Okay, I shall attempt a multi-chaptered fic. Wish me luck.

Well, I absolutely adore Joker, that much is apparent. Everyone seems to portray Shepard as a total Badass, but I though 'What if Shepard was actually a guilt-ridden, shy, nervous wreck'? She would need some sort of outlet for her misery. And along comes Joker!

This shall start at ME1, go through 2, and, with luck, 3!~ ...Review. It keeps me going. Anyway, enjoy.

- PJB

Sobs sent tremors through her muscled form. Tears left damp trails upon her tanned skin, staining her cheeks. Never would she be able to erase the memories from her mind. When was the last time she had survived a whole night without being haunted by them? The screams of her comrades, their hands scraping on the doors. They begged, they pleaded. But she didn't act. She just panicked. Cowered in the corner of the warehouse, her body coated with sweat. She practically oozed fear that day.

Everyone called her a 'hero'. Commander Dash Shepard, the survivor. But it was all her fault. The Thresher Maw would never have gotten her team if she'd helped, or at least let them hide with her. Every title, every commendation she received was just another shot of guilt. It was like she was on a guilt bender, forever hungover. A guilt-aholic.

She pressed the back of her shaved head against the cold wheel of the Mako. This was where she lurked when she had her nightmares. No one ever ventured down into the lower reaches of the Normandy until the early hours of the morning. Usually she would have scurried away by that point, putting her serious, military-woman mask back in place. If the crew noticed the dark circles under her eyes caused by her sleep deprivation, they didn't mention it, and for that she thanked them.

Pulling her blanket up to her chin, a shiver ran through Shepard's body. The downside of this part of the ship was the temperature. Always freezing. Something Shepard didn't completely understand about not overheating the machinery. They had explained it to her in more technical terms, but it had slipper her mind. She wrapped the thin material around her, nuzzling her face into the musky-smelling cotton and letting her head roll onto her shoulder. She didn't dare sleep, but she could just sit here and think until morning.

~o0o~

She was awake again. How many nights had she gone without sleep now? Joker had lost count. No wonder she was always so quiet and shaky when interacting with others. Yes, Joker watched her most nights. It was his 'quiet time', if you will. This late at night, no one entered the cockpit, all were asleep in the crews quarters.

Joker watched the woman upon the surveillance camera with great interest. He had barely even uttered a word to the Commander, let alone an actual in-depth conversation with her. She hadn't been on the ship for as long as he had, but she seemed to suit the job well.

That was, until night time. During the day she was a normal soldier. She got on with her work with no questions asked. Yes, she stayed silent most of the time, but Joker assumed it was because she was just strategizing deep in her mind. At night...that all fell apart. Her vibrant skin turned sickly pale and her plump lips were torn to shreds by her teeth. She would wander down into the bottom of the ship and stare into space, doing nothing more than stroking her blanket or pressing her forehead against the Mako.

This woman, notorious for being superior, a true role model for humans, had some serious issues, it would seem. She never spoke of any problems, nor did she try to fix them. All hours Joker would watch her. She never let on that anything was awry.

Joker knew it was wrong to invade her privacy like this, but he was intrigued. He wanted to get to the roots of the problem, but he didn't even know the woman. He didn't even know her full name! Everyone called her 'Dash' or 'Shepard'. What was 'Dash' short for, if anything? And Was she a nice person? A complete monster? He didn't know. One day he would talk to her and ask.

But for now, she was his little secret.