A/N: Hey, everyone...hope you're enjoying these little vignettes so far. I've purposely chosen not to cover the explosion of the Normandy in any detail, because I feel like I explored it pretty well from both Joker and Shepard's viewpoints in the original story. But mostly, I wanted to say - this chapter is "M", for...well, pretty much everything.

Hero

Joker was dizzyingly drunk. He was lying on his back, on a stranger's couch, with his pants undone and the woman's lips wrapped around his cock, while the room spun slowly. His partner was enthusiastic, but his body was not cooperating. Too much alcohol and self-pity was a lethal libido killer.

Joker would've felt bad about his poor performance, but he hadn't asked for her company. He'd been sitting alone in the bar, contentedly getting plastered, when his companion had shimmied onto the stool next to his. She'd looked vaguely familiar – he thought that maybe she'd been one of the nameless, faceless masses who'd ignored him during high school, perhaps a year or two older than he was. She'd known all about the Citadel, and the Council, and had breathlessly informed him that the local news had declared him a hero. He'd cringed and knocked back another shot. He'd wondered what she'd think if he told her that he'd been the one who'd killed the real hero of the Citadel. Commander Shepard had survived thresher maws, and geth, and Sovereign, but she hadn't been able to survive her stubborn, selfish, fucking useless pilot.

But she was getting her revenge now – oh, yeah, that was for damn sure. Shepard's memory haunted his sleeping and waking hours, alike. In his dreams, Joker could feel her next to him – his arm slung around her armored shoulders, her grip firmly hugging his waist. He never, not for one moment, felt scared when she was there. But when she tossed him into the pod, that's when the panic began to rise – he knew what was coming, even before it happened. He'd reach for her, the inches between their fingers slowly gaping into a chasm, and then she'd get knocked backwards and away, and he would wake up screaming her name.

Reality was even worse. Joker was back here on Arcturus with his parents, temporarily grounded. No ship, no friends – not a goddamn thing to distract him from his misery. The crew had scattered, completely adrift without Shepard to bind them together. He kept remembering that one stupid kiss on the Citadel, after Sovereign – the whole scene playing out in slow motion, over and over...

Shepard walked right up to him and slid a grimy, gloved hand across his cheek and into his hair. The smell of dust, blood and scorched hair assaulted his nostrils, but Joker didn't care, because this was Shepard, and he'd want her even if she'd just crawled out of a damn sewer. Then her mouth was on his, and he was so shocked that he almost forgot how to kiss - but finally, just before she was ready to pull away, he responded and clutched her to him for a precious few additional seconds. Her skin was so warm, her lips so soft, and her taste so sweet, that he never wanted to let her go. But the smile she gave him afterwards was nearly as good – full of joy, camaraderie, and triumph. He realized that he'd made her proud, and damned if, in that moment, that didn't feel like all he'd ever hoped to achieve.

It was only now that she was gone that Joker could admit that his feelings for Shepard had been growing alarmingly akin to love. And, honestly, he hated her more than just a little bit for making him feel this way and then leaving him alone.

The woman currently hunched over his crotch sat up and regarded him, pouting. "What's the matter? Don't you want me?" She splayed her hands across her bare breasts in a way that he supposed was meant to be enticing, but he was too goddamn inebriated and miserable for this. He should never have come here. Oh, well. Joker was sure that his reputation as a drunken loser was already working its way across the space station; might as well add "impotent asshole" to the rumors.

"I gotta go," Joker mumbled, trying to extricate himself from the clutches of her sofa. He staggered to his feet, zipping up his pants and trying to focus bleary eyes on the nearest exit. She sank back against the cushions muttering, "Whatever. Asshole."

Well, he'd gotten it half right. Joker was relatively certain that it would occur to her to add "limp dick" to the description later on when she discussed the encounter with her friends.

Joker stumbled out into the street and tried to get his bearings. Unfortunately, he hadn't really been paying attention during the cab ride over, but it hadn't seemed like they'd traveled too far from the bar. Now, if he could only recall exactly where he'd been imbibing in the first place…

Joker had meandered maybe half a block in a randomly chosen direction when a vehicle pulled up next to him. Two station security officers emerged, regarding him warily. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Fine."

"Do you have some ID?"

Suddenly, the absurdity of the evening hit him, and Joker began to laugh – quietly, at first; but then, a bit maniacally. The officers exchanged concerned glances, hands sliding closer to the butts of their holstered pistols.

"ID? You want to see my ID? Don't you know who I am? I'm a goddamn hero!" Joker declared, throwing his arms into the air.

Joker managed his first decent sleep in months when he threw up and then passed out in the back of the cruiser during the ride downtown.