VI.
The next morning, Shepard pulled up Archangel's dossier on her computer next to the galaxy map, just to refresh where she needed to go to meet up with the mercenaries Aria had mentioned. But another message had come in through the Illusive Man's information network, a message that made her eyes widen and Kelly Chambers look to see why she was drawing in a sudden breath.
She stared at the message on her screen, reading again the encoded message from the Alliance clinical-sounding dossier from the Illusive Man, who...he couldn't be conceding to her. Couldn't be giving this just because he was being nice. He must have a motive-must want her to think he was thinking of her best interests. He could have deleted the message before it ever got to Shepard.
But that didn't matter. The Normandy ruins had been found, and …she needed to go back; to see what had become of her old friend. Setting up the Alliance's gaudy, half-moon memorial might give her some closure. To see what had happened to her ship…maybe it would tell her what had happened to herself in those forgotten moments.
And Joker had to know. It should be a quiet mission, a meditative one-and she didn't want anyone who didn't know the old Normandy to be there. But he had loved her even more than Shepard had.
She clicked the console off without exiting the message, unwilling to move it to the section where everything she'd read and forgot about lurked. Tentatively she walked down the gantry toward the pilot's chair, wishing she had a paper letter, some proof, to clench in her hand.
He turned around before she said anything, like he had mirrored screens-and maybe he did. "Hey, Commander."
"Hey, Joker. Ah, I got a call from Andersen. They found the wreckage of the Normandy." She couldn't help but lower her voice at the end, as if she was talking about a dead relative.
He paused ever so briefly. "Where, where'd she fall? You're gonna go check it out, right?"
" This world Alchera. The one…."
He looked away from her, away from EDI's lights. "The one where we fell too."
She did not know where she was supposed to look. Her eyes gravitated not quite toward him. He had the headset in today, the blue-grey clip of metal tucked beside his ear.
He said, "Sounds like a cheery vacation. Festive."
"I, ah, was wondering if you wanted to come with me."
He was still and silent for a moment. "Yeah. I'd like that. Give her last rites, you know?" He turned partly away to tap at the console, pulled up the miniature galaxy map and a tagged diagram of Alchera. "I'll take us to orbit."
*
Normandy had fallen onto a world in winter. Puddles splashed under Shepard's feet as she walked toward the arch of the beached hull, looking around in awed silence at the other parts of the ship-a strip of skin here, sheared off complete to show the name; an engine nacelle here, blackened. She slowed her steps, watched the ripples still disturb the ground.
Joker's comm clicked like the sound of a shovel driven into snow. "I can't believe this much survived."
Shepard moved slowly over to the curved wall that gravity had thrown onto what it did not know would one day be her path. Blue-black expanses, barely recognizable as an engine housing, stretched toward the sky. She put out a gloved hand to trail her fingers along the metal, thinking of how many times this thick skin had withstood the cold of space. "I'm sorry…" she said, and the comm was open; she knew he could hear her, and it didn't matter whether he thought she was talking to the ship or to him. "I'm so sorry."
She wasn't going to cry. It was a ship, not a person. And tears would fog up her facemask.
She breathed, moved; trudged toward the open space in the epicenter of the wreck, heading for the bulk of the ship. She felt alone; couldn't hear Joker's footsteps following her until he caught up as she stepped onto the remaining metal floor of the command center. After the sky frosty-blue and open, the ceiling looked black and dust-choked.
Here, she could see the fire as if it were happening again. Here burning brands had dashed crumbling off her armor, here had been all smoky and yellow.
Somehow, it was peaceful now.
Joker eased past her and stalked up the forward gantry.
She followed at first, but hung back when he reached the pilot's chair. As she had touched the hull his gloved hands traced the frayed, bitten edges, flattened against it; he turned away from her to look at the featureless surface of the once-bright console.
"You did good, baby," he murmured. "You did good."
One tear, hot. And then she knew what to do; knew that they would get on without it but it was the right thing. She put an arm around his shoulders; he turned and got his arms around her, rested his chin on the top of her head. It was the right thing to do; she could hear it in his catching breath. She liked being able to press against him.
"Thanks," he said; they drew to arms' length. "She was such a good ship, you know?"
"It's the crew I remember when I look at her." Shepard gave a tight smile.
"You would," he said. "You always think of 'em."
"Them?" She tipped her head. "You're included."
"I know. Crew…" Abruptly he turned, retreated down the hall.
"Wait-what's wrong?" She jogged to catch up.
He stopped, looking lanky in his green-black armor. "Nothing. No problem."
He's the only one who's always been there for me. Always. And oh did I like to hear his voice in my ear when we were going after Sovereign. But nothing happened. Nothing could happen. Military regulations. Vrolik's.
Make me an asari. Make me someone who knows how to tell people how they feel.
Her mouth wasn't quite working. He turned so she could see his face behind the plas shield, questioning. For all his wit he doesn't talk to the crew much, she thought. Doesn't gossip. He might not know what to say. Just like I don't, just like I-
Closest thing to romantic I'm going to get now is a headbutt. And he knows those have killed people.
She took some quick steps forward and knocked their helmets together.
He raised his armor-scaled hands like he was afraid of her, but a moment later he brought them gently to her shoulders. "I suppose there's regulations keeping me from asking you out for dinner."
"There are."
"Would you like to-"
"Yeah." She just curled her hands against his back, shy at the same time as not being in any way afraid to look at him anymore. Theirs was always an informal relationship; this felt no different.
He smiled behind the mask, looked around at the ruined room. Silence as she thought of how unlike the disaster around her she felt. She'd risen from the ashes.
He said, "This is a little awkward."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think she minds?"
"Normandy? Nah. Her and me…" He leaned forward and she felt the click of their helmets meeting. "We've got this arrangement…"
She took his hand and lead him out.