Author's Note: So you all are probably going to kill me now aren't you? Starting yet ANOTHER FIC when I can't even finish the ones I have already started! Yeah I am really sorry about that, but the idea came into my head when I played the Mass Effect games again and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. Why can't my head stop?!

But I do hope you like it anyway, and bear with me on my other fics. I haven't exactly been...up to writing for a while (curse you, depression!) and just getting back into it again. I promise I will get to the others...eventually! I am so sorry everyone! I feel like I fail you guys for not finishing or working on my stories. Just know they will get done sometime! Until then, just read this and marvel and wonderful Shoker sadness! 3

Jeff 'Joker' Moreau didn't know how it all happened. One moment everything was quiet; stealth systems were engaged, no other ships in sight. The next moment, everything went to hell. Almost literally, in his mind.

To Joker, there was no worse kind of pain than seeing his ship torn apart. Especially when they had no identity of the enemy responsible. It was the greatest of injustices; the Normandy deserved better than to be blown up without knowing who the killers were. She was a great ship, the best ship in the Alliance fleet, driven by the best damn pilot in the Alliance fleet. He would not allow such an injustice to happen. He was going to save her, and give these monsters some serious payback for hurting her. He winced as another set of explosions wracked through the ship, tearing her apart like a knife through butter. The SSV Normandy was his baby, his ship, and he could feel the explosions as if they were happening to himself. The ship was like a part of him, so in a way, at least in his perspective, it was.

His adept fingers flew across the controls almost mechanically; he didn't even have to take a moment to think about what he was doing anymore. The other crew members often joked that he could fly the ship in his sleep, and Joker never denied it. If need be, he most likely could. He knew the frigate like he knew his whole body; what she could and couldn't do, how far she could go, when to push her, what would make her break by going too far. He knew almost everything about the ship, he could even tell what needed to be fixed if she wasn't performing her usual best. The only limitation he had was physically doing the fixing if the cause was something he couldn't tackle from the cockpit.

The Normandy buckled as the enemy came around for yet another attack, throwing Joker harshly to the side in his seat and banging his arm against something hard. He hissed and cursed in pain, rubbing his arm with his other hand momentarily before shaking it off and going back to the controls. Thankfully, nothing had broken. He banked hard left, hoping to get out of range of the enemy's weapons before they could attack again. She wouldn't respond to his command, only able to drift aimlessly forward.

"No," Joker breathed in disbelief. "No, no, no!"

The ship's main thrusters were too badly damaged. There was no way to outrun them. She couldn't respond to his commands. He was trying everything he could think of; attempting to activate the secondary thrusters (much smaller and far less powerful than the main ones, but they would do), diverting all main power to the engines and drive core. Every single one of his attempts failed. They were sitting ducks at the mercy of the enigmatic monsters. He sent out yet another SOS transmission, yet again recieving nothing but silence in turn.

"Come on, baby! Hold together! Hold together!" he pleaded. They just needed more time. Time for Commander Shepard to get everyone to safety and then she would sort out what to do.

Shepard.

Was she alright? Was she coming to the rescue as she always did? Was she even alive? An image of the woman popped into his mind unbidden; Commander Shepard trapped under some fallen debri or hit by an explosion, ice blue eyes staring at the ceiling wide in terror seeing nothing, blood smearing the-

No! He quickly purged the notion from his mind, pushing down the sickening feeling in his gut at the gruesome picture. Elizabeth Shepard was alive. She had to be. She was too important, too insanely good for her to die now, like this. Shepard was strong willed, stubborn, sometimes a bit sarcastic and narcisissitc, but kind hearted, caring, and his only true friend in the entire galaxy. When others were pushed away by his snarky attitude, she had stubbornly felt all the more reason to get under his skin. She managed to worm her way into his heart with her sense of humor and sarcasm much like his, like no other person before. When he felt like he had no one but the Normandy, she proved him wrong. He refused to think of her being defeated like that. He wouldn't give up, no matter the odds. Shepard wouldn't want him to. She never would herself. With renewed resolve, he tried the SOS transmission once again, pleading with the Normandy, his baby, to hold on for just a bit longer.

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that; riding out explosions, fingers flying over the controls without even truly thinking about it. The only thing in his mind he allowed himself to focus on was saving the Normandy, saving Shepard and the crew. It could have been mere moments, or could have been several hours. Just the same, he suddenly felt a hand grab on to his shoulder and that was enough to snap him out of his frantic concentration.

"Come on Joker. We need to get out of here!" a woman's voice called down to him, stern and forcefully controlled calm. It sounded smooth and lilting, and he knew exactly who it belonged to. He turned his head and found himself face to face with no other than Commander Shepard herself, and he couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief at the sight of her. She was alive. A bit banged up, but mercifully alive and well.

But he couldn't abandon his baby. He couldn't leave her to die like this, with the injustice of not even knowing the cruel monsters responsible for this. She deserved better. They both did.

"No, I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!" he insisted, not taking his hands off the controls, tearing his eyes away from her peircing blue orbs. He half expected her to turn and run, to leave him with the ship. Hell, that's what he silently wished she would do. He wanted, no, needed, to save his ship, his baby.

"The Normandy's lost." Shepard insisted, lowering to his eye level. Her voice sounded thick with worry, pain. "Going down with the ship won't change that, Joker."

That's when he finally looked about him. Really truly looked. Everything was crumbling apart around him. Fires blazed out of control. He could see the vast expanse of space from where the roof should have been behind him. What once had been his home, the only thing he had ever cared about, was completely decimated. He looked to the commander, and saw pain, regret, pity reflecting his own in her eyes. She had loved the Normandy, just as much as he did. This was as much her home as it was his. Looking into her eyes, he knew she was right; the ship he loved was lost.

"Yeah. Ok. Help me up." he replied reluctantly, looking down at the controls in complete and utter defeat. Something caught his attention. The sensors showed the weapons of the enemy heating up again. When he looked up, he saw them, turning around towards the decimated ship.

"They're coming around for another attack!" he cried in disbelief. Hadn't these guys done enough? The Normandy was already dead! There was no need to go overkill. Anger flared in his chest. These guys really didn't know when to quit.

The ship buckled violently as the lazer-beam like weapon struck its target, and Shepard grabbed his still sore arm a bit too forcefully, dragging him up and out of the chair.

"Ah! Watch the arm!" he chastised, although his heart wasn't in it. The commander said nothing as she helped him quickly navigate the wreckage, towards the escape pod that would send them to safety. Joker couldn't help but notice their close proximity, how she was able to somehow muster the strength to hold him up and navigate the remnants of the ship while still being completely gentle about it. He had never been that close to the Commander before. If not for her helmet, he would have been able to examine the faint scar going up her cheek and to her earlobe, a souvenir of some past battle no doubt, in great detail, noticing every jagged edge and faint line. He had always known it was there, seen it when the light hit her face just right, but never so close. A tiny part of him silently cursed the helmet as they ambled towards the escape pod.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was eased into the pod; grunting and groaning from the strain of such a grueling trip on his frail bones. He was fairly certain that he had fractured his leg when he tripped over a hunk of metal. Resulting in a sprain in his arm from Shepard holding him upright. He tried moving both apendages gingerly- that hurt like a mother. Huge mistake on his part. They both were definitely fractured.

The flight leutenant expected Shepard to be right in the pod with him as he studied his injuries, but a bad feeling began to flood into his heart. He looked up just in time to see the next attack on the ship knock his Commander away from the pod and careening away. His jaw dropped as he watched her grab a hold of something and turn her head to look in his direction.

"Commander!" he called out to her, panic beginning to flood his senses as he began to realize just what she was holding on to. What she was going to do. He saw the fear in her eyes, the pain, the regret. It was a look that would haunt him forever.

"SHEPARD!" he screamed as she hit the button with her finger, the door to his pod sliding shut. With desperation, and most likely stupidity as well, he launched himself at the door as the pod rocketed away, not caring about any possible broken bones. The sheer force sent him flying into the door rather than standing in front of it. But he did not feel the pain from it. Nor did he feel the pain of slamming his fists into the door, desperate to get out. To do something, anything, to save her. The door wouldn't budge. There was a security measure designed to keep the door shut when conditions proved too hostile to maintain the life of the person inside.

"Dammit! Shepard!" he cried, giving the door one last futile beating. All his strength was gone. He fell to his knees, nothing but an empty shell as he watched the Normandy fall apart. He was completely numb as he watched the body of his commander, his friend, fly into space and fall into the atmosphere of the planet below.

He had never told her how he felt. Never told her that he loved her. He had never gotten the chance. She always belonged to Kaidan. He never was able to work up the nerve. And now he would never get the chance. The one person who understood him, the one person who never once cared about his condition, the one person who actually liked him despite his snarky attitude, the one and only person that had been able to get under his skin and into his heart, was dead.

He didn't even move when the Alliance finally managed to arrive and opened the door to the pod to set him free.