General Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect.
"Shit. Not another one of you." Joker hit the lights, illuminating the admittedly sexy woman in a catsuit that was lounging on his sofa. He hobbled to his fridge instead of acknowledging her further and retrieved a six-pack of beer.
"Mr. Moreau, I am—"
"You think I don't know the insignia by now?" Joker sneered. He just wanted to sit and get drunk like every other night. "Look lady, the paperwork involved in getting the other two arrested was hell, so if you leave right now I'll leave Cerberus out of the breaking and entering report." He plopped down in his armchair, dropping his crutches, and groaning while he opened his first beer. His legs were killing him today. He looked up to see the Cerberus agent glaring at him, probably for his casual treatment of the intrusion; he smirked as he took a long drink and her glare intensified.
"I am Dr. Miranda Lawson, Head of the Lazarus Project, and I am about as happy to be here as you are to have me here. Unfortunately, despite providing him with several comparable alternatives, my employer is insistent that you are the only pilot he will accept. He is putting together a team for a very important mission of galactic significance. I am prepared to offer you—"
"Lady. I don't care. The others already offered me a piloting job and ungodly amounts of money, and, while sending a hooker to make the pitch is a creative idea, I'm still not going to work for terrorists." His visitor had jumped to her feet at the hooker comment and looked positively enraged. He chuckled and thumbed his comm. "You missed your chance, lady…Yeah, I need C-Sec in—" Suddenly, the whole communicator apparatus was painfully wrenched off his ear and sent flying across the room in blue blur. The lady in the white catsuit was apparently a biotic.
"I don't have time for this! There is actual work that needs seeing to. Mr. Moreau, if you value your life, you will shut your insubordinate mouth and listen to me."
Joker's face darkened considerably, and his affected nonchalance was replaced with anger and a certain amount of sadness, "And if I don't value my life?"
"Then you did an excellent job of fooling your Alliance therapist into thinking that you were more interested in atoning for your mistake than killing yourself," she replied coolly.
So, the witch had access to confidential Alliance files. He supposed that was only to be expected of an evil galactic terrorist organization. Frowning, he stayed silent and glared at the Cerberus woman.
"You are one the best human pilots in the galaxy, despite suffering from Type III Osteogenesis imperfecta. You hold many Alliance records, and you were part of Commander Shepard's crew during her mission to stop the rogue Spectre Saren. The Alliance grounded you, officially because of suspicions about your mental state, but mostly because disobeying the abandon ship order and causing Shepard's death blacklisted you." Joker flinched, trying to hide the pain that came from hearing the source of his constant torture spoken so matter-of-factly. Miranda noted but ignored the reaction, "We, on the other hand, want you to fly a state-of-the-art ship, and we are offering more than competitive pay. My position on the Lazarus Project allows me to also offer you a recently developed bone-strengthening procedure that will combat the effects of brittle bone disease. You could walk, Mr. Moreau, completely unaided—certainly more than the therapy guaranteed by the Alliance health benefits package has done for you."
Joker's patented leave-me-the-hell-alone glare was gradually lost to him, replaced by open-mouthed astonishment and a vague longing. To walk? To never use his crutches again? He closed his eyes, imagining it, but, as usual, his horribly vivid last memory of Shepard appeared on the back of eyelids instead of peaceful blackness or fantasies of walking.
Total silence as she floated away. The hose venting her precious air. The spasms. His tears. Watching that speck for hours. Alone.
He angrily blinked away the ghosts of the tears from almost two years ago, and focused his anger on the Cerberus agent. "My answer, lady, is still hell no. If you know all that shit about me, you should also know that no one from Shepard's crew is going to work for the organization she tried to take out! Most of the Alliance may be idiots, but at least they don't throw thresher maws at unsuspecting marines or shoot Admirals up with rachni acid. She counted you among the bad guys, and I kinda agree."
He folded his arms and leaned back, showing a defiant face. She had taken his comm unit, and he had no gun on him; even if he did, he wouldn't stand a chance against a biotic like her. Joker knew his carefully cultivated snark and a dash of bravado couldn't get him out of this one, but he would not betray Shepard. Oh, and he wasn't keen on being a bad guy either. But, most importantly, he would not betray Shepard's memory or her ideals, even to save his own life.
Miranda watched his performance—because that's exactly what it was—carefully. The stubborn, sarcastic, unfortunately noble moron wouldn't be swayed by money or any traditional form of bribery. It was no wonder that the others agents got themselves arrested. "I'm authorized to give you whatever you want in return for accepting this job," she probed.
"I told you! Nothing you can do will make me join Shepard's enemies." His eyes flashed, and Miranda had an idea. It was risky—a potential security breach. But, she smiled, if it didn't work, she could always shoot the bastard.
"Nothing, hm? Tell me, Joker, are you familiar with the story of Lazarus?"
~*v*~
Joker was on Lazarus station, again, standing at the window into Shepard's operating room. He had flown a few supply runs from various places to the top-secret facility in the past few weeks—all easy shuttle runs so far. Anyone with half a brain could've flown them. He hadn't been anywhere near the top-of-the-line ship Miranda had promised him a couple of months ago, but he didn't really care. Even walking didn't compare to getting to see Shepard again. Commander Shepard—with a beating heart, and a working brain. (At least, he was pretty sure that was the wiggling lines on the monitor hooked up to her head meant.) It was almost like he hadn't gotten the biggest hero in the galaxy killed. Almost.
He pressed his hand to the glass and whispered, "When you wake up, Commander, you're going to be pissed as hell. But, it'll be alright. I'll do whatever you need to make it alright. You deserve it. And I will never make up for what I did to you, but I'll try, Shepard, I'll try.
Joker tugged his cap down over his eyes, and limped away. He saw a scientist coming down the next corridor. "Hey you! Yeah, you, the squinty terrorist dude. Where's your queen-in-a-catsuit? I need my new flight orders."