Casus Belli

Commandant's Chambers, Hades Station, [Data Corrupted]
December 21, 2183

The Illusive Man read over Operative Chambers written report, a frown forming on his face. Losing Moreau would have been a serious setback. Until they could field test the viability of the bone weave technology in the field, and on a live human body – not a cadaver or an alien – he didn't feel comfortable using it for Shepard's reconstruction. Moreau was the best candidate because of his bones fragility. Vrolik was so rare that searching for another candidate would cost too much time. Shepard's body was still a corpse in cryo-stasis and no where near the viability they were expecting when Dr. T'Soni handed it over to them. Vacuum exposure had seemingly damaged the body more than they had initially realized.

Of course, Cerberus would never have had to resort to using Moreau to begin with had Rear Admiral Kahoku not investigated Banes death. They had already had a viable candidate and had successfully injected the nanites at the Ontarom facility. The Illusive Man shook his head at that. Banes. His extortion racket on the side of Project Sandworm had cost Banes his life and exposed the entire military arm and part of the scientific arm to the Alliance. It was unfortunate that Kahoku had gotten a message out to Commander Shepard. Had Kahoku not gotten to her, then she would not have raided the military bases and Corporal Toombs would not have escaped. Toombs wouldn't have been able to seek revenge, and the original Lazarus cell wouldn't have been taken out by Toombs' mercenary squad. The whole fiasco had fallen like dominoes because of one man's greed.

Cerberus had lost a lot of time, money and valuable data to Banes' mistake.

Illusive Man lit a cigarette, his fifth for the day, and welcomed the soothing effects his smoking vice had on his mood. His eyes read over Chambers report once again, and he took note of the fact that Boaz had given her one dosage of medication. He called up Boaz's last report. The comm stamp indicated that Boaz had sent it while he was in transit to Bekenstein.

Boaz was supposed to check in with Operative Pritchard nearly fourteen hours ago. So far, no word. Cerberus had traced Boaz's passport and credit chit. The doctor had arrived on Bekenstein sixteen hours ago, passed through customs, ate and rented a taxi. Then nothing. The taxi had not returned to its station to download its fare meter – or its GPS information. They still had no set data on where the Alliance safe house was located. Its location was not stored in any database system Cerberus had access to.

According to Boaz's report, Chambers' medication didn't affect the vector virus at all. It only relieved her more prohibitive symptoms – such as fever, cough and muscle aches. The virus would actively begin to infect others if they did not administer the antiviral medication developed to kill it. Again, the doctor gave the estimation of the end of the year. The news was troubling. Chambers would need to be put down if Boaz couldn't control the virus or who it infected. Although the Illusive Man valued her as an operative - she had never failed him - he didn't want anything else to be led to Cerberus' front door. There was too much at stake, especially now that he had confirmed that the Shadow Broker was involved somehow with the Collectors.

It was also troubling that Boaz hadn't checked in. The Illusive Man didn't like to be kept in the dark. It made him nervous. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he knew that he wouldn't like it.

Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System
December 23, 2183

Joker had been out of the red for two days when they – who decided he had no idea – shipped his ass out of CritCare and to the rehabilitation center a few floors down, where he'd been told his PT would begin. He wiggled his toes under the blanket, pleased his body no longer ached all over from the nanites building structures against his bones to keep them from breaking.

That thought sent a thrill down his spine. He wouldn't have to worry about falling and a wayward fractured bone puncturing something vital. Falling had been a constant fear – one that he made sure no one knew about by making it abundantly clear that Joker didn't need help. He had worked – and continued to work – his ass off proving himself to everyone around him.

He set his chin in determination. I'm getting out of here.

He tossed off the hospital bed blankets and looked at his legs sticking from out of the hospital gown: Pale, thin, hairy with a myriad of scars from surgeries over the years. There were calluses on each side of his ankles and knees from his braces. Each foot sported new scars from the ports imbedded and removed for the bone weave nanites.

He began a small regimen of stretches. The only way to get out was to walk out. And he was determined to do it - in less time it took normal people.

I'm gonna walk again.

He could walk with help – meaning someone, so far Ashley or the nearest orderly, had to physically support him; he hadn't been gifted with crutches or a braces for his ankle and knees yet. It was usually to get him to the bathroom – he refused to wear a damn diaper for any longer than he had to; he was done with that humiliation – but earlier that morning, Ashley helped him to the window so he could look out and watch the ships come in.

He had no idea what had possessed him to suggest it. It had been such a mistake. He'd made a flirtatious comment to rile her – she always had the best reactions – and she'd gotten all flustered. Then she'd surprised the hell out him by all but fleeing the room after she got him back to bed, saying she had last minute Christmas shopping to do.

As much as he hated to admit it, her abrupt departure hurt. Shopping over spending time with him? Rejection was something he had thought he built up a callus to. Sex was never that easy with his condition – and thinking about Ashley that way made him hot and damned uncomfortable at the same time. She was someone he trusted. Like Beck. But Ash's reaction wasn't something that he'd expected from her. Especially since she was a friend who knew exactly what his condition was and what his limitations were. He was fragile. Of the crew, only she, Dr. Chakwas, Commander Shepard and Alenko knew exactly how fragile. And Joker wished Alenko hadn't found out, but the biotic was one of Dr. Chakwas assistants, so it was only a matter of time before Alenko had thrown a bunch of questions his way. The void was still there from Alenko's death. Ashley and the salarian team had come first. Joker could only get the Normandy to one location in time, and he'd been closer to the AA tower when Alenko set the timer.

Joker began another series of stretches as he thought about Ashley. He knew she cared about him. Even before, on the Normandy. She was one of the few people who accepted his smart mouth with one of her own. And he liked it. She gave as good as she got. Ash was supportive too - not something he expected when he first met her. Hell, she'd been here since he'd awakened last month. And again when he'd awakened from the surgery. He'd been drawn to put his hand in hair as she slept just to remind himself he was alive. As he did a few experimental leg lifts, he recalled the silkiness of her hair on his fingertips.

Guilt weighed heavily on him. She didn't have to sit with him. She didn't need to be hampered by someone like him. Joker was glad for her company; having someone to talk to was refreshing. He just hoped he hadn't scared her off because of his disease.

Nothing says "confidence destroyer" like getting your CO spaced, he thought morbidly as he tried to do a few sit-ups.

He was in mid sit-up when Kelly Chambers entered wearing a grin and a dark-green bodysuit that plunged in the front, enhancing the transluscence of her skin and clung to all her curves, igniting Joker's blood.

"How are we today?" she greeted, her pleasant voice cheerful and bubbly.

He swallowed as his eyes travelled down her lithe body.

Damn.

Boötis Medical Center, Arcturus Station, Arcturus System
December 23, 2183

Ashley nodded to the guard posted outside the door as she entered Joker's hospital room. She was glad they moved Moreau to the rehab floor. His room was easier to get to now. But that wasn't the only reason. He was finally cleared and out of the red! In the past week since his agreeing to the surgery, the stress was enough to give her gray hairs.

At least he appeared to be recovering quickly. Dr. Chakwas had confided earlier that day that she'd never seen such recovery time and attributed it to the 'bone weave' and the fact that it pumped medi-gel directly into his system. Ashley hadn't understood. The whole procedure was above her pay grade.

"Doesn't medi-gel, you know, harden?" she had asked.

Dr. Chakwas had chuckled. "Only the topical version. Subcutaneous medi-gel increases cell communication to speed up the inflammatory process and reduce healing time." The doctor had shaken her head at that. "I sound like a damn Sirta Foundation infomercial."

Ashley stopped in her tracks, mind benumbed, at the sight of the red head, the physical therapist – whatever her name was – hanging over Joker's bed in the tightest clothing Ash had ever seen a physical therapist wear.

What the hell?

Just what kind of physical therapy was she providing?

With silly grin on her face and her boobs all but hanging out of the top, the woman was feeding him red gelatin, and Joker was smiling in return accepting each spoonful like an infant in highchair. Ash looked away hastily, chastising herself for the sudden spike of jealousy. It shouldn't bother her. Joker had a way with women. She'd never met someone so confident - most of the time in bordered on arrogance, but still. She moved restlessly into the room, nodding to Joker who raised an eyebrow to her.

She tossed her shopping bag onto her cot, surreptitiously ignoring the red head as she cooed to Joker, and he let her put the spoon in his mouth again. Ashley felt her temper rise in response, and she did her best to quell it.

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

"Have fun Christmas shopping, Doll?" Joker asked, interrupting her mantra.

"Yep," she replied, snagging her datapad to check her e-mail and dropped into the chair furthest from his bed. Hopefully, Mom picked up her Christmas e-card. She didn't look up at him.

The red head all but pounced. "Oh! That sounds like fun!"

"Not this close to Christmas," Ash told her. It was the truth. Shopping at Christmastime was the equivalent of going up against two platoons of geth Colossi with only the Mako. "I got you something, Joker, but you have to wait until Christmas to open it."

He gave her a snort like she wouldn't make him wait. Just you watch, jackass.

"Do you celebrate?" the woman asked. Covertly, Ashley watched as she smiled again at Joker as he took another bite of the gelatin. He was enjoying getting fed a little too much.

Ash nodded, but said nothing, her blood boiling. It was the Normandy all over again.

Damn it.

She was an adult, not some lovesick teenager! Joker was her friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. And there were regs. Don't forget about those, dumb-ass. She was a Noncom; he was an Officer. Although she had yet to tell him, she was on duty. Regs were in play here. She didn't have time to be swooning over… over someone she thought gave a damn about her. Apparently, until there was a red head willing to do anything for him.

Just like the Normandy.

It had especially hurt to catch him and Rebecca Hendricks in the head. The memory of his head thrown back, cap on the floor, and the red head kneeling before him pleasuring him burned Ashley more than she cared to admit.

Thwarted by two red heads in one year – she wondered what she had done to be subjected to this type of torture.

The physical therapist cooed at him a final time, and Ashley's head snapped up angrily. Ash narrowed her eyes at the woman. The therapist was not good for Joker. No way. That was not physical therapy. That was… was…

Ashley had to take calming breaths.

Besides, it was Ashley's duty to protect him. Even from her.

Casus belli – an event or political occurrence that brings about a declaration of war

(Used way out of context, but the definition was the inspiration for the chapter.)

Comments welcomed.