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Greetings and salutations. This is it, the one we've all been waiting for: "The One Where I Get the Girl (finally)," aka, the one where the story arc ends. But never fear! I'll continue this as a collection of one-shots, as it was originally intended to be. Some of them will go back to the Academy and explore Joker and Felicia's friendship, and others will follow them as a couple. If there's anything you'd like to see me put into the story, I'd love to hear your suggestions, so feel free to post a comment, message me, or get in touch with me on the other websites I have links to on my profile.
The song Joker's listening to at the beginning of this chapter is "At the Library" by Green Day. It is delightful and totally appropriate, and ironically named, if you remember that he met Felicia in the Alliance Academy library. ; )
And, I was listening to "Maybe" by The Sick Puppies while I was writing the ending. I'm so, so insanely pleased with the way it came out. I hope you all are, too.
Obligatory disclaimers: I blame Bioware. And the songs. Together they assume direct control of my brain and make me write fluff. You know you feel this.
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Felicia turns her old N7 helmet over in her hands. It's pretty banged up, but intact and in mostly decent shape, certainly better shape than anything else that we found at the crash site, the Mako notwithstanding. That thing's damn near indestructible.
"This is going to look nice on my desk once I clean it up," she muses, wiping some grime off the visor.
"You're going to use the helmet you died in as a paperweight?" I ask incredulously. it's presence in the shuttle offends me in a way I can't even begin to describe. "That's weird, Commander, no offense."
"You're just jealous she's running her hands all over it instead of you," Garrus says. I can see him smirking to himself in the drivers' seat. Felicia smiles a bit and resumes examining the helmet for more grime to clean off. I feel myself turn pink and glare at Garrus'sreflection on the windshield, wanting very much to kick the back of the drivers' seat. Dr. Chakwas chuckles, her lips twitching into a little smile before she recomposes herself when she realizes I heard her.
"You don't seriously think that we didn't hear you two?" Dr. Chakwas asks me. "We were all on the same comm channel."
Garrus chuckles. "You two sounded like a couple of kids on their first date. Very cute, by the way."
"Says the guy dating the recently-legal quarian," I snap. He doesn't respond, but I think he growls at me. Freak.
"Aw, don't get all huffy, Jeff," Felicia says. "You've had a very trying morning, being away from EDI for a whopping two hours. I'm sure you miss each other terribly."
I frown. "Of course she misses me. She's my mom. She wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't keep tabs on me at all times."
"I keep tabs on all of the Normandy's crew, Jeff," EDI says, her beach-ball-on-a-pedestal visage appearing near the shuttle door. "I'm always watching you." We stare at her for a minute. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm a little scared. Shaking in my boots.
"That is a joke," she adds, just before she disappears as quickly as she appeared. Felicia sets the helmet aside and smiles at me.
"See? I told you your holoMom was worried about you."
"I have more moms than I need," I groan. I should I ask around to see if anyone wants one. "I'm sure someone else is in need of maternal love."
"Oh, stop whining, Jeff." Dr. Chakwas, another one of my moms, is untangling all the chains from the dog tags we found and putting them into a compartment in her armor. She looks a little down, but happy that we can finally give the old crew's families some closure. "I always liked the Draven sisters. They were sweet girls."
"The twins that worked in the CIC? Tall, blonde hair, brown eyes? I remember them. They were cute." Felicia raises her eyebrow at me. She's wondering if my dedicated bachelorhood has seriously screwed with my idea of how the whole dating shebang is supposed to work. I put my hand over hers and add, "I mean, if you're into traditionally beautiful women like that. Not me. Nope. I like short girls with dark hair and blue eyes. You're my..." I try to think of something nice to say, and settle on really, really lame. "My sunshine?"
She looks unimpressed, but amused. "Nice save."
"I try."
"Mm." She moves her hand so she can put her fingers through mine as we exit Alchera's atmosphere and into space. I just can't get over how small her hands are, how feminine and dainty they feel even through her armor. Actually, she looks curvier in her armor than I've seen her look in anything else for a long time. I wonder why. Is it some weird, girlie armor design? Or a coincidence? Maybe she wears an Aegis vest on purpose.
I sigh, lean my head back, and close my eyes. I'm beat, like, really fucking exhausted. I'm not a get-up-and-go kind of guy (literally), and I spend most of my time sitting down staring at screens or out at the endless abyss of space from the cockpit. It's not that I'm lazy (per se), but I"m kind of sedentary by default. I mean, I do stuff, like keeping in shape and all that, but I'm inactive. It's not like I can help it or anything. I just seem like one of those guys whose lazy as hell and doesn't do shit for himself. Maybe it's my personality, or my hat, or the beard or something... yeah, no. It's totally the beard. Clearly. I take no responsibility for that common misconception. It's not my fault I spend fifteen hours a day on my ass doing next to nothing. It isn't. Don't judge me.
Great, I'm defending me to myself. Awesome. I must be more tired than I thought.
*#*#*#*
I was alone in my dorm room. I was sitting at my desk, leaning back in my chair with my hands behind my head and my eyes closed, listening to music and thinking. The song was old, like, from the 1990s, by a band I don't remember the name of. Maybe it's related to my copious amounts of free time, but I like old music. The whole synthpop techno dance electronica whatever that everyone listens to is seriously retarded.
I let my mind wander from my upcoming flight school placement assessment, to Felicia, to my parents, to buying a hamster, to Felicia in civvies, to the lyrics of the song
What is it that drives me mad?
Girls like you that I never had
What is it about you that I adore?
to Felicia in my room with me, to Felicia kissing me
What is it that makes me feel so much pain
That makes me go insane?
What is it about you that I adore?
to Felicia out of her civvies—Someone buzzed my room, trying to get inside and effectively crashing my train of thought. I was going to ignore it and try to get the train going again, but the door buzzed again. My comm pinged.
"Jeff!" It was Felicia. Her voice was hushed and hurried, crackling over the comm. "Let me in, quick!"
I got up so quickly I almost busted my knee on the leg of my desk as I rushed to turn off the music. I ran (hobbled) into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm myself down before I opened the door.
"C'mon, Jeff!" she said, almost begging. "I know you're in there. If you don't let me in I'll hack your door and interrupt whatever it is you're doing!"
I gimped my way over to the door as quickly as I could and opened it as casually as I could. She was biting her thumb and tapping her foot impatiently, her arm crossed tightly across her chest. She gave me a once-over, like the fact I was wearing pants surprised her. She stopped biting her nail and smiled as she stepped around me. She unfolded her arm and pulled a long electric blue tube out of her jacket, put it on the table, and stripped out of the unnecessary outerwear. Her shirt was long sleeved and had a low square-ish neckline, skin tight and brilliant white. Come to think of it, it looked a lot like that cat suit thing Miranda runs around in. Her jeans were tight, too, tucked into a pair of knee-high combat-style black boots. It really suited her, in a way I hadn't been able to imagine. Not really crazy sexy or anything, but sexy in a Felicia way.
"Wow," was all I could think of to say.
"Thanks," she said. I think her cheeks turned the slightest bit pink. "I had no idea you cared about women's clothing."
"I assure you, I care about them very much. Especially on girls I like."
"Oh, you and your ways," she said with a grin, tugging the brim of my hat down over my eyes. I tried to be subtle as I watched her walk away, using the brim of my cap to block her view of my eyes.
She walked over to my desk and pulled two small shot glasses out of nowhere. "Stop looking at my ass, Jeff."
"I wasn't looking at your ass." I rubbed the back of my neck and tried not to dwell on the fact that she caught me checking her out.
"Please," she quipped. "You aren't nearly as subtle as you think, Mr. Moreau."
"No, really," I bleated lamely. "I was looking at your, uh, boots? They're, um, nice?"
"Thank you. Nice save, by the way."
"I try. So, what's the occassion?"
"Ken, Gabby, and Gennifer took me out to celebrate," she explained, filling the two glasses with electric blue alcohol. "I wanted to come by earlier to tell you, but they dragged me out right after I was told. I kept trying to leave, but they wouldn't let me. I had to lie and say Commander Anderson wanted to see me about my test scores."
"You got your OCS preliminary results?"
"Uh-huh."
"And?"
She turned to face me, her eyes sparkling. "I'm going off to OCS at the end of the semester. They want me to make lieutenant before they have me go for N7."
I stared at her. She was glowing, bouncing on her heels in excitement. She made a funny little squealing sound, which meant she was waiting for me to react. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I held my arms out for a congratulatory hug.
She squealed like a little girl and threw herself at me, driving me back against the door. She hugged me so tightly she almost broke my ribs, her body pressed flush against mine, her head tucked under my chin. I could smell her perfume so strongly it made my head spin. She smelled like grape bubblegum. Her hair tickled. I had to fight the urge to give her a full-on return hug of equal enthusiasm (and I was enthusiastic, believe you me), and settled for giving her a quick squeeze and a pat on the back.
"Where'd you get the... blue stuff?" I asked. I figured it was liquor of some sort, but I had no idea what kind. I was only nineteen and relatively sheltered until that point, so I had nothing to go on.
"What, this?" she asked, tilting the bottle back and forth. "It's Serrice ice brandy. Ken gave it to me as a gift. Thoughtful, right?"
She stepped back and skipped back to the coffee table where she'd put her stuff. She brought liquor into my dorm room, which could've gotten us both expelled if we were caught. I was half horrified and half impressed.
"You have any music or vids or something?" she asked as she filled the shot glasses. "I need to relax or something. I'm all wound up."
"Just old stuff," I admitted. I had old movies and TV series from the 21st, a few stragglers from earlier. "Did you ever see District 9?"
"I love that movie!" she said. She handed me one of the shot glasses and sat down next to me on my couch. "I haven't seen it in forever. You have it? Can we watch it?"
"Sure."
I pulled up the holoprojector over my extranet term and opened the data file that contained the movie. It was halfway through the opening credits when Felicia turned to me with an evil grin on her face.
"What?" I asked warily.
"Doesn't Wikus drop the f-bomb every other word in this movie?"
"Yeah, why?"
Her grin broadened. "Let's make it a drinking game. Every time he says 'fuck,' we take a drink," she said slowly, like she was talking to a little kid about not taking candy from strangers. "Let's use up the whole bottle of brandy so I don't have to bring it back to my dorm with me in the morning."
"In the morning, Fel?"
"I'm not wandering across the quad in the middle of the night drunk off my face. Come on, it'll be fun." She looked expectantly at me, and then her whole expression changed. "Oh. You've never—you've never been drunk before, right?"
I didn't say anything, which, in retrospect, made me look guilty.
"Fine, you drink first," she said.
"What?"
"You go first. It's my job as your responsible older friend to get you drunk for the first time."
"Is there a rule saying that, or are you trying to take advantage of me?"
She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Oh, yes, Jeff. I'm going to use alcohol to lower your inhibitions so I can molest you."
She said it so seriously I felt a little threatened and (way) more than a little turned on. I involuntarily started to wonder how my night was going to go. I came up with three different scenarios, all of which I've thought about many times since: one involved the couch, one my bed, and the other the coffee table, and all of them with her on top of me and gloriously naked.
Just when I thought my brain was going to explode and start leaking out of my ears, she corrected herself.
"I mean, I'm only trying to get you drunk. I have no intention to rape you. I clearly have no ulterior motives." She added a very fake, very theatrical cough for good measure. The effect was good, but my mind took a solid ten seconds to compute that she was being funny. I was suddenly very grateful that the room was too dark for her to make me out too clearly. My face became almost unbearably hot, so much so I wondered how my skin was keeping all that blood under the surface and why it hadn't started leaking all over me.
To be frank, I kind of resented her for that one. That was just plain cruel.
*#*#*#*
"Okay, guys," Felicia says as the shuttle settles back into the cargo hold. "I want you all to go get comfortable and take the rest of the day off. I know working is the farthest thing from my mind right now."
"Shepard, I-"
"Save it, Garrus. Your calibrations can wait until tomorrow. If I catch you working today, I'll have you take over Gardner's janitorial duties for a week."
"Yes, Commander."
"Dr. Chakwas, you have my permission to share your new bottle of Serrice ice brandy with Mr. Gardner."
"Thank you, Shepard," says the good doctor. She smiles gratefully as she starts preparing the wheelchair for deboarding.
Felicia squeezes my hand as she releases it. "You, Joker, are barred from piloting the Normandy today. I don't even want you looking at the cockpit, understood?
"Aye aye, Commander."
Garrus and Dr. Chakwas deboard and go aboutgetting themselves settled back in. I go to get up, but Felicia stops me.
"Come up to my cabin later, okay?" she says softly. "We'll figure everything out then."
I squeeze her hand. "Sure. I have nothing better to do today anyway."
She laughs and gets out of the shuttle, cradling both helmets in her arms awkwardly as she heads for the elevator.
"Aren't you coming?"
"Right behind you."
I follow her in and lean back against the cool metal wall. She hums quietly to herself. It's nice, just being with her and not talking, but feeling comfortable with it all the same. The elevator stops in the CIC, where I get off and head straight for the armory.
I take my time removing the armor, mostly because it's heavy, but also because it's not mine and I don't want to know what Ken From Engineering will do to me if I scuff his brand new suit of armor. I don't know why he bothered sinking all those creds into it in the first place, because it's not like he needs it. I'm assuming that he got it because the thinks armor is a chick magnet. Whatever. The guy's delusional.
I'm back in my own clothes, not my uniform, and comfortable enough to go up to the loft and hash out how Felicia and I are going to take the Big Step. Since I don't usually go ashore, I don't have much in the way of civs lying around in my footlocker, but it feels insanely good to be wearing jeans and a teeshirt instead of a starchy uniform for a change. And sneakers. I forgot how much I love sneakers. I limp back into the CIC, where I'm grateful Kelly hasn't appeared yet, and get into the elevator.
It's weird to push the button for the captin's quarters. It feels so taboo and illicit. I allow myself to get a little thrill out of it, but the thrill ends as the door opens and I'm face-to-face with Felicia's door.
Oh, shit. Here goes nothing.
I open her door. I don't see her, but I see a display case full of model ships. Model ships, Felicia, still? She's collected those things for as long as I can remember. Tali says it's like Felicia has a little Migrant Fleet of her own, and she's right. Felicia's been collecting since she was a kid, so she has near on a hundred different models now. It's actually really cute. I love it, because I'm the same way.
"Jeff?" Felicia appears behind the display case, her head popping up between a turian cruiser and the flotilla. "Hey. Come on in."
I take a deep breath and walk past her fish tank. It's empty. There's a hamster cage on a shelf behind her desk, next to what I think is her bathroom door. I step down into the living area, and I'm surprised to see a leather couch and a coffee table with wine glasses on it.
"How swank," I muse.
"I know, right? Come on, sit down."
She scoots into the corner of the couch. She's wearing the tight white shirt and the tight jeans again, but her feet are bare this time. Her toenails are bright red, like her lipstick. She tucks one leg underneath her in a way that's almost childish, but mature at the same time. It's cute.
"Hi," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Hey," I say, chuckling nervously.
She shrugs her shoulders up, sitting on her hands. "I think I know how we should approach this, but I need to ask you something first. Is that okay?"
"Sure. Shoot."
She purses her lips and looks at her toes.
"Whatever happened to us?"
"You know what happened," I say automatically. I really, really don't want to go there right now. Not exacly a happy chapter in the Life of Joker. I'd very much like to not revisit that while Felicia and I are trying to figure things out again.
She looks at her red toenails and brings her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I handled that so badly, hurt you so badly. I should have told you-"
"Told me you got back together with your boyfriend?"
"Yeah," she says, almost too quietly to hear.
"We weren't really dating, Felicia. We were just screwing around." I don't tell her that I honestly thought we were dating, at least at the time. I was young, much more naive than I care to admit, much more fragile than I am now, and almost as socially handicapped as I was physically. It was a big deal for me to let anyone in back then (it still is), but Felicia was the first. I trusted her with my secrets, my aspirations, and my body. It sounds really stupid when I put it like that, but that's how it was, and it hurt like hell when I found out she went back to That Asshole.
"I still should've told you about Kiernan before you saw us back together. You must've hated me." I did hate her for it, resented her, thought terrible things about her that I still feel guilty for thinking, but I never stopped loving her. I don't tell her any of that. She doesn't need to know. All she needs to know is that I forgave her when I gave her my favorite hat. She doesn't need to know that I handled way worse than I let on. There's no reason to tell her how I really reacted to it.
"It just feels right to apologize, you know?" she continues. "I don't feel right trying to pick up from where we left off without apologizing to you."
"Apology accepted." I sigh internally. Crisis averted. Now on to something completely different, for my sake. "Where did we leave off, exactly?" I ask, smiling despite myself. "Do you remember?"
"I think I asked you," she says, grinning. It's amazing how I can just lighten the mood like that. I am a truly gifted human being. I amaze myself sometimes. "But, yeah, I remember. We were in your dorm, fooling around, and you got a comm message."
"I was going to ignore it."
"But I wouldn't let you because the beeping was driving me crazy. I said I would leave if you didn't answer it."
"Which I was in no fit state to do," I remind her. She giggles. "But I did, and it was my dad. He told me Mom died."
She nods, smiling sadly. "I brought you to the Academy spaceport and put you on the first flight to Arcturus. The next time I saw you was when you saw me off to the OCS shuttle." She looks up and smiles. "I gave you the ignition switch from my motorcycle."
"I gave you my vintage Yankees hat. You cried."
"Shut up! So did you."
"I did not!" I laugh.
"You so did," she giggles. "You were trying to be all manly and unflinching, but you were glassy-eyed and sniffling, too. You know you can't bullshit me."
I'm too proud to admit that she's right, so I settle for sticking my tongue out at her like a little kid.
"I still had that hat back in the SR-1 days," she says, laughing. "I didn't have it on the ship, though. It was in my apartment, hanging on the corner of my vanity table."
"You remember where you had my hat three years ago?" I ask incredulously.
"It only feels like months to me, remember? When we docked on the Citadel to see Anderson after we recruited Zaeed, Garrus and Mordin? He gave me the key to the storage locker where my mom put all my stuff. I have all my old shit up here. Your hat's over there." She points over my head, toward where her hamster cage is. I turn around and look through her display case and see it, perched on top of a row of antique books. It's still in pretty good shape, considering how old and worn it is.
"I wear it sometimes, you know," she says after a few quiet seconds pass.
I turn back to her. "What?"
"I wear your hat sometimes," she elaborates. "When I'm cleaning, when I'm working on mission reports and boring stuff like that. It helps me focus."
"My hat helps you focus?" I ask incredulously.
"You, for all your smartassery and slackerly ways, Jeff, are incredibly focussed. I like to think some of that focus rubs off on me when I wear it."
I love how she thinks of me when she wears it. I love the way she smiles when she says it. I love how she's scooting closer to me as she says it.
"Your ignition thing is in my locker," I tell her. "After you, you know, died, I carried it around for a while. It made me feel better. I had it on me when TIM recruited me, actually. He thought I was crazy."
"Maybe you are?"
"That's a given, Felicia. You know that well enough by now."
"That I do," she admits. "If I remember correctly, I owe you a kiss, right?"
"That's also a given."
She smiles crookedly and touches my face with her fingertips, her eyes flickering between my lips and my eyes. She bites her lip, the scar disappears between her teeth. She's hesitatiing. So am I. This is going to change everything and a whole mess of other things I don't want to think about yet. Life before the Reapers come. Life after the Reapers come. Sex. Moving in together. Getting a pet together. Getting engaged. Marriage. Kids. There are too many possibilites. There are too many chances for everything to go wrong if I kiss her. There are too many ways for everyhting to go right if she kisses me.
So we meet each other in the middle.
And, honestly?
Nothing changes.
She's still her, and I'm still me.
Suddenly all those "maybes" aren't as scary as I thought they were going to be.