A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter... it needed a major overhaul. :P And thanks to my beta sinvraal for pointing out that it needed a major overhaul! Heheh. I will also take this time to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed and added Author or Story alerts! Your enthusiasm for the story really helps keep it flowing along!

Priorities

There were times when Joker wished he could pace without the worry of breaking a leg. Or tripping and falling on his face and breaking other things besides a leg. Like maybe both legs. Or an arm, some ribs, and his skull, perhaps. The Cerberus-funded surgeries had reinforced his bones enough that he could actually walk of his own accord without crutches, which was near a miracle in and of itself. But that didn't mean he was now unbreakable, and he had no wish to test his new thresholds with such trivial and unnecessary acts as pacing simply to occupy his pent-up nervous energy.

But damn if he didn't envy the rest of the people on this boat sometimes. They could do stuff to vent their energy… punch a wall, punch someone's jaw, jog, pace, and… other activities he preferred to pretend he didn't know about. He, on the other hand, was pretty much stuck sitting around on his ass, doing none of those things. Swimming was the extent of his physical prowess, and Cerberus had not seen fit to include a pool on the Normandy SR-2. Now that he thought about it, he would have to ask Operative Lawson about that.

Why not include a pool for the best fucking pilot in the Alliance? No, the best fucking pilot in the Alliance and Cerberus? He deserved it for all the times he'd pulled them out of close scrapes, didn't he?

In the absence of a pool, his only outlet was pushing the limits of his ship. It was, after all, just an extension of himself. Sure, most pilots claimed to feel that way, but for Joker… it was actually true. His personal lack of mobility translated into what some called a "magical ability" to pilot a starship. When he couldn't push himself, he pushed his ship.

Or at least he had, until Operative Lawson had taken issue with some of his third-shift maneuvers, marched coolly into the cockpit, and proceeded to deliver a blistering lecture about the stress thresholds of the hull and the cost of replacing drive cores and did he really want to tear the ship apart and send Shepard – who, by the way, Joker happened to know was sitting calmly in the mess, expertly catching hold of her mug of coffee at just the right moment to keep it from toppling off the table - into space again?

That had stung.

And so, the next time Lawson had gone for a shower when the ship was not docked or in FTL drive, Joker had promptly initiated a few of the "bat-shit insane" exercises she had forbid him to ever again attempt. The idea of her slip-sliding around in her fancy private shower had been uproariously funny. To his surprise, she had not rushed directly to the cockpit to deliver yet another lecture at the end of his stunt. So he had, of course, gleefully planned on torturing her with such antics whenever possible. Except, at his next opportunity, when he'd tried to flip the SR-2 around hard enough to make showering very, very difficult, he'd found himself locked out of all main ship systems.

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the panic of those endless ten minutes of complete unresponsiveness still a raw memory. Utter helplessness at the helm of his ship was Jeff Moreau's own personal nightmare. At the time, he hadn't known what was wrong or how to fix it, and EDI had only offered a maddening "a block prevents me from answering that question" when he had demanded she help him diagnose the problem. But then, just as suddenly as it had been taken away, control had been restored to him, and everything went back to normal.

Lawson had caught his eye later that day in the mess, and her steady but meaningful look had brought realization crashing down on him. She'd locked him out. A quick, careful, surgical strike to show him that she could cut his legs out from under him just as easily and much more efficiently than the Cerberus doctors who had helped him to walk.

He didn't like that at all.

He had made his unhappiness clear by warning all crew except Lawson before conducting his next Shepard-approved combat drill – which was conveniently scheduled during the Cerberus operative's sleeping hours. He had no way of knowing if he had actually succeeded in tossing her out of bed, but he'd certainly done his best.

She had not lectured him for that, either. She had locked him out of the Normandy's systems again, though. For very much longer than ten minutes. Not long enough to jeopardize their mission or compromise the ship, but long enough that Shepard herself had come to the cockpit wondering what in the hell he was doing with his time. He'd heard the commander dress down marines before, but despite his smart mouth and sometimes reckless tactics, she'd never directed that level of active displeasure at him.

Until that day.

That had been infinitely worse than any lecture Lawson could have delivered, maybe even worse than losing control of his ship.

And then he had discovered his on-board extranet access had been cut off, and he'd been locked out of the Port Observatory, preventing access to the bar. His life had been a living hell for a week, culminating with the morning his sleeper pod wouldn't open. If there had ever been a time Joker thought he might actually lose it, that was it. Even having the original Normandy torn apart around him couldn't come close to the overwhelming terror that had gripped him while stuck in that pod.

Garrus and Engineer Donnelly had eventually freed him, and he'd gotten as far away from the damn thing as he could get. And then he'd seen Lawson, standing in the corner, giving him that look again, one side of her mouth just barely curved upward.

He shuddered, pushing the memories away. Yes, unfortunately, his days of conducting "bat-shit insane" maneuvers were over. And messing with Lawson to occupy himself was also no longer an option. He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in those pods. He'd been sleeping in his chair ever since, damn her.

Joker heaved a very dramatic sigh and leaned back in his chair, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Seriously, EDI, I thought you said your processing power was ten times that of a regular ship-board VI?"

Her blue sphere of an avatar materialized from the bulkhead beside him. He often wondered why Cerberus had opted for a blue sphere instead of something more pleasant. Like Avina on the Citadel. Why not go that route? A pretty human female avatar would be far more preferable to talk to than a boring, faceless blue ball.

"That is correct, Mr. Moreau," the boring, faceless blue ball acknowledged.

"Then how come it's taking so long?" he demanded.

"It has only been forty-three point three five two nine seconds and counting since I began data analysis, Mr. Moreau."

"That's about thirty seconds longer than I thought it would take you," Joker muttered.

"I could compile the data significantly faster had you provided me with more defined search parameters," EDI offered. "I cannot determine Commander Alenko's location with one hundred percent accuracy given the limited information you provided. If you were to include input that outlined covert Alliance operations –"

"Hell no," Joker interrupted, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Not while you're still connected to that freak with the flashy eyes. I don't know that stuff, anyway. It's classified, you know. Surely you know what classified means? I haven't been a member of the Alliance for a while now… they don't really like to share that kind of information with people like me."

"It is my understanding that you have obtained limited classified information through contact channels you had previously established during your time with the Alliance," EDI said.

Joker looked to her sharply.

"There is no other way you could have come to three of the conclusions which you entered into my search paradigms," EDI explained simply. "I have already scanned and processed all relevant publicly-available Alliance information, and the events and locations you entered were not obtainable."

He narrowed his eyes at the sphere, feeling a burn of embarrassment creeping in beneath his collar at having been caught so easily. Goddamn computers and their near-instantaneous access to information...

"If you would like, I can attempt to hack Alliance encryption to gain access to classified –"

"No!" Joker blurted, horrified by the thought. "Wait… could you do that?"

"The probability of success is minimal without proper code reference, but given enough time –"

"No," Joker cut her off again. "No no no, don't do that." Well, at least Cerberus would have to work to gain entrance to classified Alliance files…

"But Mr. Moreau, without such information, my estimate of Commander Alenko's location will only be –"

"Ninety eight point eight five three percent accurate," Joker finished for her. "Yes, I know. Trust me, EDI, that's fine."

"Very well. In that case, I have finished compiling the data."

Joker sat up in his chair. "Really? Where is he?"

"Horizon. It is the third planet of the Iera System in the Shadow Sea Cluster."

Joker frowned. "Horizon? What in the hell is he doing there?"

"That question was not a part of my search parameters, Mr. Moreau. However, if you would like me to calculate -"

"No no, just forget it. Rhetorical question."

"I do not understand the purpose of –"

"Can you download your findings onto my datapad?"

"Of course, Mr. Moreau…. Done."

"Thanks, EDI. Watch the ship, would ya? I need to find Shepard."

"Commander Shepard is currently in the Port Observatory," EDI offered.

Joker rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, EDI." At least he could get into the Port Observatory again now. He leveraged himself out of his chair, grabbed the datapad, and hobbled from the cockpit.

Elizabeth Shepard had come to the Port Observatory with the intention of getting very drunk. A luxury she had not indulged in since… that time after the defeat of Sovereign. After she'd healed from her injuries, and finally taken a little shore leave. She and Kaidan had escaped back to Earth for a few days, just the two of them. Spent some time on a real beach with some real alcohol. They had both gotten quite sloshed. Stared at the full moon for hours. Told each other embarrassing stories from their youth with none of the usual weight of the past in their voices. Made love so fierce and so goddamned good that it still made her shiver to think about it.

She glanced down to the scars that still crawled around her wrists and up her forearms. Her right hand moved from her untouched drink to trace the fading lines. She could still remember so much… all the same as it was before Alchera. Surely that meant she was really alive? Surely that meant she was really still herself? The same Elizabeth. Maybe altered internally, like the SR-2, but at her core, still the same. Right?

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

He knows I'm alive. Why hasn't he tried to contact me? Doesn't he want to know if it's really me? Doesn't he care?

The door hissed open behind her and Elizabeth jumped, spinning around on her stool to face the intruder with a murderous glare.

Joker barely hesitated before making his way over to her. "Sorry, Commander," he quipped. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Elizabeth grunted. "You didn't scare me. I was just… surprised. I thought you were flying the ship."

"EDI took over for a minute," he said, placing himself carefully on the stool beside her. "I had to deliver this news to you personally."

Her pulse quickened. "What news?"

He grinned, obviously very pleased with himself. "I found him."

Shepard blinked. "Found who?"

Joker placed a datapad in front of her. "I found Alenko."

Her throat closed up at the mention of his name. She tore her eyes from Joker's face and looked down to the datapad, skimming the report: Based on provided search parameters, relevant Alliance resource allocations, and recent marine battalion movements, Commander Alenko's location was estimated, with a ninety eight point eight five three percent accuracy, to be on Horizon, the third planet in the Iera System of the Shadow Sea Cluster. She stared at the screen for a long moment, desperate hope clashing with suspicion in her chest.

She swallowed hard. "Joker… how did you…?"

He shrugged. "Called in a few favors, had EDI run the math."

A look crossed her face and his arms flew up in defense.

"Hey relax!" he sputtered. "I didn't give her anything that would compromise the Alliance or any of its members, trust me."

She eyed him for a second longer before deciding he told the truth. She sighed, looking back to the datapad and chewing at her bottom lip. "Horizon, huh? How long would it take us to get there?"

"Not long. A few hours, tops."

She nodded, considering. Thoughts of Kaidan had been haunting her since the day she'd woken up on Lazarus Station. It wasn't just that he wasn't there; it was the fact he'd thought her dead for two years. It was the realization that unlike her, he had felt every moment of every day of those two years. It was the possibility that he had moved on, found someone else.

He had attended her funeral, seen her buried, mourned, achieved some level of closure. She'd had none of that. To her, so much time had passed in only a few moments.

One way or another, she needed to know where she stood with him. She needed her own closure. She couldn't imagine what his reaction might be to seeing her again, but any reaction was better than wallowing in this miserable uncertainty.

"All right," she said slowly. "Horizon it is, then."

"Aye aye, Commander," Joker said with unusual enthusiasm. "I'll go lay in the course." He slid off his stool and disappeared through the door with surprising speed.

Shepard shook her head, looking back to her still-full beverage. Well, this was either going to make things a hell of a lot better… or a hell of a lot worse. She grimaced and threw back her drink.

Here goes nothing.

Miranda Lawson silently disapproved of going to Horizon. She watched Shepard muse over the galaxy map from the corner of the CIC, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She would have voiced her objections had Shepard not replaced her as XO the instant Vakarian had set foot aboard the Normandy. And that wouldn't have stopped her from voicing her objections except the Illusive Man had ordered her to maintain Alliance-style ranks and regulations, and had stressed that Shepard was to be allowed to do things her way on this mission. Still, Miranda was used to being a cell leader. She was used to being the organizer, the planner, the instigator, the manager. And while Cerberus analysts had predicted Horizon would be the next colony to be attacked by the Collectors; it would be a mistake to go there so soon. Getting there once the Collectors had arrived was one thing, but going beforehand would be a waste of time. Their mission parameters had not taken into account any time for Shepard to chase after her ex-boyfriend.

The Illusive Man had known Commander Alenko was on Horizon a few days ago and had alerted Lawson to this fact. They had briefly discussed a course of action and had concluded that telling Shepard about this information would only serve as a distraction. Worst-case scenario, Alenko would join Shepard's team, thereby placing an active Alliance marine smack-dab in the middle of a Cerberus operation, and emotionally-compromising Shepard, as well. Of course they had made a contingency plan, just in case. But Miranda hadn't thought it would come to that.

Now… it was getting uncomfortably close to being a possibility.

And all because of that meddlesome pilot. She had been against Jeff Moreau's appointment to the SR-2 since the beginning. He was too impulsive. Too unpredictable. No, that wasn't entirely true…his reactions to some of her displays of authority had been entirely predictable. At least he had learned his place now. That was the thing about Jeff Moreau - he didn't always play well with others. However, he seemed to be getting along all right with the rest of the crew, which was more than she had expected of him.

She had to trust the Illusive Man when it came to letting Shepard run the show, just like she had with the addition of Joker… and she did. It wasn't really so much a matter of trust - she could handle Mr. Moreau and Commander Alenko if she had to – but more a matter of personal preference. Not having to handle Mr. Moreau would have made her job all that much easier. Not having to handle Mr. Moreau and Commander Alenko would keep her job enormously easier. The paperwork explaining why an Alliance marine had to be eliminated during an operation was a nightmare, not to mention the resources that would have to be applied to make it all seem like an accident, plus the endless hours of assuring board members that everything was still legit and they had no reason to worry about retaliation from the Alliance…

It made her head hurt just thinking about it.

Shepard finished authorizing the course change and stepped down from the galaxy map. But her boots had not so much as hit the deck when Yeoman Chambers' terminal flashed with an incoming hail. The woman's fingers tapped the keyboard to see the transmission source, and then she turned to Shepard.

"Commander, the Illusive Man is on the comm for you. It's marked as urgent."

Miranda lifted an eyebrow. Good. Maybe he'd have a priority mission for her. Something that demanded they leave immediately, something that would delay a pointless trip to the Iera System.

Shepard sighed mightily, rolling her eyes. "Fine," she snapped. "I'm on my way." She disappeared into the communications room.

Lawson wasn't sure how long of a conversation it would be, but she wasn't going to leave until she found out what was going on. So she settled herself back against the wall and brought up her omni-tool, scanning through the most recent SR-2 inventories and procurement requests.

The sound of the door opening again not five minutes later greatly surprised her, and she glanced up from her reports only to see Shepard practically run from the comm room, wearing an expression Miranda had not yet seen on the woman: alarm.

"Horizon's gone silent," she announced to the CIC, then kicked on the PA system. "All personnel assume battle-stations. We are en-route to possible hot zone, Collectors assumed responsible. Repeat, all personnel to battle-stations." She clicked off the PA, then yelled up to the cockpit amidst a flurry of activity from the crew around her. "Double-time it, Moreau!"

"You got it, Commander," he shouted back, and Miranda wisely caught hold of the nearest support beam just before the inertial dampeners lagged long enough to make her stumble.

"Mordin better have something ready," Shepard muttered to herself, whisking past Miranda to vanish into the salarian's research lab.

Lawson powered down her omni-tool, heading for her quarters to do some research of her own. The Collectors on Horizon already? Just before Shepard was about to go there herself? Really? Either that was some kind of coincidence, or the Illusive Man had once again proven his brilliance. Regardless, the mission to Horizon had been given a worthwhile purpose. However it ended, it would be a good motivational tool for Shepard. If Commander Alenko was taken, it would give Shepard all the more determination to find the Collectors' base of operations and discover the reason behind the abductions as quickly as possible. And if he was killed… well, perhaps Shepard's demonstrated tendency toward desire for revenge would fuel her pursuit.

A win-win for Cerberus all around.

Feeling far more optimistic, Miranda stepped lightly into the lift and hit the button for Deck Three.