Joker walked from the head to crew-quarters as if his feet didn't touch the ground. His recently-broken leg still ached, and his gait wasn't any more even than before, but as far as his head was concerned the Normandy's artificial gravity had stopped working when Shepard kissed him, and it still hadn't kicked back in.

He was still grinning like a loon. He knew he was grinning like a loon, because he'd noticed it in the mirror over the sink when he'd checked to make sure he didn't have black lipstick smudges. He'd thought if he did have lipstick marks, he would have grinned like a loon, but there weren't any – and he grinned like a loon anyway.

Huh. Her make-up's probably designed to the same military specs as her armor. Not that he could picture her buying make-up, but then, before tonight he'd never have pictured her kissing him, either. Well, that was a lie. He'd pictured it pretty frequently, he'd just never thought it would actually happen.

He paused a moment outside the door to flick on the light function of his omnitool. Most of the shift would be asleep, and even if a small and very stupid part of him wanted to sing as loudly as Mordin and Chakwas, he didn't want to wake anyone. The bunk room was oddly silent, lacking the usual snores and the rustle of people turning in their racks, but the hush didn't really register on him until he heard the muffled giggle.

Uh oh. For a second he thought that they all knew where he'd been and what he'd been doing and had been gossiping, but that was ridiculous. There must be some other obnoxious surprise in store.

He pretended he hadn't heard. The dim orange light of his omnitool revealed nothing unexpected on his bunk, so he sat down on the edge to pull off his boots and strip out of his uniform, happy to exchange the thick material for lighter t-shirt and shorts. He hung his hat neatly by the headboard. He took his time about massaging out the stiff spots in his injured leg, too, letting the silence grow more strained while he surreptitiously scanned his surroundings for anything out of place.

Finally he gave up and crawled into bed. He stretched out, adjusted his pillow, rolled over – and then he saw it.

The hush was practically funereal.

Joker clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the bottom of the bunk above him.

"Y'know," he began conversationally, "I took down a reaper. Flew the Normandy in under it's nose after the barriers went down and shot its black-metal heart."

He was certain they were all awake, now. He'd pitched his voice to carry, and if anyone had actually been trying to sleep they'd have given him an earful. They're wondering where the hell I'm going with this. He grinned in the dimness.

"I was on the ship when plant zombies started tearing at our locks, moaning, while we all hoped Shepard would survive long enough to kill this whole unique mind-controlling-plant species and save our asses. Then she commits her bit of horticultural genocide and comes back slathered in its guts, and zombie guts, and maybe some human guts, smelling like the worst thing a varren ever puked, and I held my nose and got us the hell out of there."

He thought for a moment and added, "That was after flying through the errupting volcano."

The bunkroom was silent, his audience enrapt.

"I watched people I've known for ten years fall to the geth. Ships piloted by people I was in flight school with, exploding into fire and metal confetti. Then a month later, the collectors did the same to the SR1. Now I've saved all your butts from the same ship. I'm working for my undead commander, and our next stop is the center of the fucking galaxy. Given all that, do you know what I really don't need in my life?"

In the total silence that greeted his question, the sound of the tape ripping as he tore the poster off the bottom of the bunk sounded as loud as gunfire.

"I don't need Hotchkin's damn Blasto pin-up. That's what I don't need."

There was a short, sharp bark of laughter from Robson, above him. Across the room, Patel got out "Sorry, guys, he definitely wins," through a storm of giggles, while Hotchkins pleaded "Don't rip it, Joker!"

He briefly considered securing the poster in his locker and asking Kasumi or Tali to put it some place really bizarre in the morning, but he was still on cloud nine, and it made him uncharacteristically magnanimous. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "G'night."

The good-natured laughter subsided, and a more normal quiet developed, full of deep breathing and muffled sound. When Robson's piercing snore started up, Joker didn't even make his habitual scowl-and-groan – though he did make sure his ear plugs were well seated.

In that silence, he was finally alone again with his thoughts, and better yet, his recent memories.

When he closed his eyes he could still feel Shepard's lips warm on his, her tongue in his mouth. Could hear the small, distraught moan she'd made when EDI informed them that Grunt had broken three storage crates and a crewman's leg and she was needed in the cargo deck immediately. Which was why he was back in crew-quarters, careening between states of utter disbelief, sweet frustration, and giddy bliss. He cursed Grunt and the hapless crewman who'd gotten on his bad side, and EDI for delivering the message. They'd made good use of the all-too-brief elevator ride, though, the time limit and the somewhat public place adding an extra urgency to their kisses, a hungrier edge to soft lips and gently exploring tongues.

He wanted to go back and have more time, to talk more and to touch a lot more, to give this momentous development the time it deserved – but he didn't regret a moment of the wonderful, amazing, frenzied kissing that had actually happened. He didn't wish he could re-do it; he just wanted to do it more. He'd been starved of touch for so long he'd almost forgotten how good it felt to hold and be held. The warm, solid feel of her hands on his back had been enough to make him shiver. Her tongue in his mouth enough to make him hard. His body reacted to the remembered feel of hers pressed against him, even through their uniforms.

Commander Shepard kissed me. Kissed. Me.

Eventually, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

–––

Rhi paused before she entered the elevator, schooling her expression to reflect the businesslike demeanor her crew expected and deserved of their commander, and not the euphoria that danced in her heart.

You're 29, she told herself (a little voice in her head said '31,' which would have been irritating if it hadn't been Joker's). You've already been dead once. Grow the hell up.

She didn't want to, though.

It hadn't gone according to plan, but then, nothing in the last few days had. Or last few weeks, really. Or since she'd woken up. Or, more realistically, since she'd touched the prothean beacon. Or perhaps since batarians had invaded Elysium nine years ago. No, since she'd taken Ness to the hospital. That had definitely been the start of things Not Going According To Plan.

This is the best totally-not-a-plan yet.

The elevator ride didn't help. She couldn't see it without remembering how she'd backed Joker against the wall and (carefully) leaned into him, or the hot-sweet taste of his mouth on hers. When she'd first kissed him he'd been too shocked to respond, and it'd been just a hair more exciting than kissing a bulkhead, but damn, he'd made up for that fast. She didn't know what she'd expected – shyness? She didn't exactly know how extensive his romantic past was – but Joker was amazing with his mouth.

And that was only kissing.

She looked at the spot in the elevator again and shivered. Damn, girl. You'd think you'd been pure as a fucking angel since you were revived, instead of making good use of your friend-with-batteries. Considering her history included her fair share of one-night-stands and purely physical flings, the fact that kissing had her this excited was something of a novelty. Maybe it was the new skin – skin that had been so damn sensitive those first few days after she'd awoken in Miranda's lab. Maybe it was the length of time since she'd been with anyone – years, even if she didn't count the time on the Lazarus table.

Maybe she just really liked Joker.

Because it wasn't just kissing. It was kissing her pilot, who'd been there for her even when she'd no reason to expect it, who always spoke his mind but hid his real self so deep it was a constant lure to her curiosity, who'd been brave enough to confront his commanding officer about her truly bad behavior – and then been willing to indulge it.

Kissing him had probably been unethical, but she didn't regret it in the least. Hell, if she hadn't been tired and tense, she probably wouldn't have had the necessary amount of Oh-Fuck-It to pull it off. Still, when the combat situation was bad and you saw your one chance slipping away, you damn well took it. Besides, she'd rationalized at the time, she'd owed him for the pool game. He could hardly say he hadn't asked for it.

The doors slid open on the CIC, and she stopped to check in with Kelly and Jacob before heading down to the crew deck for coffee. The Normandy was underway, and she had time to see how Tali was holding up before she settled down to actual work.

If she could settle down enough to work, that is.

If you can't, this was a really, really bad idea.

Sobering thought, that. She poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a plate. Joker didn't appear in the mess in the ten minutes it took her to inhale her breakfast. Probably good – if she didn't see him until she was into her routine, it'd be easier not to give anything away. She topped up her coffee and went down to engineering.

Tali was already hard at work, Gabby beside her. The quarian had been pulling double duty ever since Donnelly had been caught in the bomb, and with that followed by her trial, she had every right to be exhausted and upset, but the heavy work load seemed to have the opposite effect on her. Being busy suited Tali down to the ground. She and Gabby were birds of a feather, in that regard. The other engineer had been back at work while her bruises were still deep blue-purple, helping shoulder part of her injured partner's load.

"Shepard!" Tali said. "Good morning."

"How you doin, Tal?" Rhi asked. Gabby, ever sensitive, found a task at the farther workstation to give them some space.

"I'm okay, Shepard. I mean… I still have a lot to think about, about my father. But I'm alright."

"Glad to hear it. Tali vasNormandy."

Tali bobbed her head. "Shepard, I wanted to say… thank you. For the extra time on the Rayya. For everything else, too, of course, but… I didn't know it, but I really needed that."

"Of course."

Tali's voice brightened. "I got you something!" She turned away before Shepard could respond and pulled a wrapped package out of a locker. It was big, floppy, and neatly wrapped, and Tali thrust it into her hands.

"Tali, you didn't need to – you shouldn't have. You know I'd do my best to help you no matter what. Hell, I'm just happy you're here." Rhi looked at the package and then her friend in confused pleasure. People didn't just get her things. She didn't know how to react.

"Shepard, I know," Tali said with fond exasperation, "I wanted to – and I think you'll like it." She bounced a little on her toes. "Come on, open it."

Rhi juggled package and coffee-cup for a moment and set the latter down on a console. She kept looking up at Tali while she picked off the tape, searching the blank mask for some kind of clue. Finally she tore the paper aside.

It was fabric, in the quarian style, fine weaving laced with curving forms made of grouped parallel lines, the soft violet-blue of dawn patterned with the deep rich blue of midnight. Shepard ran her hand over it. Whatever they used for their fabrics, it was exquisitely soft. "Tali," she breathed, "It's beautiful."

"I know how you feel about these colors everywhere." Tali gestured with one three-fingered hand at the black-and-white of Shepard's uniform. "And if there's one thing we do well, it's color."

"It's gorgeous." Rhi ran her hand over the fabric again. What looked like two colors was actually many more, threads of a multitude of hues blending together to create that rich effect. As far as one could get from flat Cerberus black and white. "But, um… what is it?"

"A bedspread. I didn't think you'd suddenly want to start dressing like a quarian." Tali laughed, delighted. "I take it you like it?"

At a loss for words, Shepard wrapped Tali in hug by way of response, package squished between them. "I'm glad you're alright, Tal. And I'm glad you're still here."

Tali squeezed back. "Me too. Now get back to your work so I can get to mine. We're still down a worker, and these engines won't take care of themselves."

"Yes, ma'am," Shepard teased, and she went off to drop the blanket in her quarters before returning to the crew-deck to look in on Ken Donnelly.

Donnelly had come out of surgery while they were still on Omega, waiting for intel on Trex's whereabouts. The battered engineer had woken bleary with pain, medication, and the after-effects of anesthesia, but he had awoken. There'd been an anxious few days while he did little more than moan, but when he started complaining about how the back brace cramped his style and tried to convince Chakwas of the medical virtues of whiskey, Shepard had breathed a sigh of relief. His injuries certainly hadn't changed his personality – though she suspected that Chakwas wished they had.

The door to the medbay slid open on an unexpectedly full view of the engineer. Shepard put her fingers to the bridge of her nose and growled, "Donnelly."

"S'not my fault I'm convalescin'," he said cheerfully.

Shepard had seen a lot of her people go through the medbay. One thing they all had in common was an intense desire to get out of the flimsy hospital gowns and back into real clothes as soon as they possibly could. Donnelly seemed to be the one exception to the rule.

Hospital gowns opened at the back, of course, but did it really have to be that open?

The engineer turned slowly to face her, and the unexpected full moon waned.

He kept one hand on the nearest bed for support, and grinned. "See? I'm even getting' around on my own pins, now!" He was indeed up and about – with the help of the bed, a cane, and the watchful doctor.

"God, take him away," Chakwas said, and flung her hand to her forehead dramatically.

"Ach, y'love the company, woman. And you needed the audience for your little duet night before last."

"…Duet?" Shepard ventured.

"Oh, aye, the doc and the mad scientist gave a little show the other night."

Rhi raised an eyebrow at Chakwas. "You're full of surprises, doc."

"Hidden depths, dear, hidden depths." She smiled. "Mr. Donnelly, as you can see, is doing quite well considering the spinal damage. I expect him to make a full recovery."

"I'm right here, ye daft old woman."

"A fact I keep trying to suppress, Ken."

"It'll be good to see you up and about again, Donnelly," Shepard said, and added, "And in uniform."

"But it breathes better than a kilt!"

"That was an order, engineer."

His complaints rang in her ears all the way to the elevator.

–––

A light on his display warned Joker that the commander was on deck. He kept his eyes on his work – he certainly wasn't going to crane his head around like a love-sick puppy.

He did check the CIC cams. He was only human.

Shepard was standing near the galaxy map, talking with Miranda and looking her normal, put-together professional self. Seeing her now it was hard to imagine her as having a sexual or romantic side at all. Her voice when she asked for a status update was crisp and controlled. An hour later, she requested a whole handful of reports – not the day-to-day busywork Miranda was always on about, but a far more interesting set of hypotheticals – for a meeting the next morning. She still hadn't come up to visit him, and Her voice gave nothing away. She was the Commander to the hilt, this morning.

"EDI," he asked, "d'you remember saying Shepard was a bad actor?"

"I am incapable of 'forgetting' unless data is intentionally deleted, Mr. Moreau. My full statement was an observation to the effect that Shepard is a rather poor actor outside of a few known roles. May I ask why?"

"Of course!" Well, 'near-emotionless commander' is certainly a roll she knows well. Stop worrying.

"It would be customary to have answered the implied question, Mr. Moreau. I believe you are being 'annoyingly literal.'"

"Pot, kettle. I learned it from you, Thing."

EDI blinked twice, then asked, "Mr. Moreau, why did you ask me to repeat my earlier statement about Shepard's acting ability?"

He snorted. "I said you could ask. I didn't say I'd answer you. Now, about those simulations – I want to see what we could do if we threw a gravity well into the mix…"

The strategic simulations kept him interested well into the boring travel shift. Finally, he heard Shepard – Rhi? – Commander Shepard, you're on duty – walk up behind him. He tensed.

Her hand fell, not on his shoulder, but on the back of his chair. Like it always did.

"How we doin', Joker?"

Keeping his voice casual took all his concentration. He rattled off their speed and ETA, then added in the same business-like tone, "and I'm afraid I may be delusional."

"Hmm," she said dryly, "Could affect the mission. Better come talk to me after you get off shift."

"Aye aye, Commander."

And that was it. He glanced at the clock as she walked away. Only five hours thirty minutes left of his shift. Holy shit, what was he going to do? What was he going to say? Just show up at your commander's door, hey, I'm pretty sure we were kissing last night, and you seemed to enjoy it, could we do that again? How about a date? I've got a bunk underneath Snoring Champion Robson and two seats in the common mess hall, it'll be great!

Yesterday, trying to plan how to get distance from her with minimal loss of dignity, he'd thought he couldn't have gotten more nervous. He'd been wrong.

He checked the clock. Five hours, twenty four minutes.

He went back to the simulations, only to be interrupted by EDI.

"Busy, Thing!"

"Mr. Moreau. Are you aware that you are… humming?"

"I was?"

"Indeed. It is difficult to be certain considering your unreliable sense of pitch, but over the last fifteen minutes I have collected enough data to run a match test on available audio files. You appear to be trying to produce the melody of 'Paper Moon.'"

"Appear to be trying to produ – You are really a downer, Thing. Jeez. Kick a guy when he's up."

"This is interesting, as I have not be able to find a fifteen minute long version of the song in question."

"Yeah, well. I forgot how the bit after the 'canvas sky' goes. There's a tree or something."

"'Muslin tree.' Please do not hum."

Four hours, 39 minutes. No humming. Right.

He sang instead. Quietly. 'Cause it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me...

EDI didn't interrupt again.

–––

Four hours and 53 minutes later, he slouched outside Shepard's cabin door, still unsure how to enter, what to say. Finally he asked EDI to announce his presence, not because he'd found his bravery, but because anything would be less pathetic than having the security vid show he'd been dithering outside Shepard's door for an hour.

Shepard stopped an awkward two meters away and smiled at him."Joker."

Is it possible she doesn't know what to do next, either? That's kinda cute. His hesitance had vanished at the sight of her smile. "You wanted to see me, Com-man-der?" he drew out her title to make it sound insolent. "And my delusions, of course."

"Mostly you," she said, nodding towards the seating area, "But tell me about them, too."

He tried not to look at the bed as he followed her invitation down to the couch. It was harder than it sounded; not only was it decadently huge for a frigate, but it was blue. He could've sworn the covers were white like every other textile on the ship. Don't stare at her bed, jack-ass.

"Delusions, Joker?" she prompted.

"Oh, y'know, remembering things that probably didn't happen." He shifted on the seat ad glanced at the ceiling, idly scratching his ear. "Things that aren't really appropriate for someone in my position to be thinking about."

Her expression froze, becoming instantly more reserved.

Shit. She thinks I want out! Wrong thing to say, wrong, wrong"For a symptom of oncoming madness, they were… well, I think I'd rather not be sane. Sorry. I'm, er, having trouble with words at the moment. Madness, you know."

She leaned forward a bit, arms on her knees, eyes on his, and murmured "So show me."

It was a long way to lean – he should have sat closer – so he had plenty of time to worry that if he really was mad he'd be spaced for presumption, but her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted in anticipation.

It was chaste compared to the hungry exploration EDI had interrupted the night before. He kissed her gently, not tentative but sweet, lips brushing hers once, twice, three times… and then her head hit the brim of his hat, knocking it askew, and his eyes opened.

He leaned back, searching for a reaction. Her lips remained parted for a moment, and then her eyes opened, warm and brown.

"I like this madness." She shifted closer. "Why're you so sure you're delusional?"

"Well," he said, "If it was a fantasy, I'd have been way more suave, and if it was a dream, I probably would have ended up running naked through space-station corridors chased by a pink varren and looking for my homework."

"And why can't it be real?" Her voice was low and throaty, and her leg warm against his.

He swallowed. "Well, it seems pretty unlikely." He took his hat off and ran a flustered hand through his hair, then realized how awful it must look.

Before he could put his cap back on Shepard intercepted his hand and turned it over in hers. The white finger-splint was stark against her palm. She frowned at it. "I think I lost track of what was 'likely' when I woke from the dead. Lost that, my temper, two years, and apparently my alliance officer ethics. Didn't lose my crush on my pilot, though." She winked. "So forget likely. Care to think about what you want, instead?"

"I don't have to think about it. I've already thought about it a lot. With visuals and everything."

She said, "Joker, I'm being serious," but the corner of her mouth twitched upward, and her eyes were dancing. "Hell, even civilians frown on this kind of thing. I am still your boss. And there are good reasons for that rule, which we both know." She sighed. "But damn it, I have a hard time giving a shit about Cerberus regs."

"Have you actually read 'em?" He turned his hand over, but the splint kept him from twining his fingers with hers.

"Ha. Nope. Have you?"

"Nah. I think Jacob might have."

"Huh? Why bring up Jacob?"

"Oh, just that I think he's the only one. It came up one night at lights-out, and it turns out everyone pretty much chucked the binder in the bottom of their locker."

"…Miranda?" Shepard shook her head. "Of course not. She's pretty sure she makes the rules. Why read 'em?" She looked at him sideways. "But you're still evading the point. Inherent imbalance of power and all that."

"Inherent imbalance of power my ass. I could just fly away and leave you planet-side if you ever irritated me."

"What?"

"You know I'm enough of a jack-ass to say 'no' in the worst possible way if I wanted to, and we both know I'm just too damn good at my job for you to take revenge by killing me in my sleep." He grinned. "Commander."

He'd shocked her into laughing, but she winced theatrically at the title. "Commander?"

"Rhiii." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want to try this, and believe me, I didn't think of it just because you brought it up. You've been keeping me up nights for weeks. At least." Maybe years. "Now…" he turned towards her and slipped his unbroken left hand around her waist. "What'd you say about an old crush on your pilot?"

She laughed and kissed him. "What'd you say about pink varren and homework?"

"Hey, I don't explain the stupid recurring dreams, I just have 'em." He pushed her back against the arm of the couch and leaned over her. He was wonderfully conscious of the heat of her body beneath him, the easy laughter in her brown eyes. "We've run into all the nightmare fuel anyone could ever want, but it's always a late assignment when I was twelve or some shit."

"I'd think you'd be happy for that." She shifted enough to pull her legs up onto the couch, bending the one on the outside to keep him from falling off and stretching the other out behind him.

He moved to take better advantage of the space she'd made. "Are you kidding? My sixth grade teacher was fucking terrifying." His words were muffled against her skin.

"Awesome. Maybe she – ohh –" she rolled her head back as he brushed his lips along her neck. "Mm. Maybe she can fight the collectors," she finished.

"That is the best plan ever." He brought his attention back to her wide, inviting lips, and ran his tongue along the bottom one. "Then we could focus on important things."

She didn't answer – unless catching his bottom lip gently in her teeth was an answer.

He was happy to respond in kind. He lost himself in her, in the soft warmth of her kisses, the strength of the leg against his side, the soft sounds of pleasure she made. Her hand had found its way up underneath his shirt, caressing fingers sending radiating heat through him. He couldn't quite reciprocate – he was a lot more stable if he leaned on both arms – but he managed to pull her collar aside enough to lay a line of kisses along the end of her collar bone until Rhi ran her hand around his neck and up through his short hair, pulling him back up for a deeper kiss. He was intensely aware of everywhere they touched, especially the heat where their hips met. He let her body take more of the weight off his arms, encouraged by the subtle pressure of her hand on his back.

"Commander Shepard," EDI's synthesized voice interrupted his bliss, "There appears to have been a slight error in one of the standard navigation functions, resulting in an undetected diversion from our scheduled course. Ms. Mercer requests the assistance of Helmsman Moreau."

The AI's voice had never sounded more grating.

"Fuuuck…" Shepard hissed. The hand on his head relaxed a little, but didn't drop. When she opened her eyes he saw frustration equal to his own.

"Damn it." He took a deep breath to get his voice under control. "EDI, how 'slight'?"

"The initial error was well within parameters, but it has now been compounded over some hours."

The warmth of Rhi's body under him was the most important thing in the world. He struggled to care about ships and space travel and his damn job instead. "The shit? Just tell Mercer to get us back on course."

"She expressed concern at the possibility of the error recurring, and is in some distress."

"She's in some distress?" He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. She does not know distress.

"Poor kid. You better go sort it out." Shepard's arms tightened around his back, making going anywhere impossible. "This is part of proving the regs wrong, I suppose." With one final full body shudder that made parting even harder, she let go and gently pushed him to his feet.


author's note: Apologies for the late chapter. I lost power a few days ago due to heavy snowfall in my area, and my planned one-day-delay stretched out to a few days of hunkering near the fire, playing music in the dark. I hope the chapter is no less enjoyable for the wait. I'm dipping my toe into writing slightly steamier scenes, and it's definitely a stretch in a new direction - any feedback on its effectiveness or lack thereof is much appreciated!