The Normandy slides out of FTL without a hitch, and the board lights up green. She glows, pleasant, and the sight is like a newborn's sleepy smile to him. She's his baby, and Joker doesn't care if that makes him a sap.

The green lights running the length of the display are the safety of every member of Joker's crew. Until the last of them has turned red and the emission sink needs dumped, the Normandy is completely invisible. At least so long as the Geth keep to their strict no windows policy.

They hit this system in the middle of the Normandy's night cycle, so the deck is perfectly quiet but for the hum of the drive core and the skeleton crew's slow movements.

"We're wasting our time." Trust Pressley to ruin a good thing. He's always grumpy when he pulls a night shift. "Four days up and down this sector, and we haven't found any sign of Geth activity."

"Come on, Pressley. We found that ancient Asari pop station, and we all saw you dancing."

Pressley frowns, but before he can respond, Mandi, the new ensign- works on Joker's downtime mostly- interrupts, "Picking up something on the long-range scanners." She's not bad looking. A little on the quiet side. Competent though, which is why he hadn't made Jefferies stay when his shift was over. Also because Jefferies is fucking annoying. The worst thing Joker can say about Mandi is that she uses a nickname that makes her seem about twelve years old. "Unidentified vessel, looks like a cruiser."

The data comes up his displays. No known matches, and with specs like that, Joker doubts it's a junker. Good for Mandi to get a little action. Maybe if she keeps it together Shepard will approve a few shift changes for Jefferies.

"Cruiser is changing course, now on intercept trajectory."

Shit. What?

The board's still green. There's no way anyone should be able to intercept them. "It's not the geth," Joker says. His mind races, but there's only one explanation.

It's the fucking Reapers.

"Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

Joker pulls the Normandy into a barrel roll, and the combined efforts of both the dampeners and his seat brace aren't enough to keep Joker from slamming into the dash. His knee burns, best guess both his patella and tibia are broken.

The rear vid feed shows the foreign ship gaining on them. It looks massive against Alchera, blocking out the planet's reflected light. Nothing that huge should move that quickly out of FTL. Its beam fires, and the Normandy shudders with the impact.

"Pressley!" Mandi cries, but the noise is nearly drowned out by the scream of alarms. Fire on deck. The smoke filling the bridge deploys his breather, and Joker races to put it on. The seal suctions against the skin of his face, recycled air pulling the smoke away from his watering eyes.

Joker guesses they can take two more hits before the smoke doesn't matter. The kinetic shield is already down, and the mass effect field which supplies their air pressure in case of hull breach won't last long. Pressley and Mandi are both silent behind him.

Time slows.

The Normandy is equipped with a series of Mattox 10-S escape pods. They're civilian grade, made for the big tour ships, chosen because they're compact, ideal for a stealth frigate not meant for active combat.

Only one problem. The fucking pods don't fly. Which means once they're deployed, the crew inside will be sitting ducks for the Reaper ship.

Joker pulls the Normandy's nose hard port towards Alchera. "Come on, baby. Just a little further." The planet's gravity is their best hope.

Kaidan's voice over the comms is angry. "Joker, evac! Now!" Joker's ignored the orders flashing across his screen this long, they can wait a bit longer.

"Sorry, LT." It's a struggle to keep the fear from his voice. But Kaidan's a competent co-pilot, he could get the Normandy into Alchera's orbit. If he command Joker to change places, well, Joker's not sure he'd be brave enough to refuse. So he layers on the smug arrogance as he replies, "Not abandoning ship. I'll pick you all up after I lose these bastards."

Kaidan's string of profanity is cut with the press of a button.

Half the sensors are gone, either blown away or jostled out of calibration badly enough to be useless. Even so, the Normandy flies better than half the shuttles Joker used to pilot back on Arcturus. Shame to let such a beautiful ship crash through atmo. They pass the distance of stable orbit, and the ship begins to fall. He's aimed just right, though. The crew should have plenty of time to evacuate.

Joker spins his chair, ready to run, but the sight behind him turns his blood cold. The bridge has become a maze of tangled steel and burning equipment. One of the support beams has pierced through the co-pilot's seat beside him, ceiling now moaning in protest at half its usual height. The wreckage isn't likely something he could clear at the best of times, and with the new break in his knee? Impossible.

Alchera is beautiful when he turns around. White and glistening. Joker sinks back into his seat. He will hold the Normandy steady as long as he can. He will hold the line. He thinks of Kirrahe and smiles. Thinks of Ash and her fierce determination, and his fear melts away.

The display marks the launch of each pod. All but one shoots towards the ice below.

"Come on, baby. Hold together. Only a little longer now." Joker wonders if the black box will be recovered, wonders if he should record a last message for Gunny and his mom and dad. If he starts, though, there are things he might say, things he might confess-

The art-grav is the next to go. Only a minute until the mass effect field disappears. Not enough time for confessions. No, there is only enough time to think how beautiful, how infinite space is from his pilot chair. Only enough time to breathe in the light of the stars. There are worse ways to go.

"Jeff!"

Shepard must have overridden the comm link mute. He wonders how long before the distance grows too great, how long before the failing technology severs them. Does she know he's not on one of the other escape pods? Will she be sorry to be without him when her feet touch Alchera's icy surface?

Shepard's hand finds his shoulder.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!" No. Not Shepard. No. She needs to leave. Now.

"I won't abandon the Normandy!" He'll slow Shepard down, and there's precious little time. "I can still save her!"

He can still save her.

"The Normandy's gone." Her gauntlets are bruising where they curl around his arm, but the determination in her eyes is bright.

Fear and hope claw back into consciousness. And Joker doesn't want to die, not like this. There could still be time. He struggles to his feet, Shepard supporting his weight, because not even adrenaline is enough to make his broken leg weight-bearing. There could still be time.

In the end, of course, there isn't.

"Commander!" he screams as a blast tears her away from him. "Shepard!" The pod doors slam shut. No. No. No.

The pod ejects, the force throwing him against the wall, and then there is only pain.


It's common practice for the Commander to eat her meals in the mess, she switches shifts once a week so that she's available to each member of the Normandy. And so no one feels undue scrutiny. It can be hard to eat in the presence of a legend.

It's Joker's bad luck that their falling out happened while she's taking meals with his shift.

The tension remains, and Joker knows he's caused it. So now rather than sitting next to her, he's a table away, sneaking glances at her when she's not looking. There is so much he needs to say, but deep down, Joker is a coward. Alchera taught him that.

The Commander eats with the most exquisitely correct table manners he's ever seen. Most biotics- hell, most marines- shovel food into their mouths like it's their last damn meal, but not Shepard. Every bit of food is cut into uniform bites, and between each taste of food, Shepard takes a sip of water. Every three bites she dabs her mouth with a napkin. Bite. Sip. Bite. Sip. Bite. Sip. Dab.

She still eats a biotic portion size, but it takes her nearly the whole hour, and for a woman who is usually so damned efficient, the exercise in manners is mindboggling.

Kelly grabs the Commander's attention, though she continues to eat. Bite. Sip. Bite. Sip. Bite. Sip. Dab. Like a machine. Joker hides a grin. It's a joke she'd appreciate, if they were speaking.

Shepard turns and catches his eye. Shit. Joker drops his eyes to his own plate, cheeks burning. What is he doing?

"Joker!" It's not the first time Garrus has said his name, if the irritation thrumming in his subvocals is any indication.

"What?"

"Your tongue is hanging like a Varren's."

"Fuck you." Joker says. It's not like he's been that obvious. And she's Commander fucking Shepard, if he wants to look a little, well, it's not like he's the only one.

"I'm flattered." Garrus grins. "But it didn't seem like I'm the one you were staring at."

The Turian cultural training made mandatory for the crew of the SR-1 has exactly one payoff. Vulgarities. Joker runs a finger over the bridge of his nose.

Garrus just laughs. Maybe something's lost with additional fingers? Joker settles for flipping the bird.

But then he's distracted from their conversation by the movement of the Commander across the mess. She drops her tray with Gardener, and Joker can see it's still half full. There are bags under her eyes, made gaunter by the glowing orange of her scars. Has she slept since Miranda woke her?

Her boots turn towards him, and fuck if it's not the third time in ten minutes he's been caught staring at her.

She doesn't seem offended, though, and Shepard settles into the seat beside him, close enough that her thigh just barely brushes his own. She swipes an orange slice from his plate and pops it into her mouth. But they're fighting, right? Joker's too confused to even protest at her pirating ways.

"Hey Lawson, have a sec?" Shepard calls across the mess. Miranda looks up from what looks to be an intense conversation with Jacob (though Taylor could make a conversation about the weather tense).

"Shepard," Miranda says as she sits beside Garrus. "You called?" There are overtones of censure in her voice, and Joker can see Shepard trying to hold in her irritation. Still, Miranda didn't directly call Shepard out, which is a marked improvement.

"I want your input on our next mission."

"And the comm room wouldn't be a better choice of locations?"

The Commander quirks one eyebrow at the other woman and waits. It's a long, tense moment as the two women stare each other down. Shepard doesn't have it in her to admit defeat, so Joker feels the stutter of his own relieved breath when Miranda ducks her head. "Of course, Shepard. What did you need?"

"Take a look at this," Shepard says, pulling up the virtual display on her omni. A couple of clicks, and the holo resolves into an image of an ark ship, though judging from the design it must be at least a decade old.

"When I said I wanted a hamburger made of real cow-"

Shepard shoots him a grin. "This is the location of our next potential recruit. "Convict named Jack, being held in Purgatory, maximum security private prison."

"Private prison?" Garrus asks, his police sensibilities ruffled.

"Blue Suns owned and operated. They make most of their money threatening to release prisoners onto colonized worlds, though rumor has it they also run something of a slaving ring."

"Cerberus bought us a con? Why does no one ever spring for the sexy women's warden model?" Joker asks. Miranda hums in irritaiton.

"You can't mean to trust the Blue Suns to just hand him over," Garrus says.

"I don't. That's what I wanted to talk about. I want to break in."

Joker smirks. Stealth maneuvers on a boat this size are why he went to flight school. "Yes," he says. "Absolutely. When do we leave?"

Garrus crows his agreement, and for a moment it really does feel just like old times.

"And how do you propose to break in to a maximum security prison ship, Shepard?" Miranda asks. "The Illusive Man has no doubt paid good money for this prisoner's release, and-"

"This ship makes it's livelihood by landing on poor colonized planets and threatening to release their prisoners if their operating expenses aren't met. We're coming out of there with more than just Jack." Shepard swipes another orange slice from his plate, and she's the fucking Commander, Joker's pretty sure Gardener would give her seconds. "Garrus, any chance you have C-Sec connections that could help with the extra cargo?"

"Consider it done, Shepard."

The mess is quiet and empty but for their party by the time everything is decided. Shepard stands, and the loss of her heat leaves Joker's leg cold. "Excellent. Joker, notify me when we pass through the relay."

Shepard heads towards the elevators, and damn him if he doesn't watch her leave, no more certain of where they stand than before.


A/N: Sorry for the long delay between chapters. I started a new job, which threw my writing time into chaos for a little bit. Should be back to normal now. Thanks again for reading!