple days,” Shepard sighed. “When I could just hang up on the Councillors and not give a damn." She turned off the data pad and placed it next to her alarm clock. The lights dimmed a little more, leaving them in near darkness except the fish tank's blue. She laid down. "But if I stick it to the Council now, what about Anderson?"

“Stick it to them anyways. He’ll get it," Joker said. "It’s already going to start. Me playing secretary for you with patching through the Council." 

"Would it even be worth asking them to reinstate my Spectre status? Cerberus isn’t exactly on good terms with them. What with...everything.”

Joker let out a breath. “It would be worth a shot. Plenty of Spectres are low radar about everything.”

“Well, with me being the only human Spectre in the mix, I don’t think I’m exactly subtle. Besides, I don’t actually know how to do that.”

“Do what? Be subtle?”

“Well, yeah. But I mean the other thing. I don't know how to patch through calls,” Shepard said. 

“Wait. You’re kidding right?”

"No."

“So what did you learn in your training?”

“Science? Mostly?” Shepard asked. “You do know that training isn’t just in combat, right? I did my first 4 classifications in traditional combat and vanguard biotic along with the usual training. Then I did 5 and 6 in science. And then I reached 7 with combat,” she said. "We've been over this before...uh. Three years ago."

The realization settled quietly. But Joker went with it.

"So, give me a refresher," he said offhandedly. "Do you know a phone?"

"In layman's terms, I just don’t know how to work a landline phone. I never found a need for it, since I am not a pilot. And will never be a pilot, out of respect of not taking your position as the best."

"Baby, you can't drive. It's fine."

Shepard huffed. "Oh, whatever."

“But in patching a call...You’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“So, I answer a call, go to your icon, talk to you, and I drag the call window over to your name and press a second button that says patch through. That's all there is to it.”

Shepard paused. Processed the information. “So I was right. All you do at the helm is push buttons.”

He did not expect it. Yet her response was fast, and to her own amusement all the same.

Joker was thankful that he was not at the helm, because EDI would have interrupted and made it a whole ordeal. She would have made it worse. One “Correct” and Shepard would never let go of it. 

“Hey!” Joker warned. But it was too late. 

“I was right!” Shepard started to laugh. “You just press a button !”

“Well, you don’t need pedals to drive a ship!” Joker exclaimed. “There is concentration, attention to detail, math, fast reflexes, making sure the ship won’t overheat, typing up reports, Plus, measuring and balancing FTL speeds to a destination, and a whole flight academy dedicated to this. Hell, I did even more on the old girl; I would have to go in to pick up the Mako for whatever ungodly angle you left it stuck on.”

Shepard continued laughing. Somehow, even harder. 

“Then when you did donuts out of the objective zone? Let’s talk about that, actually. What did you gain from doing donuts in the Mako?”

“Great memories. And honestly, it was also to impress you.”

“Impress me? With that driving? That was never going to happen,” Joker deadpanned. Not when he would already give up the galaxy just to hear her laugh again. "Well hey, when you're done mocking me, I'll just be here. Going to sleep."

"You got it," Shepard leaned over and briefly pressed a kiss to him, mint toothpaste against his own. "Good night."

The funeral was in the Citadel.

Arcturus was too distant for it to be called home. Shepard had her apartment. Had memories there.

He couldn’t remember much from before the funeral—other than the night before in his bedroom, in pain and crying, and crying. Just genuine soul crushing pain. Somehow he had slept and woken up to his dad and Gunny on his doorstep, with them taking a skycar after arriving from Tiptree. He had breakfast. At least, he thought he did. 

There was no casket, just a laurel of flowers and a growing monument outside her statue. The newly created statue in bronze, with names of the fallen, and funeral services too. Hector's ashes were transported back to Earth. Rosamund and Talitha's family had a brief service while he was hospitalized, then the Druvan sisters were extradited to their home colony. That part had stung so much. He couldn't even go to his fellow pilot and her sister's funerals.

Bobby died en-route to the medical. Orden has held onto Ashley in her last moments before help arrived.

Shepard's service was the last one. Her body was never recovered. No dog tags, no ruins, nothing. Just the whisper of his name and Joker's heart that died along with her. 

There was the public service, then the private. With just the crew and family attending. Though he remembered Garrus and Liara, and Tali going outside more than once with Ashely, he mostly stayed with his dad and his sister. Wrex had stood behind him the entire service, not once leaving his side. Just a hand on his shoulder, not many words spoken. 

Then was near the end of the service. He didn't get an offer for the eulogy. What the hell could he say? He was in a secret relationship with Margaret Shepard and it should have been him instead of her? 

He couldn't say anything.

Then came the farewells.

Once it was his family's turn, he hugged Emmanuel, then Ellie, who had held him a little closer than he ever had before. He remembered being distracted with Ellie speaking to him directly for the first time, with the softly spoken comment of "Thank you for being here."

Then, there was Hannah.

I’m sorry would never cut it. For all the clashes, disagreements and comments, Margaret loved her mom. She adored the ground she walked on. And he knew, for all the comments, all the complaints, Hannah loved her daughter. 

And now, Hannah looked at him. Though she was composed, the glare full of heartbreak was enough. And he didn't blame her whatsoever.

He said nothing. She said less.

And she kept walking to the next attendant. 

She had woken up.

Normally, Joker was a sound sleeper. But this time, he had woken up with her to see her turned on her back rather than asleep on her side. In the dim light, he could see her tapping her index to her thumb again. 

He had found her like this two nights after Saren, once the initial sleepiness of her painkillers for her broken wrist had worn off. She would pace quietly. Tap her fingers a lot. But even that wasn't new; he'd seen her do it for as long ago since secondary school. She got anxious. Panicky. It happened. He had never commented on it, and she had never said why she did it. But he noticed it.

In her cabin after Saren, all he could offer was a distraction. Or listen to her. Whatever she wanted and felt most comfortable with. 

"Hey, what's up?" he asked quietly, as more awareness came to him.

"Nothing," Shepard shook her head. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep." But her voice was shaky.

"It doesn't sound like nothing," Joker said. "What's on your mind?"

"We can get through this, right?" she asked. 

"This?"

"All of this," she said. "Cerberus. This mission. Me being back. The past two years. All these changes.... We can get through this. Right?"

"Yeah," Joker said. "Of course we will."

"Okay," she exhaled. "Okay. Okay, okay," she repeated again. "Okay..." she sniffled.

Yet she was everything but.

"I have to be honest. I...don't know if I can go back to the Citadel," she admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready to see how much it changed since I was gone. I don't know if I can talk to my family. I know--I know I said I didn't want to be in the Alliance anymore after Saren, but I come back to life and I'm part of Cerberus," her voice cracked. "Did I bring this upon myself?"

Oh god, how did his heart break every time he saw her cry.

"First of all, your family loves you. They will never turn you away. And second, you did not bring this upon yourself," Joker. And hoped he was saying the right things. "Baby, you were killed. You did not bring your death upon yourself," Joker said. "And yes. Cerberus is fucked up. It has to be burned to the ground. And the one thing Cerberus ever did right by this galaxy was bring you back. Both statements can exist at the same time."

He hoped he was saying the right thing.

"And right now, things are...messed up. Missing colonies, human ones at that. And the Reaper threat...We're just using the resources at our disposal so we can survive what comes next. We got handed lemons and we're making fucked up lemonade," Joker said.

"I don't know where I'll go after this," Shepard said. "After the mission is over. If there even is an after this and the Reapers hadn't killed us all."

"I don't know either," Joker said.

He should tell her the truth with everything. The funeral was on his mind. Everything was on his mind.

But now wasn't a good moment.

"But we'll get through this," he said again. "I know we will. I know it feels like a lot now, but we will get through this. I promise. Tomorrow, we'll make it a better day."

They need to get through this. He had to. 

"Okay," Shepard said. Voice a little calmer. "Thank you, Jeff."

Like she had said before, all those years ago on the SR-1. Where it felt like he was one of the few people that could see the weight on her shoulders. And he said the same thing he said to her then.

"You don't gotta thank me," he said softly. "Come on, let's get some water. Your head will thank you in the morning."

Chapter Text

Joy with her friends. With her crew. The days things were happier and easier. The days where she was in love with her pilot, in denial about it, running around trying to save the galaxy from itself and a badder threat, and feeling connected to her crew. The running phase. The confession. The kiss. The sex. The battle for the Citadel that followed. Sovereign. Saren. Evolved Saren 2, extra fucked up.

(Her wrist being broken had terrified her. So simply snapped, so fast, and she had feared that her neck was next.)

(She tried to deny the nightmares that followed of that exact motion.)

Then the clean up. Then the gala prep. The dress fitting. Noticing new scars on her body that she had not seen before. The stolen moment with Jeff in the airlock before she left the Normandy. Then the photos at the gala, one with just them two together. 

She wondered if it was still in her tool box, taped to the inside of the lid. 

The honeymoon that followed the gala with the shore leave of sex.

But even back then, came the eventuality. Eventually, this would return to normal.

Is this what it's like to be so happy? To just see him and think that this was it?

She made him happy. She felt good around him. She wanted to be better. There was so much that she felt towards him, so many words left unsaid.

Time felt like nothing when she was with him. The burdens that the galaxy laid on her were shared. Or almost forgotten.

He was her heart. Simply put like that. He followed her into hell. Into heaven. Into anywhere they both wanted to go. 

She ignored her first alarm the next morning, curled against him. Even if she wanted to get up, which she didn't, it would not be needed. Not now. 

Cerberus could fucking wait.

She felt his kiss on her forehead before he left to his post, then went back to sleep.

The bed was rarely empty during shore leave. His side, at least.

She woke up to the empty bed and the covers tucked around her, no doubt something Joker did before he left. A smaller blanket was on top of her, one that was on the couch when she first arrived into the ship.

The skylight above her just showed stars. Time had passed since the crash.

She looked away to her bedside table anyway.

Only to find a sealed can of coffee and the clear ice tumbler filled to the brim next to it. How she liked it. She didn't put it there last night. 

There was a small note. Just a heart, drawn on a small paper taken from her index cards.

'Good morning, beautiful. Hope this makes the morning better. - Jeff'

Shepard smiled.

It already did.

Jeff

I got your note.

Thank you.

Baby, you don't have to thank me.

Still. Thank you.

You got the good flavor.

Of course I did.

I stole it from Miranda's office.  

Well...Zaeed did it for me, but still.

Glad to know where to loot from now.

I'll talk to you soon. Doc calls.

Good luck. See you later, Maggie.

She drank her coffee in Dr. Chakwas’ wing and filled her in on what had happened. Had been happening. And debated whether to tell her that she’s been haunted by some things since she was a child.

But even then. Posttraumatic stress disorder. Obsessive-compulsive. She remembered those words, the tiny footnotes of her diagnoses.

She remembered the take-as-needed pills that were in her tool box that went down with the ship. 

“You know, I'm no stranger to a run of the mill breakdown but…” she trailed off. “Should I worry?"

“If it were up to me, you'd be on bed rest right now until your scars finished healing and you got psychiatric counseling,” Dr. Chakwas huffed out. “But Cerberus, yet again, thinks their science is better than medicine.”

“So should I worry?”

"Should you worry and bring excessive stress on you? Absolutely not. You should not put yourself into stressful situations," Dr. Chakwas said. 

If only she could.

“Doc, my entire life is a stressful situation,” she said, close to a sob without crying. “I don't think I can avoid them. But I also...cannot keep lying and pretend everything is okay anymore.”

Not that anything has been okay since I got ressurected anyway. 

“But I don’t trust anyone that isn’t my crew,” she stared at her mug. “No one from Cerberus.”

“I can refer you to a psychiatrist in the Citadel once we get closer to it,” Dr. Chakwas said. 

“Yeah, I think that will help.”

“Shepard. There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr. Chakwas said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shepard said. “That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna feel like shit anyway. But...I'll try. One minute at the time. Thank you.”

Grunt and Jack were recruited and brought aboard. Why not work over time and get it all done anyway? Zaeed got a kick of the missions. Miranda did not. 

Joker, though, sure did.

"Right off the bat, you decide to recruit a trigger happy Krogan toddler with a shotgun. You get them at the same store?”

“Same system,” Shepard said, “But that's pretty funny. I can see why they call you Joker.”

“Smartass. So let me get this whole thing straight; the Krogan is fully grown but still technically a newborn?"

"Fully tank grown."

"That makes zero sense."

"So he's fully grown in the tank but he is a newborn in this galaxy. So yes. Grunt is a child who is also an adult."

"Margaret, where do you get all these new friends?"

“Dossiers. The Illusive Man is, oh how do you say, an illusive pain in my ass. But at the end of the day, he signs my paycheck, so,” Shepard shrugged. “Can't complain to his face.”

“Yeah,” Joker said. He paused. “How are you feeling?”

“Awake. I'm a little tired. Not better, but not worse,” Shepard said. “But I talked to the good doc. She’ll refer me to medical attention in the Citadel,” she scratched her head. “Psychiatrist. The other doc will get a kick out of seeing me alive but it will just be another thing to do there.”

“It’s a start,” Joker nodded. “That’s good.”

“I haven’t told Miranda. I’m not going to tell her anyways,” Shepard said. “She’ll try to refer me to someone from Cerberus, and I don’t like that.”

“It isn't like Cerberus is giving you a break anyway,” Joker shrugged. “But that’s a good start in the right direction.”

“I hope so,” Shepard said. 

It wasn’t like I didn’t deal with some of this before anyway…

“Um...I just want to say thank you. For helping me out last night,” she said a little awkwardly. “I know it mustn’t have been easy.”

“Margaret. Do not ever apologize to me like that again,” Joker said simply. “You’re my girlfriend. Of course I’ll be there for you. And to hell whoever thinks otherwise.”

“Thank you,” Shepard said. “Thank you. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll be looking at my billion emails in our room. I gotta take it easy and all.”

“I’ll be there once I wrap up.”

Commander Shepard:

Welcome back. If it’s to be believed that you’re really alive, we would like to ask a favor of you.

Our scans in the Amada system have turned up something we thought you should see: the final location of the wreckage of the SSV Normandy.

We thought this news might be important to you, but we also have an ulterior motive. The Alliance would like to honor the Normandy with a monument, to be built on the site of the ship’s final resting place. We’d like to invite you to place the monument and be the first to walk on the site.

There are still 20 crew members unaccounted for from the attack on the Normandy. If you find any signs of these lost crewmen, we ask that you report to the Alliance so that those heroes’ families might find some closure.

Godspeed to you, Commander.

Write to your mother. She misses you.

 

- Hackett 

Shepard backed away from her terminal. Stared at it like it was on fire from inside, scorched to the brink. 

She had no words. Had nothing to say. The air was tight and heavy.

And she let out a long fucking scream.

What the fuck was this? 

What the actual fuck was this? 

What the actual fuckity fuck was all this?!

“Babe. Breathe for a second,” Joker said on the other end of the line. “What do you mean the Alliance found the crash site?”

“Read the fucking email, Hackett found it!” Shepard exclaimed. 

“Yeah, honey. I’m reading it,” Joker said patiently. “I’ve read it about a dozen times already. Where’s Garrus?”

“On his way upstairs,” Shepard said into the voice comm. She wiped her eyes. “He got the message while he was doing some calibrations.”

“Of course he was,” Joker said. “Alright. I’ll be there soon. Just breathe. It’s gonna be okay. I gotta---shit, hang on, I gotta do something---” 

“Okay. Okay,” Shepard nodded. She ran her hands through her hair again. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

The doors hissed open. Garrus arrived. He walked down the stairs and found her on the end of the couch.

“Alright, come on,” he said. He hugged her close. “Come on. Breathe.”

Shepard exhaled shakily. And held him tighter. 

After a few moments, he let her go and held her shoulders. 

“Shepard. You know what I’m about to say. But you better believe it; it’s going to be alright,” he said firmly. “We will work through this together . I’ll follow you into hell and the crash site isn’t any different.”

“I can’t even look at it,” Shepard confessed. “It feels like a nightmare come true. Like it happened.”

“It did happen,” Garrus said. “And it broke our hearts. But now, we know where we can pay our respects. We have some form of closure.”

“Closure is a scam,” Shepard said. “It won’t bring my ship back.”

“It won’t,” Garrus said. “But it’ll help us bury the old girl and grieve.”

Grief.

That was what she felt. 

Grief over the lives that were lost, the life she lost, and the ship lost with it. Grief. 

“Joker on his way?”

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “I think Doc’s busy with Grunt.”

“Grunt...oh right. Designated Krogan.”

“Garrus.”

“I’m not wrong,” Garrus said. “I’m the designated turian. Don’t even worry about it.” He looked over to the wall. “Is that a fish tank?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are the fishes?”

“I think I have to buy them separately.”

“Well, count on Cerberus for being cheap on that .”

Shepard let out a chuckle. She felt too many emotions at the same time.

The overhead speaker got a ping.

“Babe, I’m so sorry about this,” Joker said. “God, baby, I’m so sorry, but you have an urgent incoming transmission from the Illusive Man. Another colony went silent.”

As if today could not get any worse. 

“Wait what?!”

“Horizon, edge of the Terminus Systems. He didn’t give me the full details other than that. You’re needed in the comm room as soon as possible. God, I’m so sorry, honey.” He sounded genuinely hurt by the fact too.

“Jeff, it’s alright. I’ll be fine. I’ll be there,” Shepard said. “God. Fuck. Fuck!”

Garrus looked at her. “Horizon went dark?” 

“Apparently! God, okay,” Shepard needed to pull her shit together. “Okay. We're headed to Horizon.”

“I’m coming with you,” Garrus said firmly. “You can’t say otherwise. I got a concussion, not beheaded, and I am clear as of thirty minutes ago. Come on, let's go.”

“Agreed. Let’s go,” Shepard said shakily. And she willed her legs to walk. She’s gone through worse. 

She can do this.

She had to. 

She's Commander Shepard. And she had to save the day again. 

Chapter Text

Horizon happened. Shepard was too quiet. Garrus left to the bottom floor to hide in another part of engineering. Something happened. It was bad. Bad enough for Joker to worry. Especially considering that the crash site email was still heavy in the air. 

Joker noticed the frown on Shepard’s face in her quarters. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

Shepard chewed on her lip. “Jeff…” she trailed off. She stopped. Then she tried again. “Do you feel obligated to be here with me?”

Joker frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like the question I just said. Do you feel obligated to be here? With me?”

“Um. No? I don’t understand the question.”

“You have...morals.”

“Yes, Margaret. I do indeed have morals.”

“And you have an Alliance centric upbringing. Like me. And you joined Cerberus. For me. Did you feel forced to do so, out of loyalty?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've said it before that you'd follow me into hell.”

“Of course I would.”

“Am I the real Shepard?” Shepard asked.

“What?”

“I mean, I died, didn’t I? What if Kaidan was right and I was just a fake made by Cerberus? A highly intelligent AI that convinced itself that they’re Commander Shepard?”

“ Kaidan said that?”

“He said a lot of things.”

Shit, no wonder she was so fucked up today.

“Fuck,” Joker cursed. “I am so sorry, honey. I didn’t know it would be that bad.”

“He talked to me like he didn't even know me anymore. I--I hate this so much. I know a lot of people we called friends will treat us with hostility because we're under Cerberus colors. Kaidan has always been a loyal soldier to the Alliance. But I just did not want to believe it. I didn’t want to think about it. I don’t know what to think. Am I real? Am I fake? What the hell am I? Am I even worthy of all this?”

Joker blinked. He wasn’t sure where her question came from, but he knew his answer right away. “Shepard,” he said. “Baby, what brought this on? You're one of the most important people in my life. I just got you back. I would never walk away,” Joker said. “I’d be a damn fool if I did. We made that promise many years ago to have each other's backs.”

“But we were kids back then.”

“And I still stand by it. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Shepard exclaimed.

Joker shrugged. “Then there we have it,” he said. “I want to be here, at your side. There is no other ship I’d rather be on. There's a thousand ships in the galaxy and only one Normandy. And only one Commander Shepard. I'm exactly where I want to be, Mags. Not only that, but it’s you. I want to be at your side. Don’t let what happened on Horizon get to you,” he said softly.

Shepard did not answer him.

Oh.

“It did though.”

Joker turned to face her. 

“It did get to me. A lot of this did get to me, actually,” Shepard flexed her hands against the bed cover. “Because ever since I was resurrected, nothing has been clear. Not from Cerberus, not from you and much less from the galaxy. I’ve looked for answers, over and over, and I have asked so many questions about what the hell happened in the attack and after, and even now, I’ve gotten no answers at all! The galaxy thinks me being back dead makes me something frail, when I’m anything but that!” Shepard’s voice broke. “And after what just--fucking happened on Horizon, I feel like I am at my limit. I’m done being polite. Done hiding the desperation. I just want answers. What happened? Why is everyone driven so far apart?” 

When you were gone, I wasn’t okay. I was heartbroken. I lost my friends, my ship. I lost you. My home was gone, along with the person that mattered the most to me in it. Alliance grounded me. Clipped my wings. And…And...

Joker exhaled. There really was no point in not talking about this anymore. 

“Your mother filed a civil lawsuit against me and I accidentally overdosed after she dropped it.”

The elephant in the room was shot and the gun was still smoking. 

Never had he seen devastation and shock on Shepard’s face like that.

He held his head between his hands. His cap was long since gone somewhere on the bed. Or on the floor. He did not care anymore.

“What?” Shepard’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“It was in civil court.” You wouldn’t have survived the trial if it was in the Alliance court. “It did not get past the hearing. Afterwards, she slapped me on the steps. Your mother dropped the charges and the lawsuit was dismissed. But I drank too much. I was still taking pain medicine…it was an accident. And then I woke up in the hospital.” 

Anderson visited.

How, he didn't know. He hadn't told anyone about the hospitalization, not even when he got his omnitool back after he woke up the first night. Then again, he couldn't really have said much. I had an accidental alcohol poisoning/overdose. Emphasis on accidental. 

It was an accident.

An accident. 

Yet there was Anderson. 

(“I'd salute, but. I'm in a lot of pain.”

“I know. Don't worry.”)

“Like you've dealt with panic attacks, I've dealt with my own issues. I went to Tiptree. Got treated for kidney stuff. Got treated for the PTSD stuff. So. Yeah, that’s what happened. Now, you know.”

“Jeff--”

"Margaret, don't. Don't apologize. It's nothing alright? Just things that happen. I don't resent your mom. I don't hate her. I never will. I never did. It hurt me, yeah, but I don't blame her," Joker said, though his voice was tight. And full of heartbreak.

"You shouldn't have gone through that."

"Well, I did," Joker said sharply. "I did and it sucked and it broke my fucking heart, and it broke my life into pieces. I get the internal guilt increased with a lawsuit that was justifiable, then it is gone, then your piloting license is revoked, your crew and your friends bail, and you get death threats--And then--you drink a little too much by accident. You get told so much that you're a killer, over and over, you start to believe that you killed your girlfriend. And then--you wake up with your little sister asleep in the chair next to you because she can’t fit on the hospital bed--” 

And that was what it did. That was what broke him. That’s what broke the tears out. Grief, pain, loss. Guilt. 

He felt arms around him, her knees in between his. He knew Shepard’s hands, even when he could not see them. He returned the embrace and let himself melt in it.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Joker choked out. “I felt like I died with you.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I wish it never happened. I wish you never got hurt like this.”

“We can’t keep pretending everything is the same. And it is on my end too. Everything has changed and it is only going to get more fucked up. We need to get ready for the rest of this.”

“We do,” Shepard wiped the tears from his face. “But for now, what matters here is us. The universe can wait.”

She pulled him against her chest. 

He knew this. The same motion he did with her, countless of times. The embrace. The reassurance. I know it may not fix anything, but come here. Let me hold you.

“The universe can wait,” she repeated softly. “My priority is you.”

Chapter Text

EDI drove the ship for the while being.

Joker sighed and leaned back, taking his cap off briefly to run a hand through his hair.

God.

He was exhausted.

It wouldn't be the first night that he fell asleep in his chair. Back on the SR-1, it was easier than going to bed for a nap when no one was on board, especially when he was parked in a port somewhere while Shepard was out and about. But he could not look away now.

It wasn't the most comfortable of places but the walk across the CIC and into the elevator to go upstairs was still a walk that he wasn't willing to make.

He didn't want to go through the effort of calling the relief pilot up. Not while Shepard was getting ready for, arguably, facing her own death again.

“EDI, take the helm for a second. I'm going to rest my eyes for a bit.”

“Taking the helm.”

Joker took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long exhausted sigh. Sometimes the brightness of the screens became too much for his eyes, tiring him out even more. He thought about getting the night filters for the software. But that would be an update for another day.

The headaches had diminished over the years. Knowing what they were up against helped, less of the unknown, more of the known. But he wasn't tired yet.

Not with the crash site being four kilometers away from landing.

He tried to breathe. He couldn't.

“Jeff--”

Her communication link went silent.

It was no technical failure. No glitch in the system. 

Joker felt his heart drop.

No, no, no, fuck. It can't be true. It isn't true. 

Yet---

He heard it himself. He heard her last breaths. Felt her last touch.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt tears drop onto his lap, with his broken leg and soul.

What the fuck just happened?

“Joker? Are you there?” Ashlet's voice snapped him back to the reality of the situation.

Joker closed his eyes and counted to ten, to twelve, to fifteen, until he could feel his breathing return to normal again. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk. Maybe his life went along with Shepard's.

“Joker?! Joker! Are you there? God, please answer me,” Ashley begged. 

He tried to breathe. The communication was crackling. “-I'm here.”

“Oh thank God,” Ashley said. "What--"

Joker tried to move up to one of the seats but a stabbing pain in his left leg prevented him. He let out a short yelp.

“Are you hurt?”

“My leg,” Joker managed to say. “Fuck, my leg is broken.”

“We're gonna come to get you. Hang in there. Where's Shepard?”

Shock had deeply settled into his system.

“Joker, is Shepard with you?”

“Joker?”

“She didn't make it.”

Tears of pain broke through.

"She didn't make it---"

And the sobs broke him, broke his heart. Shepard kept floating out in nothing. It should have been him.

The doors softly hissed open behind him.

"Hey," Shepard greeted, her hand on his shoulder. She was very much alive.

Funny how all this still felt like yesterday, even when he tried to think the thoughts in silence. He could not really fight them, or deny them, as his counselor told him back in Tiptree. Denial was a stage of grief, he had said. It is common for survivors. He was experienced in veterans and Alliance military, like him.  

But is it really the same when it's your girlfriend you saw die in front of you?

Joker reached up to hold her gloved hand. It is good that she wore gloves. At least she would not notice how his hands were sweating. "Hey. Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I'm okay. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

They were getting better about telling ittle lies like that.

"You have a helmet..."

"I know. But it's just like riding a bike. I think. I don’t know how to ride bikes.”

"Neither do I," Joker said. “In all seriousness...If you need anything…”

“I know…Are you sure about this?”

Not at all. But I want to see it through.

“Yes,” Joker said firmly. “I…I am sure. It terrifies me. But I need to see this through.”

They could not ignore the past and pretend that it never happened.

“We can wait on this,” Shepard said. 

“No, honey. I am sure about this. There is nowhere else I would rather be than at your side. It hurts...a lot. And it is a funeral for the old girl. It’s difficult, but…it’s closure. But only if you are sure about this.”

Garrus was not. But he was also going through a lot since Horizon.

"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "It is closure"

She leaned down and kissed him briefly, then let go, with a final caress against his jaw. 

"I'll be back in a bit," she said. 

She looked down at her helmet and with a deep breath, put it on.

Was this it? 

Was this the snow covered tomb she was supposed she died in?

For once, the feed was entirely silent. 

She quietly departed on her own without asking the squad for backup.

The visor was switched out for her regular helmet. Her vitals were still active, present on the screen. Helmet ca m was on, the crunch of the snow under her feet as she knelt down and picked up dog tags.

He could see her on the map, a blue dot in the objective zone. He listened and waited for her reaction, any reaction, but got nothing instead.

Other than her vitals showing her heart racing, the adrenaline gauge is full. Her heart was beating too fast for this, but EDI showed no signs of her being in danger, or any hostiles enemies nearby. 

Oh. Shepard muted herself. 

He almost wanted to speak but doing that felt improper. So he let the feed stay silent, almost as silent the snow covered tomb the Normandy SR-1 laid in now.

Her vitals were mostly stable, nothing out of place for a mission, heart beat racing the highest he had seen in a while.

She walked slowly, over debris, around pieces of the ship. 

She sat down on a ledge, snow crunching under her armor. She counted out the dog tags.

When Shepard stepped onto the cockpit, Joker stood up.

She didn’t say a word.

He hugged her closer instead.

Chapter Text

Her toolbox was sanitized from the crash site, a few patches of the dark maroon paint burned off.  

“Your toolbox and lockbox survived the crash,” Joker noted. 

“Shockingly, yes!”

Inside the bags were the now defrosted foundation bottles, halfway empty. There was a trio of brushes kept together by a hair tie. Combs, bobby pins, spare bonnet, shower cap, halfway empty spray bottle of argan oil for her hair, along with hemp gel and shea butter. 

A small compact mirror was buried underneath the pictures. A rolled up belt buckle. A pouch contained necklaces and earrings that she barely used. What took up the most space was her photo album, made of cheap plastic. 

“Hey, it’s my flask!” Shepard opened the small gray flask and gently shook it. “Aw, it's empty.”

“Jeff, look!” Shepard held up her tiny model ship. “I haven't seen one of these in so long. I got this in an Asari gift shop. And this one too. I don't think this model at the time had FTL. Did you know it's the second largest ship to be manufactured from the Atlantic?This one landed on the moon.”

Joker was smiling.

“What? I like ships.”

“Yeah, honey, I know you do,” he smiled. ”I know you really like ships…I know you stole some from me too.”

“Seditious slander,” Shepard said. “Take it back.”

“I’ll take back my stolen ships, thanks.”

“Is that…” Joker picked up the picture. “Wow. I remember this.”

It was a picture of them together, taken during the gala by Tali randomly. Her beautiful dress, her smile. How he had his arm around her shoulders when he wanted to swoop her into another Victory kiss again.

How the picture happened to come maybe twenty minutes after Shepard did.

Shepard started laughing. “I do remember that,” she flustered. “I very much do.”

“It’s a nice picture.”

“Very.”

Joker looked onto the bed. “There’s the helmet.”

“It's weird keeping something I died in. We'll find an ocean to throw it in. Something symbolic…Or something. I don’t know. I didn't ever think I would die. I didn't even think I would ever get resurrected either,” Shepard leaned back onto the bed. “It’s a weird middle to be in. But I can’t say I’m over it.”

Silence lingered in the room.

“I think we need to go to the Citadel.”

“I think so too.”

Garrus was ready for the trip. “I have a specialist in the Citadel that I see at the end of the year for adjustments, in case anything needs to be calibrated or if I end up needing to look into a stronger right side aid. Genetic and whatnot. C-Sec covered that, at least.”

“Oh,” Shepard blanked. “That’s right. I can’t believe I forgot about the mid-year appointments. I'm sorry about that.”

“Shepard. You cannot be apologizing for something you don't have to apologize for. You were dead.”

“I should be more considerate. I didn't even ask you about it when you woke up. I asked about gossip.”

“Shepard, don't apologize. It's fine.”

“Spirits. Okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm nervous,” Shepard admitted.

“Oh, shit. I forgot. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“What?

“Shepard, you died. Legally died. They're not going to let you in.”

“Uh, yeah they will,” Shepard snorted. “I’m Commander Shepard.”

“Bet 20 credits.”

“You're on, Vakarian.”

“Sorry, it says here that you died.”

Shepard let out the longest sigh.

Garrus started laughing.

The poor officer fixed the problem immediately.

Garrus was still laughing at Shepard.

“Gimme that chit,” Shepard held out her hand. “Gimme that chit!”

Garrus held out his arm and activated his omnitool. He still could not stop laughing.

“I want to see Anderson.”

“He's here, you're just in time.”

And Shepard walked in.

“Margaret.”

He held her close. 

“Let me look at you,” Anderson said. “With my own eyes.”

“I look the same,” Shepard said shakily. “Cerberus didn't replace anything important.”

He hugged her tighter. 

“Old man---” she sobbed harder. Held him tighter. 

“Shh…” He smoothed down her hair. “It’s alright.”

There was never much she had to bring up to Anderson. He was perceptive. Often, it was him who brought up difficult conversations and nudged her to talk. He had her picture on his desk, the official Alliance portrait. But at the corner was the school picture.

She remembered that photo.

“You still have this?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

Shepard felt her heart stop beating.

Or something akin close to it.

“What happened?”

Anderson sighed.

“Sit down, Margaret. There is a lot to talk about...”

The cashier made no comment if she recognized her. She just rang up her order.

Shepard stared at her fries and ignored the pinging from her omni tool. Her wristband was buzzing with the messages, but nothing pinged as urgent from the Normandy. 

In a way, this is the most relative normalcy she’s had since woken up. Escaping from family problems, going to the food court, pretending to be yet another face in the crowd when she was anything but the Shepard dynasty.

 Had it been a backpack with her toy ships and a kid's size drink, it would have been like she was thirteen again and hiding out in the most secluded corner of Arcturus' food court. Waiting for Jeff to show up after class, to cheat off their notes together, to gossip and wait for their friends.

She tried to pretend everything was good.

She could not do that anymore.

Kaidan and Ellie broke up. Ellie moved out. Her stepdad and her mother got a divorce.

And her stepdad was with Bailey. Of C-Sec. Her stepdad retired and remarried with Bailey.

She did not have a single response for any of that.

A brother she did not feel so attached to. A mother with an impossible standard to live up with. A father who only became more and more distant with her mother as time went on. A stepfather that, according to Anderson, is actually much happier with the man she least ever expected he would end up with it.

Granted, Shepard thought he was straight.

There she was. The ordinary Shepard. 

With the most insane, unordinary life.

Naturally, Shepard bought a hamster.

She took him to the Normandy in her arms, the little man she named Hammy. Hammy was cheerful. His gear was delivered to her cabin.

Garrus found her first.

“Shepard. What…is that?”

“My family broke apart. I bought a hamster.”

“...A hamster?”

“His name is Hammy.”

“Hammy.”

“He's a hamster.”

“Margaret.”

“Would you like to hold my hamster?”

“Margaret Shepard, why do you have a hamster?”

“Because it's cute and I just got resurrected and my life is a fucked up mess and just keeps getting more fucked up and I want a sense of normalcy…Also because he's cute,” Shepard said. “Would you like to hold my hamster?”

Garrus paused.

“Yeah, alright. Let me see that little guy.”

Chapter Text

Joker finished up the liver treatment and packed his bags to go back after he got discharged from the hospital. But he had also canceled the lease on his apartment, the few belongings he had in there. Removed his memberships from Citadel exclusively stores. To all any witnesses, he was gone. The physical sense of him was never there. 

Gunny helped him pack. His father did too. The furniture was cleaned off and wrapped up, not that it needed to be moved anyways - they came with the apartment and belonged to the building.

Joker kept Margaret’s clothes, makeup. All of the little things she kept in her drawer during shore leave. He didn’t throw out her receipts. He brought them with him on the SR-2.

Being in the Citadel was a trip of nostalgia and sorrow. No one really cared that he was there; which was fine. He did not go to the memorial of the Normandy. He wanted to spare himself that pain.

He walked in the courtyard on his way back to the elevators. Then he heard his name.

“Jeff?”

He stopped in his steps. 

Somehow, every encounter happened in the Presidium.

Hannah Shepard stood behind him.

"Captain."

"Hannah.” She corrected him.

He used to call her Hannah when he was a kid. 

"Hannah, ma’am. Ma’am.”

But it was not familiar anymore.

“I… You don't have to forgive me for anything. But please, don't take it out on her," Joker said. “That’s all I ask. And…I'm sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn't you call?” Hannah asked.

"I was under orders to not say anything. And...I didn't want to make it worse. I did not want…”

To make my presence be more painful than it already was. 

"I tried to talk to you.”

“I disabled the extranet account. I got too many death threats on it.”

“I know. Your father told me.”

“You spoke with my dad?”

“I asked your father for updates. I am deeply ashamed of I treated you. I am so sorry, Jeff. Nothing I said, nothing I did. It was not right. Not at all.  I don't resent you. I don't hate you. I don't want you to blame yourself.”

Too late for that.

“Jeff, I forgive you.”

The words were not what Joker ever expected. 

The presidium felt cold and empty, but the shakiness was not from the air. His lips were trembling he could not control it.

“ Hannah… ” Joker could not blink back the tears anymore.

“I mean it. I do,” Hannah was crying with him too. “I really do. Come here.”

He couldn’t forget how she was there for them when his ma passed. He accepted the hug. At the end of the day, he guessed he was still family. 

“I am so sorry, Jeff.” And she hugged him tighter.

“But it’s Cerberus. David told me she got resurrected. Rebuilt.”

“She is still Maggie. Nothing’s changed about her,” Joker smiled. “Her heart is still there.”

“I want to see my daughter, Jeff. Why hasn’t she seen me yet?”

He thought back about the tears that night, when she admitted she was scared of all this. That she did not think that her mother would want her again.

“She’s scared. I was scared too.”

“I know David broke the news to her about the divorce…”

Shit, there was a divorce?

She saw his reaction but she smiled. “Don’t worry, it was mutual. Manny found love with the man you least expected. Bailey.”

“No fucking way. Captain Bailey? Bitter Bailey?”

“Yes, I know! None of us could believe it either. But he is very happy with him. Bailey is still grumpy. But he’s happy! You know what that bastard said after the wedding ceremony? ‘No wonder that all my ex-wives did not work out. I was attracted to men.’”

Joker laughed at the sheer deadpan, yet accurate delivery of the imititattion from Hannah about Bailey. 

“I should go soon, I have to go home, but please…Please tell Margaret that I miss her. Please tell her I want my baby back. Please, please, please tell her that it doesn’t matter that it’s Cerberus. The stars brought her back to the galaxy, even if it was like this.”

“I will.” Joker nodded. The words were comforting. He hoped Margaret would see them like that too.

“Thank you.”

He entered the Normandy to much noise in the lounge that served as Kasumi’s bedroom. The drinks were being mixed and there was music playing. Maggie was drunk and seemingly everyone else was in the process too. There was a plastic sphere on the table. Miranda was at the bar serving drinks. And having...fun? Was she laughing? Was she laughing at a joke?

Was Miranda showing personality? 

“There he is! Come meet Hammy!” Jack exclaimed. Her black leather vest was replaced by a new leather jacket, a deep shade of maroon. This was so new. It felt weird to see it.

“Hammy?” Joker asked. Then he saw a tiny bundle of fur in Maggie's hands.

"Babe, I got a hamster!"

“Oh. A hamster. Makes sense to have a hamster aboard. Every ship needs a RAT!” 

“Don’t be rude!” Shepard covered Hammy's ears with her hands. 

“It’s true!"

“You're sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Oh, come on!” Joker exclaimed.

“I used to have a hamster once,” Kasumi said aloud. “Surprisingly, it lasted me a long time. But then he ran away. At least, that is what my mother told me…” she paused. “Wait...I think he died…”

“All hamsters are destined to die gruesome deaths,” Miranda stated.

“No, they’re not!” Shepard protested. “They need to be taken care of!”

“Can you eat this hamster?” Grunt asked.

“No!” Shepard snapped out. “Not the hamster!” 

“I know, Shepard. I just wanted to make a joke.”

Joker sat down next to Shepard and kissed the top of her head. She leaned over and kissed him in return. She was still holding onto the hamster. Joker could taste the vodka cranberry on her tongue.

"Are you drunk?"

"Yep! Do you want to get drunk?"

"Absolutely."

"What do you want?" Miranda asked from the bar.

"Depends. You know how to mix?"

"I have a bartending license."

"No way. You actually do?"

"I have a life outside of Cerberus, you know?"

"Rum and Coke," Margaret interrupted before the bickering could begin. She turned back to Joker. "You look tired. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I...I ran into your mom and it actually went very well."

Shepard's face lit up.

"She wants to see you."

"She does?" Margaret's face was so bright. So full of hope and joy. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "But--"

"No buts. She wants to see you. Wants to see her baby."

Shepard nodded. "I'll talk to her. I'll see her soon. Tomorrow...cause she won't like me drunk in the Citadel in a walk of shame, again!"

"She definitely won't!"

The mood felt light for the first time in a long time. And finally, Joker could breathe.

Chapter Text

“I got thoughts like little bugs crawling in and out of my head. I can’t stop them.”

Margaret sat down across from her. “I know what that’s like." 

“You know I have a history with Cerberus. You know how far back it goes?”

“Not specifically. But I’m listening.”

Jack kept messing with her jacket sleeves. “See, I work with you, and you work with Cerberus. They’re in my face all the time. This is gonna make me crazy. Crazier. But your pal, the Illusive Bitch? Never seen him before, but Cerberus raised me. First thing I remember is my cell door in Cerberus base.” She swallowed. “They did experiments. Drugged me. Tortured me. Whatever chance I had to be normal, they stole it by trying to turn me into some super-biotic.

“The doctors... the other kids... Every one of them hated me. They let me suffer.

“Oh my god.” Margaret could not help but let the words escape softly. “What did they hope to gain by torturing a little girl?”

“I don’t know. It was something about pain breaking down mental barriers, and how it might clear the way for more biotic power. Maybe there was going to be a payoff due at some point, maybe not.”

“They tortured you just to see if they could make a strong biotic? That’s it?”

“Wasn’t in a position to ask, Shepard. All I know is, a little girl crying in a cell, begging for the pain to stop…” Jack looked at her. Margaret was already tearing up.

“How did you get out of there?” Margaret held on.

“There was some kind of emergency and I made a break for it. The other kids came out of their cells and attacked me. So did the guards. I just killed everything in my way and ran. Guess my biotics had developed faster than they thought. Shit, more than I thought. They thought they were so clever. Turns out, mess with someone’s head enough and you can turn a scared kid into an all-powerful bitch. Fucking idiots…But there’s a loose end I need to deal with.

“I found the coordinates in your files. I want to go to the Teltin facility on Pragia, where they tortured and drugged me. I want to go to the center of the place, my cell. I want to deploy a big fucking bomb. And I want to watch from orbit when it goes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that, you’re game?”

“Cerberus is not my friend. They’re merely just a paycheck to destroy the Collectors. They gave me back my ship, they gave me back a life. That’s it.”

“Where’s the base?”

“I found the coordinates in your files. Pragia. 

“Okay. I’ll set a course for Pragia.”

Margaret and Jack walked into a morgue.

"What the hell is this?" Jack asked. The place was cold, empty, clinical lights overhead being an odd shade of blue. The blue that made her skin crawl. Something was terribly off about all this. The place was empty, yet Margaret could feel all the noise.

Garrus glanced around, his rifle sheathed. He was doing a lot better than Shepard expected in being back into the field. So much has happened since Horizon. Healing, Margaret would not call it. She still felt like shit.

Garrus did too.

"This is definitely a morgue," Garrus concluded. He pulled a drawer out from a refrigerated shelf to see medical tools stored.

“Why’d they need a morgue? This was a small facility.” Margaret voiced her thought aloud.

“I’m saying some sick son a bitch killed a lot of kids with these experiments. And then checked his work,” Garrus said. “All high grade medical equiptment, plus standard refrideration. They did not fix the filters, though.”

Margaret could not forget Garrus’ detective instinct still being there. Missions like this hurt. Missions always hurt like this. Noveria memories were crawling through Margaret's mind like the bugs that Jack had mentioned. She could not get rid of them.

She remembered Noveria, with Garrus bursting into tears. Turns out a lot more was on his mind than just the injury and the mission baggage. Family issues. Health issues. Hearing declining in his right ear and getting another brutal scare with his visor nearly shorting out with the acid. 

“These tables are the size for little kids. Dissecting children... Oh, God.”

Margaret could not stomach this.

She was really using Cerberus paycheck? The same Cerberus that did this?

No wonder there was more hesitance than anything she went through. There was too much to this. She knew Cerberus was evil. 

But this was the first time she actually saw it extend to children. 

Jack closed her eyes. Shook her head. And kept going. “So strange to be back here. I feel like... I’m pissed off. I’m a dangerous bitch. But then I’m a little girl again.”

Shepard held her hand. 

How, she did not know. But she held it tightly. Maybe Jack would have brushed it off. Maybe she would have gotten mad. 

Instead, Jack held on it tighter and did not let go. Did not say a comment. 

They both kept walking.

“I must have come through here when I broke out, but I don’t remember it.” Jack said. “This is a bad place…Oh god. This... It’s a two-way mirror? My cell is on the other side -- I could see all the other kids out here.”

Margaret could see their faint reflection in all this. Against her better judgement, she played the audio.

“Entry 1054, Teltin facility. The latest iteration of PerNim went poorly. Subjects One, Four, and Six died. No biotic change among the survivors. We lowered core temperatures of surviving subjects, but no biotically beneficial reactions occurred. As a side effect, all subjects died. So we’ll not try that on Zero. I hope our supply of biotic-potential subjects holds up. We are going through them fast.”

Jack stopped the audio.

“This is bullshit! They weren’t experimenting on the other children for my safety!”

“You had no idea.”

“It’s cause of me. It’s always been cause of me,” Jack was choking up. “It always---”

Shepard hugged her.

Jack finally sobbed. The tears that were being held back in the entire time they had been here, in the entire time that they first spoke together in Jack’s quarters.

Missions fucking hurt. This fucking hurt. 

Garrus averted the scene. Said nothing. This was already hurting enough. 

"Let's plant this fucking bomb," Jack said. Her makeup was smeared, but she was determined. "I've had enough."

Chapter Text

The stations as Shepard travelled and searched through them only felt more and more terrible with each step she took. This was masked as an experiment gone wrong. Rogue AI only got more and more angrier and took more bodies along the way. Only more and more hostile. It felt like Luna, maybe. Who knew? Shepard dealt with so many AIs. But it was never to the level like this. Never to Shepard seeing this up close.

Archer tortured his brother for the warped goal of science. He took advantage of his mind.

This was no science. This was cruelty.

Shepard turned to face Archer. 

“Wait! Commander!” Archer began to plead. 

Shepard pulled out the pistol and cocked it. “You…lowlife, abusive, liar, manipulative piece of shit,” she growled. 

“Commander--”

Shepard aimed at him. "Release his bindings or I shoot you in the head."

“You’re bluffing.”

She took the safety off with her thumb. "Far from it," she snarled. “Release his bindings or I shoot you in the head.”

“Commander--”

She let one shot near his ear, sending him scrawling onto the ground. It was enough for him to jump. Enough for him to scream. Enough for the ringing in his ears that she knew was going to last him for a few agonizing moments until he was going to die. Which was soon, anyways.

"Release his binds or I will shoot you in the head!"

“I’m begging you. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Rash?” Shepard began to stalk towards Archer slowly. Too slowly. “Rash, like forcing your own brother into an experiment?”

“I know how this must look, but I never intended any harm to come to him. You must believe me.”

“I don’t believe jack shit that comes out your fucking mouth.”

“If I’d told you the truth, you would have shut me down.”

“If you told me the truth, I would have slit your throat.” Shepard cracked her neck. “Maybe it is a good thing that we are talking like this. Maybe it is. Because I can at least see you scream.”

“It’s not like I planned this. It was an accident. Seeing David communicate with the geth... it all seemed harmless.”

“You took advantage of him.”

“I had no choice! The demands were incredible. The Illusive Man doesn’t broker failure! David wanted this!”

“You fucking liar! I saw his memory -- he begged you not to do this! And how many have already died for this project? Eh? How many would suffer?! You made him suffer!” Shepard snapped. 

“The damage may not be permanent. He might recover some semblance of his mind.”

“You want to continue this?! You want to make your brother into a lab rat.”

“But a well-cared for lab rat. At least he’d still be alive.”

“So you’ll sacrifice your brother’s happiness for your own ambition?”

“Yes. More souls than will ever forgive me. But I won’t apologize for radical ideas.”

Shepard let out a laugh. A bitter, dangerous laugh. 

“When they pray for a miracle, they’re... really praying for men like me to make the tough choices. People who were too afraid to make difficult decisions themselves.”

“Were you?” 

“Yes. Yes! What I’ve done to David is unethical. If he dies, it’s unforgivable. Let me take care of him. Please!”

“Quiet -- please make it stop.” David’s sob broke through. “Please, make it stop…”

“I will,” Shepard said to David. 

And Shepard turned and shot Archer in the lung. Another in his stomach. And one near his heart. Either way, he will die. She leaned over him.

“In case you haven’t caught on, you’ll die soon, but slowly. And I will leave you here, to stare into nothingness, so you can have the slim experience of the pain you made your brother went through.” 

He began to reach for the fallen pistol of his. No doubt to end it all or shoot Shepard. But his moves were too slow. Too sluggish. Shepard picked it up and emptied the thermal clips and tossed the empty gun away into the opposite side of the room. 

Archer could barely breathe. “If my work spares a million mothers mourning the loss of a million sons, my conscience will rest easy.”

“Nah, I don’t say the same for your soul.” And Shepard shot Archer in the throat.

Shepard holstered her gun and went to release David. She unhooked the clasps from his eyes first. There were tears down his skin. This was nothing like the handsome young man she had seen in the photos. Nothing like it. He was younger than her.

She undid the rest of his bindings and let him fall into her arms. He was just bones, with barely any skin. He was trembling.

He held onto Shepard’s arm, his head tucked against her neck.

“I got you, David,” she said gently. “I got you.”

He cried still, but he held on tighter. 

“Is that…”

“Yeah.”

Garrus let out a punched breath. “Spirits…”

“I know.” Shepard's voice was shaky. 

“I got him,” he said.

Jack went to Shepard and pulled her to the side.

Shepard knew from the start that Jack would be the most affected. The wounds still felt too raw since the base. They were spending a lot more time together since then. A level of friendship that Shepard would have not anticipated when she brought her in.

But Shepard did not think that she would be crying the hardest too.

Shepard gave the hugs. She got them from her family. From her mother, from Anderson. 

But in the battlefield, Shepard gave the hugs. She was the one who comforted.

It was not until the SR-1 onward that she finally was the one being comforted too.

Jack pulled her into a hug.

Shepard tried to muffle her tears against Jack’s neck. She could not do this. She couldn’t do this. Jack was so strong. So strong. The biggest heart that she denied to have.

“Deep breaths,” Jack said gently.

And Shepard cried harder.

“I know, Margaret. I know...” Jack reached up and smoothed down Shepard’s hair. “Deep breaths.”

Shepard could not breathe.

“Deep breaths,” Jack repeated. She let go of her and held her shoulders. “Deep breaths, okay? We’re almost home, we got David, it’s gonna be okay. Deep breaths.”

Home. The SR-2 was home. A home that David did not have, a home that was ripped from him. A sense of safety that Cerberus took from him--

“He doesn't--He---Oh god, oh god. Oh god. Is that what made me? Is this who I am? Cerberus--” Shepard could barely breathe.

The terrible words from Kaidan rang back to her. The words she tried not to think of.

Jack reached up and wiped her tears from her cheeks. The smeared mascara came along with it, dusting onto her thumbs. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “Deep breaths. We’re going to be okay.”

Shepard nodded. She wanted to believe it.

“Shep---”

A faint groan got both Jack and Shepard’s attention. 

“Shep--ard…” David reached out. Though he could not lift his head. He reached out a hand for Shepard, in the direction she was ushered at when Garrus was getting the IV.

“You alright to go?” Jack asked. 

Shepard sniffled, but she nodded.

“Okay, I’ll go with you,” Jack said. She held her hand, like Shepard had held hers in the base. “He needs you.”

“He needs us,” Shepard said. “Thank you.” And they both walked to David.

Shepard carried him into the medbay. He had a medical blanket on him, but he refused to let his head be covered. He refused to stay on the gurney. The grip was so tight, Shepard could feel it through her armor.

Joker saw her. Her broken expression. The mascara she knew that was dusted around her red eyes from crying with Jack. Eyeshadow and mascara messes that matched with Jack's. 

"Oh baby..." Joker trailed off. Shepard tried not to cry at that. Rather than not falling into his arms and hugging tightly, she nodded at him. She hoped the action did not let the tears roll down again.

She saw the terrified looks from the crew. The shocked gaze from Miranda. Good. Let her balk. Let her realize this. Let her feel guilt in her soul for all this. 

David got scared once arriving in the medical bay.

“Hey David, you’re gonna be alright. This is Dr. Chakwas. She is here to help you get stabilized,” Shepard said softly. 

He gripped her hand.

“I won’t be going anywhere," Shepard said. And she meant it. She would have to make up for the missed dinner later.

Hey Anderson,

I took down a Cerberus operation. 

His name is David. His brother experimented on him. He is in rough shape. It is torture, sheer torture. It breaks my heart.

Dr. Chakwas is stabilizing him as best as she can, but he can't stay long term. He needs deep, deep, deep care. The most compassionate people available. He is a brilliant, talented young man who deserves better than this. He’s making a slow recovery. He’s talking more. He’s very sweet.

Can you help me?

- Maggie

Margaret, 

Leave him to me. Grissom Academy is made for cases like his. I’ll reach out and let them know so he can decide.

Good work.

--David

“David!” Shepard greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” David smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“So where do I go now?”

“You ever hear of Grissom Academy?” 

David thought about it, then he brightened. “Yes! I applied there many years ago!”

Before Cerberus wrecked his life. 

“You’ll be going there. They’ll help you out.”

“No more doctors?” David asked. Hesitant. 

"Only the good ones. Like Dr. Chakwas. And professors too. You'll have teachers and students. They want to help you and they will be so happy to work with you.”

“I’ve always wanted to work with them,” David said. “They have a great physics program. They still have it, right?”

“Yes. Are you okay with going to Grissom?”

“I am! Will you visit?”

"Yes,” Shepard said. “We’ll stay with you awhile to help you get settled. But when I can, I will. These are good people. Good technicians. You’ll love it.”

“Alright.” David nodded. 

Jack stood against the wall next to the medical cabinet. She did not leave Shepard’s side. 

“And you are---”

“Jack,” Jack said. 

“Thank you,” David smiled. He reached out his hand. 

“No problem,” she said. Her voice was shaky. But earnest. 

Jack took it. And held it just as tightly as he held hers. 

Shepard found herself where she was going more often lately. 

With Jack.

Cerberus only felt more sickening to her by the passing day. She wanted to rip off the colors from her sleeves. She despised this. Despised the circumstance of being alive again with their banner. Kaidan's words kept echoing. This only got worse and worse. 

Jack agreed that Cerberus was only more worse than she thought. Just deeper and deeper rot.

“This---This is why Cerberus needs to fucking die. This is why. All the more reason for it. And we can take them down, from within. I know we can. But Shepard...you overthink too much.”

“What?”

“You. You get stuck in your own head a lot. I know you can't help it, but Girl Scout, you gotta get out of your head. Fuck what Lawson has to say, fuck the Illusive Man. You, Margaret, are the only person in this universe with more wrath in your veins to tear these fuckers to shred. Fuck around. Let them find out. Be angry, for fuck’s sake. Cry it out. Laugh it out. Get that fire out.

“I don’t know who told you that your wrath needs to be tampered down. But it’s time to swing back.  If not for yourself, then for me. You gotta swing back. You're a spacer, girlie. There's more to this galaxy than your head."

"I don't know how," Shepard said. 

"Lucky for you, I do. Come on, girl scout. Get that compassion and turn it into wrath. Enough of people trying to tell you shit. Let’s shake shit up. Aren’t you tired of being nice? Come on. You don't lie, ever. So you ready to cut the bullshit and let the world see your honest wrath?”

“I sure am,” Shepard said. “Let’s fuck ‘em up.”

Chapter Text

“Where’s Garrus?”

“I dunno,” Jack said. “He’s been in bed, last I saw.”

Shepard went down to Garrus’ room in the battery.

How the battery was a comfortable place for Garrus, she did not know. The little room was tucked into the side. Barely visible, really. Even she had missed it during her first few walkthroughs of the ship. It was always a warm place, as well as a quiet one. And Garrus was always bitching about the cold.

After going to the Citadel, it turns out that Garrus did need hearing aid adjustments. And a new one for the inside of his ear with more volume control, another adjustment setting for his visor. And the definite lesson; wear a fucking helmet. 

The battery was a low hum next to the hum of the normandy. Shepard had asked Garrus how he could sleep through it. White noise helps, according to him, when your ears are trying to rest and your tinnitus is driving you up the wall. That made more sense. Sometimes, Joker fell asleep at the helm when on autopilot or when he was parked in the dock and too exhausted to go to his bunk. 

And the fish tank helped Shepard sleep too.

Shepard gently kicked on the bottom of the door with her boot as a knock.

“Garrus, it’s me.”

The door hissed open.

“Hey,” Garrus greeted. 

“You alright?”

“Tired,” Garrus said. “The mission was draining.”

“Scoot over.”

Garrus did.

“Are you okay?” Shepard asked. Garrus looked exhausted. He was exhausted. Just in his bed, with blankets. A television set was on his desk and he was half watching it. Middle volume and large captions.

“Am I?” Garrus asked. “No clue. I’ve been in bed all day.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No,” Garrus said. “Not in the mood for it. Just a lot on my mind…”

“What is it?”

“When I left the Citadel, I was not in the best shape…Not physically. Nor mentally, emotionally….You would think a tragedy would bring us together…Truth is that it drew me and Tali apart. Tali blamed herself, I blamed myself. We could not bear the loss. Then I left. We had a fight and then she got back to the Migrant Fleet. I left."

“You shouldn’t have blamed yourselves.”

“Inevitable, Shepard. But I’ve made my peace with not blaming myself anymore. I’m happy you’re back. Even if it's Cerberus….But it’s not the old crew. You know? It’s not the old girl. I miss Liara. Wrex. I miss Ashley. Kaidan….No, I don’t miss him. Especially after Horizon.”

Especially.

“I  just…I miss her. I miss Tali. I want her here.”

“Garrus. I just got the dossier to recruit Tali.” She handed him the datapad.

“Wait WHAT?!”

“That’s why I came here!” Shepard laughed. “I wanted to share the good news!”

“You’re serious?!”

“Yes! Garrus! Get the fuck up! We’re gonna save your girlfriend!”

“We’re going to save Tali?!”

“We’re going to save Tali!”

Garrus laughed, then sniffled. “Shit, man. The timing the Spirits has just gotten worse and better.”

“Come on, bud, it’s gonna be alright. Let’s get your girlfriend back! And let's get you something to eat on the way.”

\\\\

“Shepard, our data indicates that Tali is somewhere in these ruins. There is considerable geth activity, and an environmental hazard. Solar output has overwhelmed Haestrom’s protective magnetosphere. Exposure to direct sunlight will damage your shields. Solar output has overwhelmed Haestrom’s protective magnetosphere. I recommend limiting your exposure to a few hours at most.” EDI informed.

“I’m getting a suuuuuuuuuu buuuuuurn!” Kasumi sang out. “I hate it!”

“I’m having serious issues with my shields,” Garrus said. His voice was slightly muffled behind the helmet. It took some wrestling to have him keep it on, but he did anyways.

“That would be the sun,” EDI said.

“No shit,” Garrus responded.

“If we stay in the shade we should be fine.” Shepard said. “We do stealth.”

“And I’m wearing black. Can we get in the shade, please?” Kasumi asked. 

“You wear all black to a mission with solar issues?” Garrus asked, voice completely deadpan. “Woooooooow.”

“Better than you, asshole!” Kasumi snapped out. 

“You sound like a Chihuahua when you curse. Don’t ever do it again.”

Kasumi flung a rock at him and hit his armor.

“OW! WATCH THE HEARING AID SLASH VISOR!”

“I hit your leg, stupid! And you are wearing a fucking helmet!”

“Come on, Garrus, fight smarter. Not harder! Shepard, get us to a path with some shade!” Kasumi exclaimed. "Before we leave this raptor behind!"

“Shade?! Shade?! I’ll make you see shade when I knock your ass out!” 

“I will turn this ship around,” Shepard snapped. “If you motherfuckers keep bitching about the sun!”

“OP-1, this is Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, come in, over! Anyone, please!”

“This Commander Shepard of the Normandy. I passed a lot of dead quarians on the way in. You’re the first survivors I‘ve found.”

“Holy shit! Wait, Shepard? The Shepard?! The Shepard Spectre Tali worked with? The Shepard?! Don’t know why you’re here, but right now, any organic is a welcome sight. Okay. Patch your radio into Channel 617 Theta. We were on a stealth mission. High risk. We found what we were after, but the geth found us.”

Oh god.

“Is Tali okay?!”

“I am trying to find out. They’ve got us pinned down. Can’t get to our ship, can’t transmit data through the solar radiation.”

“Our shields are taking a hit.”

“So is my skin,” Kasumi added.

“Wear sunblock,” Garrus rebutted. He sounded too anxious for Shepard's liking.

“Sun is burning up…Sounds about right,” Kal’Reegar said.

Shepard glanced at the flickering screen. She hoped that Tali was okay. “What’s the status of your team? How many of you are left?”

“We were a small squad. Dozen marines, plus the science team. We’re down to half-strength now. Made the synthetic bastards pay for it, though.”

“What brought you this deep into geth-controlled space?” 

“You’re asking the wrong person, Shepard. I just point and shoot.”

“We can be there in a few minutes.”

“As much as I really want to see you, and meet you, take it slow and carefully. Direct sunlight fries your shields all to hell. We’re bunkered down at base camp across the valley. I left Tali’Zorah at a secure shelter, then doubled back to hold the checkpoint. Getting Tali out safely is our top priority. If you can extract her, we’ll keep them off you.”

“You’re going to throw your life away for research?”

“Negative. I’m going to give my life for the Migrant Fleet. All the differences in the world. And I would die for Tali. She has the soul you would follow into war.”

“She sure does,” Shepard smiled. 

But combat only got more and more complicated. 

Garrus was fighting through it all. He was determined to get through all this. For Tali.

“The drones have camo. And here I was worried this would be too easy!” Garrus exclaimed. He was so impatient. At least it made him all the more determined to actually shoot at the enemies instead of the wall.

“Those drones have optical camouflage systems. Stay frosty…I could kill for a Frosty right now…” Kasumi sighed. “It’s so hot!” She popped out the clip from her pistol and reloaded. “I hate it here!” She shot down a drone. “I hate it here, Shepard! How are you not burning up?!”

“I am fed up, if that’s what you’re both wondering.”

“FUCK!” Shepard shouted out. “Get down!”

Shepard yanked down Kasumi next to her and took cover. 

“Leaving me to die? Definitely like old times,” Garrus said. 

“It’s always like this around you, isn’t it, Shepard?” Kasumi asked. She was sweating. 

“More or less,” Shepard said. She was out of breath.

The drone exploded, but not from gunfire that was not theirs. 

Shepard sat up and looked over the barrier. 

And there was Tali.

"Tali?!"

“SHEPARD?!”

Tali ran to her and hugged her tightly. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

“I was in the neighborhood. I thought you might need a hand,” Shepard smiled. “And I brought friends.” She stepped aside to let her see Garrus.

“Garrus?!”

Shepard could hear the softness in her voice. The one that always showed up when it came to him. 

“Garrus.” Tali’s voice cracked.

Garrus pulled her up into a hug. So tight, so warmly.  

“I’m so sorry,” Garrus blurted out. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m so sorry. I should have never done that. I regret that--”

“Garrus…”

“It was cruel of me to leave you out in the dark like that.”

“Garrus, there is nothing to be sorry about. Nothing. I’m here. I love you. I still love you. Nothing has changed,” Tali said. “Nothing---Nothing has changed.”

Garrus hugged her tightly. And did not let go. 

“I love you too,” Garrus said softly. “I love you too.”

“Cerberus saw footage of you in action, Tali’Zorah. We’re looking forward to having you on the team. Your engineering expertise will really benefit the mission.” Jacob had greeted her. 

“I don’t know who you are, but Cerberus threatened the security of the Migrant Fleet. Don’t make nice.”

“Likewise,” Kal’Reegar said. 

Shepard was so happy that he joined the party. It was amusing to have seen Garrus flare in alarm when Tali hugged Kal upon seeing his survival. As if the love confession in the middle of the burning battlefield did not just happen.

But in the shuttle, all Tali had done was sit next to Garrus. Not let go of him. Not at all. Sat on his lap too.

Garrus was more noticeably happier than Shepard had seen him in a long time. 

Shepard was so happy to have her back. “That’s why you’re here, Tali. I need people who aren’t Cerberus -- people I can trust.”

“Tali, I wasn’t part of what happened to the Migrant Fleet, but I understand your distrust. I hope we’ll get past that as we work together,” Jacob said.

“Hm. That was a statement you made,” Tali said. 

Shepard wanted to laugh so hard, but she kept it together. Jacob took the loss and left.

“Shepard, I assumed that you were undercover. Maybe even planning to blow Cerberus up. If that’s the case, I’ll loan you a grenade.”

“I’m working on it,” Shepard said. And winked. 

“Otherwise, I’m here for you. Not for them. Feel free to study the ship. Shepard: If it helps, check out the Normandy while you’re here. We’ve gotten a few upgrades.”

“I’ll get Tali’Zorah the necessary security clearance to access our systems. As well as Kal’Reegar.” 

“Please do. I can’t be part of your team if I don’t know how the ship works,” Tali said. 

Jacob nodded and left.

Kal stretched one arm carefully. The other was still against his body in the sling. “I’ll see you both soon,” he said. “I need to get something to eat.”

He left just Shepard and Tali.

“Remember, Shepard. These people thought enslaving thorian creepers and rachni was a good idea. Cerberus wasn’t our friend when we went up against Saren either.”

“I know. All that matters to me is that you’re here,” Shepard said. “We have so much to catch up on…But you need more to catch up on with Garrus.”

“You are correct. I’ll be in engineering….Maybe next week. I need to stop at the Medbay. Antibiotics. Supplements… I have not seen Garrus in two years, and you will not see me for two weeks!” Tali said. And she marched off.

Shepard laughed. Yeah, they'd be fine.

Chapter Text

It was almost midnight when Joker finally came to bed. 

It was a long day for Margaret as it was, with  ore Cerberus errands, more Cerberus bullshit. This, that, this, that. Margaret was annoyed. She was fed up. She wanted her boyfriend with her. She missed him.

Margaret was not asleep, though. Too busy staying up watching movies on the net. To “wind down.”

When truthfully, she was everything but that. 

“Sorry, honey,” Joker said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay,” Shepard said. “I was already awake.” 

Joker undressed and put his uniform away. He put his cap on the hook inside their closet. He sat down in bed next to her and kissed her as a greeting. She adjusted herself to be closer with him. Turned the greeting kiss into something more. 

Oh, this felt so good. So good. 

“Mm,” Shepard sighed. 

Shepard kissed him again. She felt a hand brush against her thigh.

She missed him so much. She slept next to him every day, or tossed and turned, but they have not spent more time together. So much to do. So much running around.

His breathing was speeding up again. His hips were flush with hers. His skin was so warm, so warm. So were his lips. She could live like this forever. 

Nothing else mattered in this galaxy right now. 

But there had not been any intimacy. Cerberus revived her and then proceeded to kill her sex life. How about that?

Was it almost three months since all this began?

"Jeff..." Shepard did not bother to hide her moan.

"You want to do more?" Joker asked her.

"Yes."

Joker's smile was beautiful. 

"Lay down, baby. I'll take care of you."

“I miss you so much.” Shepard finally shuddered out. 

“Shit, baby. I miss you too...”

Time passed. Shepard felt great. Better than she has in almost two months. She felt radiant. The sheets were changed and Margaret laid down in fresh ones. She would shower in the morning, before going back to work. Maybe. She was going to sleep in for sure. Jeff always fell asleep. He was the hardest to wake up in the morning, especially after sex like that.

But now, things were pretty calm. Quiet. Cleaning up was silent. And now, Margaret was ready to doze off.

Jeff laid his head onto her shoulder. His hair was tickling Margaret's neck. Breathing steadily, comfortably. No doubt falling asleep. He was flushed. Pink as a rose. Shepard made him feel that way. She was putty in his hands.

Oh...at this pace...

Margaret kissed his forehead and she pulled him in closer. Then he looked up to the screen that was right behind the ship display case...And sat up directly.

“Did we just have sex with Star Wars playing in the background?!”

Shepard busted out laughing.

“Margaret Shepard, did we--” Joker could not stop laughing. “Did we just have sex with Star Wars   in the fucking background?!”

“I forgot I had it on!”

“Goddamn it, Margaret! Rogue One?! It should have been Return of the Jedi ! What is wrong with you?!”

Shepard could not stop laughing. 

"What is wrong with you?! Why--Out of all the movies--Come on, Margaret!"

"Fuck you, Rogue One is the best!"

"It's not that it's bad! It's just---Seriously, Margaret?! Do you know how awkward it is gonna be if the crew picks this for movie night?"

Shepard snorted out laughter. "Awkward for you, maybe." She could not stop laughing. "I honestly forgot I had it on!"

"How could you forget you had on Star Wars?"

"Uh, because you fucked me? That's a bit of a distraction, don't you THINK?"

Joker sighed. "Jesus," he shook his head. He was even more pink from the laughter. "Oh my god, I'll never unassociate this now."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Shepard challenged. Maybe he would kiss her. Maybe he would fuck her again, all great responses. But she could not stop her laughter.

Joker caught on to her challenge. "You know what I'm gonna do about it?" Joker goaded.

"What?"

"I'm going to change the movie." Joker reached for the remote on his bedside table. "Can't believe this bullshit--No, it's fine. It's fine, baby, you go ahead and sleep. I'll be preoccupied here." He changed the movie on the queue.

"You're ridiculous. I'm not going to miss the movie...It's still a nice one." 

Joker got more comfortable.

"To think that this is what we thought was aliens. We were not too far from the truth...Kind of," Shepard said. She pulled Joker back into her arms. Blanket along with it. 

"I don't think they had to worry about reapers in that galaxy," Joker said. 

"Eh, I would not say that."

"What do you mean?"

"You have seen the theory behind the force, right?"

"I have not."

"I thought not. It's not a theory that the Jedi could---" Shepard began to giggle, but Joker kissed her neck instead.

"Tell me the theory," Joker said with a laugh. He looked at her. "I'm listening. Nerd."

Shepard flustered now. "Well, basically, the theory is that the Force is not a spiritual mist or a benevolent creature that is neutral, but exploited, but actually an infection and that the continous cycle of warfare and massacres are the ones that feed it?" Shepard asked. "The Old Republic, the Empire, the Alliance...All of it managed to fall in different forms, but always in war. It sounds like Reapers."

"The Sith are just the pawns for the Force!" Shepard said. "You really have not seen the theory?"

"I have not, Margaret. Because I have enough existentialism dread in this galaxy right here close right now than in a galaxy long ago, far, far away!"

"Honestly, we should have learned from the stories of before," Shepard said. She sighed. "Oh, Cassian...We're really in it now..."

"Margaret, you have the story all wrong. They did not have to worry about reapers. They had enough on their hands with one of the most potent issues in the universe."

"The gray morality between good and evil?" Shepard asked.

"Nope! Daddy issues!"

"Oh, goddamn it!"

"If only we had the Death Star to mess up the Reapers."

"Jeff, the Reapers are Death Stars."

"Fuck, fuck, I am making terrible connections here tonight!"

Chapter Text

Seventeen.

At 06:00 hours, the docking bay was empty on a Sunday. Jeff could feel the bench shaking slightly, his crutches rattling against his seat. Not of the station’s hum.  

He glanced over and saw Maggie's leg bouncing. Not impatience. 

It was of nerves. 

"Mags.

The bench stopped shaking.

"Sorry."

Maggie had been tugging on her hair the entire ride over, almost chewing on the lock. She used to do that. The tapping thing. Over and over.

"I don't want to do this."

"C'mere," Joker pulled her in for a final hug. "Message me when you land, okay?" 

(“I don’t want to do this,” Maggie had said to her. She had confided in him at night. When she was laying on the couch cushions she sat next to his bed. The door was still open, per his father’s rule. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be in the Alliance. I want to do science. I…I want to explore the stars with you. But not with a gun,” she whispered. “I want to see the galaxy outside this place. But not…not like this.”

“So why not leave?”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m a Shepard. I can’t walk away.”)

He should have told her then. I love you. If it meant anything. Did the words mean anything?

Three magical words. Yet he could not find the words to say it.

Can you stay?

Jeff watched as Margaret boarded off to the Academy, wherever it may end up being.

He did not say a single of those three words at all.

Then Shepard was aboard the Normandy. He forgot protocol.

“Maggie?”

“Jeff?!”

She raced over to him and pulled him in a tight hug. It took him by surprise, but he still returned it. Her smile was so radiant. So beautiful. 

“Holy shit, it really is you!” Shepard exclaimed.

“You’re the new officer on board?” Joker asked.

Seemingly everyone knew but him.

“He didn’t read his email,” Anderson supplied.

“I didn’t read my email.”

“You two know each other?”

“We’ve been best friends since we were babies,” Shepard said cheerfully.

I was in love with her since I can remember.

“Birds of a feather flock together,” Anderson deadpanned. “Who’s gonna make me gray first?”

“Jeff.” Shepard had said.

“Margaret.” Joker had answered. 

“It's a draw. I dread you both,” Anderson deadpanned and the tour kept going. 

“We'll catch up later,” Shepard said.

“Absolutely. I'm so happy to see you,” Joker smiled. "I'll see you soon."

She squeezed his hand and kept going.

“I don't think I've seen you smile so much since I've known you,” Kaidan had said. “Hell. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile at all.” 

“That’s an ironic statement that maybe one day I’ll talk about why. But yeah, me and Maggie have kept in touch the way we could through emails and even then, there wasn't a guarantee she could answer. Alliance business and all.”

“Maggie…Wait. Maggie is Shepard? That's Shepard? Commander Margaret Shepard, hero of the Skyllian Blitz, is the Shepard you talk about?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Joker said. “But she doesn't use Margaret that much.”

“You’re best friends with the Commander Shepard, and you never told me about it?”

Joker blinked. “Um, it’s just…Shepard.”

Then it hit him. This was the reaction that Shepard was talking about. This was what Margaret dreaded since she realized the glamor behind her name was of a powerful legacy. The schoolyard girl who punched her way through fights to defend him. Who sat with him and talked. Played. Laughed. Yelled at. Toy ships, cool rocks. Star maps and everything she could find. 

Then as a twenty-year-old, with her messaging him at the odd hours. Cute pictures of rocks she found. Playing around with weird frogs she worked with during her semester in the freshwater marine biology sector. She loved koi fishes. Just loved them. She could talk about them all the time to him. She wanted an aquarium, with fishes, with all the fishes in the world. Just to herself. Fishes, space. He knew about her love for koi fish since he could remember. 

But she was picky.

She did not want a koi pond until she had a proper home. A home with a foundation, with roots. With solid ground she could step on. Only then, she would make her koi fish pond happen. She was adamant about it, in every Thanksgiving dinner, every birthday conversation, every Sunday and tax holiday that it came up.

Yes, she had cried when her first goldfish died. Cried hard. His mother was witness, as was a very confused three-year-old Gunny at why Maggie was crying about a dead fish. She cried to him again at nineteen because she accidentally overfed a fish and now it was sick. He was torn between laughing and crying with her. If she cried, he cried. But he liked to make her laugh too.

Sometimes, he fell asleep to the sound of her voice. 

She always fell asleep to his too.

“Commander Shepard is incredible,” Kaidan kept going. “She’s…The stories I’ve heard about her, man. She saved so many people that day.”

“Yeah, she’s a hero.”

The classes got more intense. The lives more hectic. Shepard always reached for him, and he reached back.

Then the Blitz happened. Maggie...changed. After that. 

“And Captain Hannah Shepard too…Wow. Commander Shepard is going to be just like her,” Kaidan said with a smile. Like they had solved this problem they face now.

There it was. There it was.

In ten minutes, Joker went from feeling excitement of seeing his best friend to feeling complete dejection at realizing that this was the burden she never wanted for the sake of just being born under a powerful family name. 

So, this is what it was like.

The feeling was a slow crawl of silent reality. Just knowing. So. This is what it was to be a Shepard. This is what it was like to be seen without her there.

And even then, it was only a fraction. He had a feeling, with her past, that it was more than what he felt at the moment. And the moment was pretty strong. 

“Yeah.” Joker focused on the next destination and to follow the trajectory map. “She sure is.”

When he saw her break the professional demeanor to squeeze him in a hug, he did not think it was anything more than platonic that she felt for him. They did keep in contact, as well as one could. Twelve years. Ten years. It did not matter. 

The Normandy SR-1 was special to him. His girl. He felt like he wasted time being so stuck in his head, when he could have well...been giving Margaret head instead. 

Now, in the SR-2, he woke her up with kisses across her stomach, with her warm smile greeting him as he kissed his own against her skin. Her stomach was softer than it used to be back when she was with the Alliance. More softness over muscle. More relaxed. 

As stressful as these past few months have been, Shepard was finally relaxed.

Granted, her current state of dried sweat and pleased smile after the past few nights of catching up on lost time…it might have something to do with it. 

Now, in its own way, this felt like their shore leave. When they could not keep their hands off each other for days on end. Watching television turned into Joker eating her out on the couch. When innocent (INNOCENT, Shepard had claimed) strawberry tasting from her tongue in a sly kiss turned into something more with her hand under his waistband, feeling him up until he could not take it and he practically shoved her into the bedroom. 

Her laughter, her giggles. Him accusing her of being into this shit, as he bit down her neck and got payback with his own hands under her skirt. The laughter turned into moans, Shepard now being the begging mess beneath him, somehow stumbling their way into his bedroom. 

“You’re so easy to rile up,” he had said one night. “So easy to make you fluster. So cocky on the field, yet---”

“It’s only because it's you,” she had admitted. 

“So had I touched you like this the night you first came aboard the Normandy---”

“I would have died and begged for more,” she gasped as he brushed against a particular spot. “Shit, Jeff---” Words failed her at that point.

Not that they mattered much anyway. Not when her kisses and rapid gasping said it all. Now when she kissed him so hard, like her life depended on it.   

Things were going quite well, then.

There were going better now.

Shepard felt she had it together.

Until Horizon.

“Hero of the galaxy, first human spectre. Champion of the Citadel. You're standing in the presence of a god. But also, a ghost.”

“Kaidan,” Shepard said softly.

Without waiting, she ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You're alive,” she said softly.

“So are you.”

But as quickly as the moment started, it ended as well.

“It’s been too long, Kaidan. How have you’ve been?”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You’re dead for two years, and you suddenly show up now sporting Cerberus colors, and that’s all you have to say?” 

“It's a complicated situation.” 

One that she still did not even know how to process.

“Is this where you were for the past two years? With Cerberus?”

“I barely woke up three weeks ago. I can explain.”

“Explain what? That you went rogue? That you're a traitor?”

“Kaidan, no. I’m not---I’m not a traitor.”

“No. Kaidan, you know me. You know me. You know I’d only do this for the right reason.”

“This is Cerberus! Where does reason come into this?!”

“You saw it yourself. The Collectors are targeting human colonies and they're working with the Reapers."

“I want to believe you, Shepard. But I don't trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you. Hell, what if they're behind it? What if they're working with the Collectors?”

“Shepard, we lost you. We grieved you. You died and it broke all of our hearts.”

“I know,” Shepard said. “I know and I’m so sorry.”

Kaidan pushed her hand away.

“This--this isn't happening. It's not. You died. Damn you, Shepard. I trusted you. We all did. And you join Cerberus? You could have called me! Wrote to me!”

“I spent the past two years knocked out on a fucking operating table. I've only been awake for less than three weeks.”

“I told you this. I couldn't find you. I asked around everywhere to track my old crew down.  Even in Omega----”

“What the hell were you doing in Omega?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with these attacks!”

“This isn’t like you. You show up after two years of being dead and tell me you're working with Cerberus.”

“We’re on the same side,” Maggie said. “Kaidan, you know me.”

“I don't. You’re not the real Shepard. Not my Shepard. The one I knew died two years ago.”

The words hit harder than any bullet ever would. For once, Maggie faltered for a response.

The shock of the words confirmed her worst nightmare. Confirmed that--

“You want to repeat that again?” Garrus asked. He still had his rifle out, but not yet aiming. But his tone said it all; he was ready to kill Kaidan. 

“Right. Garrus, now Archangel, for lost causes,” Kaidan glowered. “You with Cerberus?”

“No. With Shepard,” Garrus said. 

“I am not a lost cause,” Shepard said. Though her tears were burning past her eyes. 

“You are,” Kaidan said. “Unlike you two, I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always have, always will be. I've got to report back to the Citadel. They can decide if they believe your story or not.”

“But do you believe me?” Shepard asked. 

“Never.”

It was a rare moment of wrath, that Shepard felt. And for once, she let go of it...just a little bit.

“So much…for having the back of the girl who cried reaper,” Shepard began. 

Kaidan stopped in his steps and turned to face her.

“So much for having the back of the one person who would throw herself into the line of fire, for you,” Shepard strode up to him. “So much! So fucking much! For you to turn around and do this!” She snarled. “Fuck you! You are just as bad as the fuckers in the galaxy who denied Saren! Who denied the Reapers! You are what makes this galaxy worse!” 

“You have the audacity to say that to me.”

“And you have the audacity to call me a lost cause!” Shepard snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re crossing a thousand different lines that you should not even think about right now.”

The communication on Shepard’s arm gauntlet buzzed. 

“Shepard?” Joker’s voice finally broke through. The signal was restored.

Kaidan froze.

“Is that why Joker stopped contacting me? To join Cerberus?”

Shepard muted Joker. He didn't have to hear the rest of this.

“Wow. Woooow,” Kaidan let out an unimpressed chuckle. A humorless one. “I should have known. He’s with Cerberus now. Just like you.”

“Say what you want to say about me,” Shepard stabbed a finger against Kaidan’s chest.  “But don’t you dare say a damn thing about Joker.”

“He's blindly loyal to you, do you realize that?” Kaidan asked. “He’d follow you into hell, no questions asked. So of course, he followed you into Cerberus. Given of him to rebel---”

“Rebelling is the only way!” 

“But to take advantage of his loyalty to yo---” 

Shepard lifted her hand and let the biotic wave emit from her fingers. Enough to push Kaidan back a few paces, to send him scrambling to the floor. The old trick taught in the academy; to trip the ankles with biotics or shoot down their knees. 

Kaidan looked hurt.

Good. 

Shepard wiped away her biotics in a quick snap. But the impact was already done. 

“You disgust me and disrespected me in every single way possible in the past seven minutes. You wear those colors and you let them blur the values in your blood. Alliance this…Alliance that. Where are the solutions, Kaidan? Where’s the Council? Where’s the fucking commission? Where’s the Armada?! Where’s the action taken to prevent humanity from being harvested?! Oh wait! THERE IS NONE!” Shepard snapped. 

Shepard left Kaidan like that. On the ground, without answers. 

“Joker. Bring the Normandy around to the port. I've had enough of this place,” Shepard said into her visor. 

"Roger that, Commander."

Shepard kept going and did not bother to look back.

Chapter Text

Shepard had already wiped off the smeared mascara in the shuttle. Already bit the sobs into her hand that still had bite marks. Hid in the bathroom of the shuttle as she cried and suffocated her sobs. Her mind was weird. Her brain felt weird. Phantom touches. 

Fuck the Illusive Man. Fuck Samara. Fuck. Fuck.

This was not good. 

Shepard made it through her debrief even though all she wanted to do was strangle the Illusive Man. She made it through walking in the hallway to check in on Samara and have her coldly say her thank you. Her difficulty as a mother. How she knew that Morinth could get to that level yet did not quite consider it.

Shepard wanted to strangle her too.

She walked numbly to Joker.

“I’m glad things worked out, Commander. I was worried you’d dump me and Samara for some crazy soul-sucker with a death fetish, all lithe and sexy and...never mind.”

“Am I a joke to you?!” She snapped.

“Wait! Babe! I was joking! For legal reasons, that was a joke! Honey, I'm sorry…Are you okay?"

Joker was alarmed.

“Margaret?”

"I’m fine!” Shepard snapped. “Go fuck yourself.”

"Maggie---"

"Fuck off!"

She walked out of the cockpit and with a strong biotic flick, shut the doors behind her. She stormed across, ignoring all the scared expressions on the crew as she went to the elevator. She needed to shower. She needed to drown. To clean herself up. Clean, clean, clean. Top floor. The very top. The attic with a small railing. 

"Shepard---" Edi cut in.

"Shut up."

"Shepard, I am detecting extremely high heartbeats."

"Shut up! Just shut up! Leave me alone. Leave me the fuck alone!"

She couldn't breathe. Phantom hands, phantom touches. No scratch could get rid of it. She kept scratching. Biting at her thumb did not work. She kept scratching and scratching. Her legs--her thighs---

Morinth----

She couldn't stop crying. 

Shepard couldn't make it five paces before getting to her door.. 

“Do I call someone?”

“No!” Shepard snapped. “Leave me alone.”

Her own hands felt like it was from a furnace as she took her clothes off. She shakily went into the shower.

She let herself cry.

 She sat on the floor and sobbed as the water soaked down her skin. She didn’t care. She dimmed the lights and just let the water pour down on her. 

Curled up on the floor and letting everything wash over. She let the water pour over her. No amount of soap made her feel clean. Nothing. Nothing. Phantom hands, phantom touches that were real. She scrubbed at her legs and her thighs. They burned and nothing felt better.

Shepard made it out. 

She went to the bar and started drinking. 

What specifically, she did not know. But she was drinking. She didn’t care that she threw up her food an hour ago. She was not okay.

Someone must have talked since Jack showed up at the bar.

“Hey. So....It's not like you to be so...so down.”

“We all have bad days,” Shepard said.

“No, this is different. Something's up.”

I count things. A little too much. I lost autonomy. I lost control. 

"Are you alright? I came to check on you," Jack said.

“Did Joker send you?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking coward.”

“Hey. He’s worried too,” Jack said. She sighed and sat down on the stool next to her. “Maggie, what happened?”

"Nothing.”

“But you're upset."

"It's nothing. I'm over it," Shepard said. She drank another shot. It was not strong enough. 

Jack sighed. "You know, you can talk about it."

"About what?"

She kept tapping her fingers. She couldn't look at Jack right now.

"You know about what," Jack said.

"Is this an intervention?" Shepard asked with a bitter laugh. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about anything." She missed the counting and started over again. "Nothing to talk about! At all! I don't like to talk about this kind of thing right away, especially when it's me. Me, Margaret! Me! Maggie! Nothing--Nothing! There is nothing to talk about!” Her laugh was too dangerously close to tears. She couldn’t stop laughing.

Couldn’t stop tapping. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. 

She missed the count. Worthless. Worthless. 

“My autonomy! My---” Shepard could barely breathe past the words. “My control. Cerberus took that from me as well? I have to do this for a galaxy that doesn’t give a shit about what goes on? Cerberus lets me get used?”

“Oh god. Margaret...”

“Morinth put her hands up my fucking dress. She put her hands on me,” Shepard whispered. “In me.”

“Oh my god.”

Shepard laid her head on the bar and just let her sobs out. And she finally broke.

“She slid her hands up my dress. And I was frozen. Fucking frozen. I could not do a goddamn thing. I did not know what to do. Samara's stupid-ass took too long and she kept moving her hand. And Jeff’s stupid ass cracks a shitty joke about it. He didn’t know, but still. Still. I don’t---” Shepard looked up at Jack. “I don’t know what to feel. It was not--It is not bad enough for me to break down like this.”

“Maggie. Maggie, baby, don’t say that. None of it was your fault. Freezing was not your fault. The fact that you were molested is not your goddamn fault.” 

“I feel so stupid,” Shepard admitted. 

“If I was in your shoes and that happened to me, would you call me stupid?”

Shepard balked. “No! Never!”

“Then don’t say it to yourself,” Jack said with a sniffle. She reached over the bar for a fistful of napkins. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Let me take care of you.”

The drinking was cut off effectively by Jack. Shepard had food, somehow. She raised the coffee table to a comfortable level to eat from. Jack stayed at her side. 

Jack’s arm was hooked with hers. She was not letting go.

Shepard knew the hangover from the breakdown and the alcohol would hurt tomorrow morning. But she was so tired.

“I want to go to bed.”

“I’ll take you,” Jack said. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, it’s alright,” Shepard sighed. She was exhausted. “You helped me a lot. Thank you.”

Finally, time had passed as Shepard settled into bed. She felt slightly more calm enough to call Jeff. 

He was worried. 

"I'm sorry."

“Not your fault,” Shepard said. Fault. A word that was said so frequently today that she felt it lost meaning. “Do you remember when we were in the third grade and we had that project to map out Andromeda?” 

“I do,” Joker said, completely surprised. A specific memory, yet he remembered every detail of it.

They would go down to the food court with their backpacks full of unfinished homeworks and plastic ships that needed to be played with.  But that day was a project. A big project due the following morning. They took the food to go and ended up in Shepard's bedroom with the project forgotten and just laughing all evening with the ships.

The galaxy looked so massive then, along with Andromeda in the corner. They laid down on the ground and watched the star map above them.  There was no Reaper threat, no Normandy, no Alliance. They were just them. Maggie and Jeff, seeing the stars in the ceiling of her bedroom, planning to travel them someday. But always together.

"It's a good memory," Shepard said. "It makes me smile. And it just...it reminds me that it was always us. It will always be us. Nothing in this galaxy will ever have me hate you. Nothing will ever make me feel ashamed of you. You are my heart. My soul. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Joker finally said.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

"I'm sorry that I made you cry."

"It was not your fault. I want to explain this to you.”

Beyond the mission. Beyond the drinking. They needed to communicate.

"I'm listening," Joker said. And Shepard let him in.

Chapter Text

When she woke up, she went to Dr. Chakwas. Explained what happened between sobs and tears. Told her about the physical pain. How she feared that she was scratched down there and how everything hurt. 

Truthfully, she should have gone to her after the mission, but she was so shaken up. The burning between her thighs didn't go away.

And when she found blood in her underwear that morning, she broke down crying and feared the worst. 

She cried into her shoulder and effectively felt every single emotion of pain under the stars. It was horrifying. She was molested. Sexually assaulted. Attacked. All words couldn't describe the pain. The loss of autonomy. 

She shakily asked for the pelvic exam to check for injuries. She was scared. But wasn't this what she needed to do?

“We can do an X-ray or sonogram.”

“I want accuracy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do I call for Jeff?”

“Please do.”

Joker held her hand. There was numbing, painless cream. That would help. 

“I'm so sorry baby,” he said gently, voice hoarse from the previous night. 

Shepard felt tears fall past her temples and onto the cold wax paper on the table. This was horrible. She couldn't do this. 

“It's okay,” Shepard choked out. 

“You don't have to do this.”

“I need to know. It hurts so much.” 

She had a panic attack halfway. 

She covered her mouth with her free hand before to hide the sob. But then she was back in that horrible place, on the couch next to Morinth.

“Stop!”

Dr. Chakwas did. 

Shepard laid her legs on the table and closed them tightly and wept. 

“I can't do this.” She sobbed again. “This hurts so much.”

She got anti-anxiety medication. It helped. 

She laid down for the sonogram and ultrasound. Surely enough, she had mildly deep scrapes. Internal bruising. It would hurt for a while. But with treatment, she could feel better. 

It wouldn't leave a scar.

As for the emotion, though, that was already there and still bleeding.

Shepard didn't leave her bedroom for a week.

Her friends visited. She only tearfully told Tali and Garrus what happened—the details that she could not share with anyone else. They both cried. Tali held her, tightly.

Joker cried when she told him. Outright sobbed. Apologized endlessly for the joke. Wanted to help her feel better. She let him hold her. Though at first, the touch made her jump and she wanted to throw him onto the floor, but she remembered where she was. Who he was. The love of her life. Her boyfriend. Her partner, in every way that counted. 

She had nightmares that same night. Woke up with sobs stuck in her throat and horrible feelings crawling along her skin. Joker tried his best. But all she did was go to her restroom and take her clothes off. Take a freezing shower. Let it shock her back into reality. 

She went back to bed an hour later, cold and shivering, hair dry from her soundproof hair dryer and back into Joker's arms. The safest place in the galaxy. The safest place in the universe. Her universe was him. Her stars were him. 

I love you more than words could describe. 

She tried to sleep and fell in a restless slumber again. 

Jack sat in bed next to her that afternoon after she slept the anxiety medicine off, shoes off and sitting crisscrossed apple sauced. 

“Margaret, I…I was assaulted too.”

“Oh no…”

“I was really little. I don't remember much of it, but the pain was horrible. I remember the night sweats a lot, from the nightmares. But I know how you feel.”

“Does it ever go away?”

“I don't know,” Jack admitted. “It fades for a while. It…comes and goes. When you get scared, you remember it. A smell can set it off. A noise. For me, it is a hospital gown. Sheets like that…it's the worst. So I never sleep with sheets. Just blankets, thick ass blankets, y'know? It keeps me warm. It helps ground me.”

“Is that why you picked your spot downstairs?”

“Absolutely. It's toasty. Who cares if I wake up sweaty sometimes? I love my blankies. It's heaven for me. It…reminds me that I'm not in that place anymore.”

Now the folded blankets made sense.

“Thank you for letting me join the squad. You have no idea how you saved me, Mags. You saved my life. I always hoped that there was a light in this fucked up tunnel. And I found it. You are my light, Margaret Shepard. You saved me. And I thank you so much. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for saving me. I’m never going to leave your side, no matter what happens. Nothing in this galaxy or universe can ever make me hate you. We can get through this. I love you.” Jack leaned close and gave her a hug. “It may not feel like it now, but you have your family at your side. We got your back.”

Three weeks later, Shepard began to go back into a normal routine. Kind of. Small dossier missions, the next one being for a cryptic assassin named Thane. No last name on the dossier that she could remember.

Then, Shepard had to get a fucking email. 

From Kaidan. 

Shepard,

I'm sorry for what I said back on Horizon. I spent two years pulling myself back together after you went down with the Normandy. It took me a long time to get over my guilt for surviving and move on. 

You were standing in front of me, but you were with Cerberus. I guess I really don't know who either of us is anymore. A lot has changed in the last two years and I can't just put that aside.

But please be careful. I've watched too many people close to me die -- on Eden Prime, on Horizon, on the Normandy.... I couldn't bear it if I lost you again. If you're still the woman I remember and admire so much, I know you'll find a way to stop these Collector attacks. 

But Cerberus is too dangerous to be trusted. Watch yourself.

Take care.

--Kaidan

Shepard was a little too angry to be courteous. She was already not feeling in the best of moods.

So she got to typing aggressively as soon as she read it.

Kaidan.

I spent the past two years knocked out on a fucking operating table, getting rebuilt from what was left of me! And yet you have the audacity to tell me to watch myself? Watch myself?! I should say that to you! 

You made me doubt everything. You made me doubt myself. You made me feel a lack of worth. So, no. I will not watch myself. You better watch yourself. Asshole. Because while you’re here being the errand boy for the same Alliance that told us to go fuck ourselves, I’m here to save the galaxy and find out why these colonies are missing! 

Fuck you, Kaidan Alenko. 

I hope you go to hell.

Sincerely,

Margaret Shepard

Shepard hit send.