Joker wasn't a soldier. He was a pilot. He flew ships. That was the job description. He didn't shoot much (not that he couldn't), especially not now that EDI had taken over combat. He cracked wise and tried to make sure that they weren't blown up.

But these were desperate times. And he had boots to pull out of the fire.

"EDI, can you hold her for me?"

"Of course, Jeff," the AI responded with trepidation, "but what are you ―"

"You'll see. Just keep her steady." Standing, he scooped up the assault rifle he'd left leaning against his chair. She'd had shoved it into his hands on her way out and, though she claimed it was because she'd overpacked, he'd been able to read the worry plain on her face. And worry coming from her was never a good sign.

He limped toward the exit, gritting his teeth. Damn, but the thing was heavy, and the fact that he was more than a little sore from their rough landing didn't help, either. Leaning against the wall, he flipped on the comm.

Immediately, the Commander's labored breathing filled his ears. Then came an overtone of exchanged gunfire, the pounding of her boots, a muffled curse or two as she ran. "Shepard, what's going on down there?"

"They're ―" her voice dropped as she swallowed thickly, "everyone's dead. They're all dead. Shields're low, got shot in the leg back there ― shit, Joker, I ― " ...No. He couldn't help the faces that flooded his mind in monochrome, like the portraits you saw in obituaries.

Clenching his jaw, he tapped rapidly at the interface. There wasn't time to mourn. They had to move. "I'm sorry, Commander, I - I'll bring 'er around. Same place?"

"Yeah." Another voice filtered through the speakers, the same as before. Harbinger. He ignored it as best he could and pushed himself to his feet. "EDI, are we about there?"

"Yes, Jeff. Just a moment."

The hatch popped open just as the ship crested the slope where they'd left the squad, and he raised the gun. C'mon, you bastards. You won't take her, too. They weren't allowed. Not again.

Nine people went in, but she ran out of the base alone.

The place was falling apart already, and the ship wavered as EDI struggled to avoid falling debris. "Shepard!" He called, trying to give her some cover fire. The platform just below collapsed. He hoped she could clear the gap.

"EDI, can you ―"

"I will attempt to." She brought the ship as close as she dared. He slid into a crouch as she came nearer, arms and legs pumping furiously. She leaped running, and he leaned forward to grab her. And for one long, terrible moment, he thought she'd miss completely. Please, not again.

He caught her armored arm and bit back a groan as she fought to pull herself up. "Come on, ma'am, you're almost ―" Gunfire, a stinging pain in his shoulder, and she slipped from his grasp. No, no, no, not again, not again. She hung on, but by her fingernails. His shoulder screamed, but he had to help her, she couldn't ―

She held on, but only by her fingernails. He crawled over and grabbed onto her arm, trying to pull her inside. Please.

"Joker ―"

"Ma'am, it's fine, I've got you ―"

"You gotta tell them. They're coming. They're coming, and I won't be here to ―"

"You tell them! You're not doing this to me again!" She slipped again, holding on by a hand.

"I'm sorry."

She fell, and all he could do was watch her fade away again. He sat back in shock, shaking as he set the gun aside. EDI took the Normandy up and out in a mad dash to reach the relay in time. He didn't care. They might as well take him, too.

People had tried to kill Shepard for years, and they'd all failed ― geth, krogan, asari, mercs and rogue SPECTREs and Collectors and reapers, and they'd all failed.

And he, who wasn't a soldier, who was just a pilot, had managed to kill her twice.