"I could hold my nerve for what I deserve

You never asked me why

I didn't really think that something could really happen between us"

Flight Facilities, I Didn't Believe ft Elizabeth Rose

The kiss was perfect. It was like the feeling he got when breaking free of clouds and soaring up into the open sky. It felt just like the part when the stars lay out before him and everything below fell away. He lived for those thrilling few seconds right ahead of the artificial gravity kicking in, when he felt one with the galaxy. As he lay back in his bunk, he replayed again and again the look in her eyes that made him feel like those seconds could sometimes be found with his feet still on the ground, unbelievable as it seemed.

He spun his cap on his finger, thinking about how Shepard had looked so breathless, her cheeks so rosy when he pulled away that he didn't have to guess at what she was thinking; surely it was the same thoughts making his own heart race. Of course, though, nothing was that simple. He grinned to himself, remembering Chakwas' expression as she came off the elevator to chastise Shepard for not being in her quarters resting. Little did she know, he thought as he spun the cap around his fingertip faster, she'd probably have been in her quarters just a minute later anyway. He bit his lip to stifle a cheeky little laugh. Maybe not resting, though.

"Alright, what's so funny?" Asked Kelly Chambers from across the aisle. The hat flew off his finger and knocked her datapad out of her hands. "Ah!" She exclaimed.

"Whoops," he said, still suppressing laughter. "Here, give it back," he said and reached out.

"Don't apologise or anything," she said with a pout, and ignored his hand, inspecting the hat instead.

"If I'd brained you with my modelling knife I might, but it's a hat, give it back."

She put it on backwards and stuck her tongue out at him, making a show of going back to her datapad. "Mine now. What were you giggling about, anyway? I don't trust… this," she said, drawing a circle in the air around his face.

"I'm not giggling. What's up with you?" He asked.

"You first."

"No, hat first. Then answers," he said.

"Are these standard issue? Maybe you should request another one, because I'm keeping this." Kelly looked at herself in the little mirror she kept on her bunkside wall. "Call it a Jerk Tax for flinging it around," she said, winking at him.

He scowled. "Hope you like asari scale lice."

She ignored his outstretched hand again, hurling it at him so fast it was a blur. He grinned and put it on the little hook on the bedpost. "That's what I thought. Alright. I guess… I kinda feel like a teenager again tonight. There's your answer."

"That's unique to tonight?" She asked with a catty raise of her eyebrows. After pausing a beat, she gestured to her datapad. "I'm looking at some intel on Jack. I'm trying to figure out how to get through to her. She's a tough nut to crack."

"Yeah. She'll crack your nut if you're not careful," he warned as he lay back down. "You'd probably like that, though," he added and snickered.

"Ugh, 'teenager' is right," she shot back, though her hidden smile told him she had taken his joke in the spirit it was intended. Eh, she's not so bad, he thought and watched her work for a moment, taking notes on one pad and reading from the other.

"Didn't Taylor say he'd been talking to her, lately?" Joker offered. "You could see what he thinks."

"Mmm," she responded with a suspicious lilt to her tone. "He did say that. I'm not so sure there's a terrific amount of talking going on there, though. I could be wrong. What do you think, Joker? You watch people a lot, too."

"I dunno if he's taken it in that direction. He might be working on it though. I think he probably has an in with her because he's a biotic like she is," he reasoned. "He's also not a big Cerberus fanboy, which wins him points with her, even if he does work for them right now. Probably cancels out." He crossed his arms, tapping his finger as he thought about the way Taylor had refocused Jack at the beginning of the poker round. "He's got her attention, that's for sure. But it's not gone that far yet. He wasn't able to stop her once she decided she'd had enough."

"That's pretty observant. Thanks," she said, and jotted down a few notes. She gave him a bright smile. He almost returned it. Almost.

"Uh-huh," he said. "So, has anyone ever asked Jack what she wants? There's gotta be somethin' in that black, shriveled up little heart of hers."

"Well, I've tried, but-"

"Hah, no, okay I'll rephrase that. Has anyone except you asked Jack what she wants. Your approach would be way off. No offense."

"What do you mean?" she asked, lifting her stylus from the pad and tilting her head.

"Look, you - and sometimes Shepard, too - you guys are too nice to Jack. She's not used to that. Doesn't trust it and it freaks her out. You notice how every time Shepard tried to de-escalate, Jack escalated? It's classic stuff, come on. I bet the same thing happened to you," he said, and looked over at her. "A few little nothings and then she blew her top, right?"

"Right." She nodded. "I'd thought being consistent might wear her down. As for the Commander, I think she just doesn't know any other way to be," sighed Chambers. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it kind of sounds like you're volunteering for the job."

"Pfft, yeah, no. No way. Listen, I'm daring, not dumb. Go pick it up with Taylor, see if he'll help. That's all I got for you," he said and picked up a datapad of his own. "Time to go argue with idiots on the extranet. Goodnight," he said, and flicked his bunk's light off, drawing the curtain up. He preferred to just look at the faintly glowing screen in the dark.

Of course, arguing with idiots was only half of what he intended to do, but as time passed and he browsed around the usual things that piqued his interest, he found himself not quite seeing what he was looking at. It was all very nice, sure, but also a little boring perhaps, in a way that was unfamiliar to him. I guess… it's not what I'm looking for right now? I don't know. Frowning at the search bar, he was struck by a terrible, no-good, very bad idea.

'Bald chicks,' he typed. Interesting. Definitely some material with the vibe he was going for. He was scrolling leisurely through another page of results when an even more terrible, no-good, very bad idea hit him. It's bound to exist, he thought. But, isn't it kind of weird to search for that? It's different when it's just random people or people who've agreed to it… but… It's fine if it's fake, right? Like if it's art? It didn't take long for the moral quandaries to resolve themselves in the face of what was at stake.

'Commander Shepard,' he typed, poking the search tab with a sneaky, shameful thrill deep in the pit of his stomach. Oh I'm absolutely going to hell. The stream of results was overwhelming. Mock-ups, illustrations, look-alikes of her in all sorts of situations filled his screen. Some intrepid soul out there had put together a holo-model of her from an AVINA VI assistant's skin database. Oh no, he thought, looking at the things done with it. Oh, yes.

Picture after picture of 'Shepard,' giving him just the kind of 'come hither' looks he wanted to see passed by under his finger, one at a time. The pieces were well-observed, convincing work. So tame by his usual standards, the pinups nevertheless made his heart pound and he was enraptured by them. There she was, lying on a generic bedspread with a bright background that complimented the smoothness of her skin and accentuated her shape. Her legs were arranged in just such a way as to give the onlooker only the slightest glimpse of what lay between; it was all about the look, this picture. The lighting made the colour of her eyes pop. It looked like a professional shoot, and he imagined what it would be like to be the photographer in a room like that with the real Shepard. The thought of getting her to pose for him, to touch and reposition her so as to show her off best was somehow second only to the idea of telling her what to do. Telling Shepard what to do. It was perverse, ridiculous… and very, very appealing.

The image of her, this powerful person, a hero to so many, down on her knees in front of him because she wanted to be there was intoxicating. He'd been around the extranet block more than just a few times. He'd seen a lot of women beg from desire, but the look this artist managed to capture was something else when resting on her features.

But, there was more. More moved, it seemed and Joker took a second to quadruple-check to make sure the sound on his datapad was set to go to his earpiece alone. He watched as a facsimile of Shepard slid out of a pair of Alliance fatigues. Animation was no doubt more difficult than still images and it didn't look quite right. She didn't carry herself like that, didn't take steps like that, didn't sway her hips when she walked in the way that he knew she did. In life, Shepard was effortlessly sexy in the way she made her hips roll with every step - he sometimes snuck a peek whenever she left her spot behind his chair in the cockpit. She had this way of placing her feet on the ground that made her almost soundless as she walked; something this copy lacked.

The Shepard-esque model made her way to a bed, where of all people, a krogan lay. She straddled him, grinding up against him. He clapped his clawed hand to her rear, digging the points into her digital skin. He wasn't a gentle lover, pinning her in place and as Joker watched, that feeling of eels squirming inside him grew.

It wasn't the idea of seeing a hulking krogan ride a much smaller woman to within an inch of her life that was so unnerving, he knew. Krogan were popular that way. The power they had at their disposal, the grasping claws, thick body and deep, feral growls left many weak in the knees, not to mention other parts of their physiology. That was fun; he'd seen that and got something out of it many times before. But as he watched that krogan's hand grip that fake Shepard's throat, heard a very good approximation of her voice groan with pleasure, he found himself uncomfortable and looking to skip the video. I wonder if that's how she really likes it? People always demanded it harder and faster on the extranet, but the extranet was what he had access to and like hell was he asking anyone about it.

The next video had a similar theme, but with three guys in Alliance blues taking turns with a remarkably good lookalike, their strong physiques making it look easy. Is that what it would take to make her sound like that? To Joker, there was nothing sexier than seeing or hearing someone caught in the throes of passion, but it was always someone else's game - a fact he long ago relegated to the back of his mind. Faced with the prospect of being in that kind of situation himself, old doubts started creeping in. Well, I can definitely do some things, but I can't move like that, he thought. What if that's what she wants, though? Skipping through the next few, he saw they all had the same ideas. It was all about testing the limits of what she could take. Man, this was all way easier to think about when I didn't really think something could happen. He paused the video. Closed the browser. Joker stared up at the mattress above him with all the wind gone from his sails. Unvoiced questions and unspent frustrations swirled around his mind.

/ / / / / /

Cards surrounded in pulsing blue light floated in interlocking patterns above Jack. She lay on her back, one arm in the air as she gestured towards them, manipulating the field that surrounded the little bits of paper. One by one, she arranged them until they created recognisable, increasingly complex shapes. A circle. A square. A star. A rabbit. A varren. A rumbling noise came from off to the side and a gust of cool air vented into the room and disturbed the cards. Typical. The sensation of cold air passing over her skin made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. All of a sudden, gloved hands were gripping her arms, a needle was in the back of her neck, ice flooding through her veins - The cards launched in fifty-two different directions and fluttered down all over the floor. Fuck this. Killing time was all very well and good when every little thing didn't conspire to remind Jack of a cell.

After Jacob left, no one came down at all for a few days. "Giving it time to cool off," he called it. What a bunch of bullshit… Still, he's alright. Makes a lot of sense. Really hard to piss him off though, and I don't like that. Thinking back to the poker game, shoving Shepard to the ground hadn't felt as good as she thought it would and even with a few days on it, she couldn't figure out why. Jack scowled, groping about for something to throw now that the cards were all over the place. Her fingers happened upon a loose bolt or something and she sent it hurtling at the metal wall just to hear the noise. It's like Shepard expects me to be grateful for this. To just sit here and rot on this fucking bucket. Jack's stomach growled. "Ugh," she groaned aloud. I guess I gotta find food sometime, too. At least I didn't have to do that in cryo. More shit I should be grateful to Queen Shepard for, I guess. Jack kicked the cards out of the way and stalked out of the little side room towards the elevator. To be fair, Gardner makes good food, she thought as she leaned her back against the cold metal wall. I don't get why all these prissy bitches complain about it all the time. They should get force-fed some prison slurry for a few years. They'd beg for some overcooked broccoli or whatever the fuck.

She scanned the Mess out of habit, noting where each idiot sat wasting air, and plotted escape routes just in case things went south. She caught movement in her periphery and her focus snapped onto it. That scruffy guy with the hat and the fucked up bones. Always made sappy-ass moon eyes at Shepard like he didn't think anyone else could see. That's it. He's close to Shepard. "Hey, you, flyboy. I wanna talk to you."

"Ah, fuck," he swore under his breath and froze mid-limp. "What do you want?"

At last, some fucking honesty. She gave him a cold smile as he took ten years to turn around.

"What? I've got stuff to do," he said. He stood a little straighter. It looked hard for him. Aww, thought Jack. I think he's actually trying to look a little intimidating at me. Either that or he's just trying to look like he's not shit-scared.

"Fuck off with the attitude," she said with a derisive snort. "I want to ask you something."

"You want a favour and the first thing you do is tell me to fuck off? You know, I'd say I like your style, but you're kinda holding me up right now. Cancels things out a bit."

"Whatever. I'm not interested in playing games," she lied. "You and Shepard have a long history. I want some insight," she said.

"Insight?" he echoed, raising his eyebrow. "Insight about what?"

Jack paced, fixing her stare on him. "I want to know why Shepard would go through all the effort of bringing me out of cryo, convince me to park ass on this ship and take me to the ground only once. It makes no sense. I'm sitting here, twiddling my thumbs, bored as hell and when I'm bored, I start to think, and when I start to think, I get mad. Right now I'm bored and mad."

"Uh, okay. So you're coming to me because you're pissed you haven't been out with the shore party more often? Not my decision, not my problem. Talk to Shepard." He looked to be doing some escape route calculations himself, his eyes darting off to the side.

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on with her before I go asking her a favour," she said, and stopped pacing.

"All about favours today, huh?"

"Don't get smart with me," she snapped. "And don't play dumb, either. I know you and Shepard are real friendly. I've seen you two in here a bunch of times."

"Look," he said, and crossed his arms. "I don't know why Shepard doesn't take you with her, but obviously you're not gonna go away, so here's my best guess." Joker looked to be bracing himself, maybe deciding whether or not he had the balls to say what he was thinking. "Maybe she hasn't taken you with her because you're the type of person to push over somebody in a cast." He said with a hint of real anger behind his words. Jack narrowed her eyes, letting him continue. "As for why she picked you up? Simple. We need all the help we can get. But maybe she thought for some reason you didn't deserve to just sit in an ice brick forever. You know, you might wanna try thanking her for that. If it was up to me, I'd have left you - and the body count attached to you - in the cooler. Satisfied?"

Jack recoiled in surprise. "Wait a second. You think Shepard got me out because of some bullshit desire to save me?"

"Eh, seems the thawing process was a little flawed."

"The fuck are you getting at?" she snarled.

"Don't think it managed to thaw out that chunk of ice you call a heart. You might want words with the cryo company or something." He had the nerve to turn his bent little back on her.

She growled with fury. "Screw you," she barked. "You and Shepard!"

"Hey, insult me all you want, I really don't give a damn," he said over his shoulder. "But the Commander's done nothing but favours for you so far. I don't see why she'd stop now."

"Maybe I just don't feel like having to put my neck on the line for a bunch of fucking colonists. Doesn't sound like she's doing much of a favour to me." Every time I dig at Shepard, he stays in the argument. This is fun.

Joker was doing a better poker face now than he ever did during a game, she had to admit, but Jack could sense his growing irritation as he turned back around. "I thought you said you'd only been out once? Isn't that why you're pissed off?"

"I'm pissed off, flyboy, because I didn't have a choice," she hissed.

"What? You chose to do whatever it was to get you in prison, then you chose to come with us, and now you keep choosing to be an ass. So, don't give me that bullshit." He said with a shrug. "Just run off and get lost in the scenery when we dock on the Citadel if you hate it so much, I don't know. We done here?"

Jack enjoyed arguing. Nothing better to bust the monotony than sinking her teeth deeper and deeper into someone else's brain until they squirmed. Who's gonna blink first, me or you? She thought and made a show of looking him up and down, as though sizing him up. The fact that he visibly tensed as though he anticipated getting hit when she looked him over made Jack feel good. "Fine choice she gave me. Only way out of prison is onto a Cerberus vessel and into a suicide mission. What the fuck kind of choice is that?"

"I dunno if you noticed," he replied, lowering his tone, "But Shepard hasn't made a secret of how she feels about Cerberus, and I'm only here because she is."

"Oh yeah? Why doesn't she choose to leave, then?"

"She doesn't fly off into the sunset because there's bigger things at stake here than pride. You'd know that if you pulled your head out of your ass once in a while and paid attention."

"What, you mean the Reapers? Hmm, yeah, I dunno about that," she said with a disinterested shrug. He's gonna love this one. "I read all the reports from the Citadel. They say the Reapers don't even exist. The only proof we have is all based on some nutty vision in Little Miss Thing's head, right?"

"Man, I'm not even gonna bother with this," he grumbled in clear exasperation. "Bye."

"Ever think Shepard might just be fuckin' crazy?" spat Jack. Blink, motherfucker! Come on!

"She is not crazy," he snapped, his outburst making Jack smile. Got you. "Look," he continued hotly, "you want to bother Shepard about something? I'm sure she'll listen. She listens to everybody. Even to total assholes like you, for reasons I'll never understand."

"Well, someone's cruising for a bruising," she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Oh, yeah, threaten the cripple for telling it like it is," he snorted. "Would you rather I pretend to like you? Nah. Waste of both our time. I respect people enough to let 'em know where they stand with me." This time, when he turned to go, Jack let him.

She leaned back on one foot and crossed her arms. "Fair enough, flyboy," she replied, but if he heard her, she couldn't tell. Maybe he's not such a prick after all, she thought as she watched him drag himself off to wherever he was going. You only know what people really think when you piss them off. Especially guys. Garrus is right about him. He's fucking easy to read. She turned away to face Gardner's direction. "Hey," she jerked her chin up at the cook. "Food?"

The older guy glanced up from scrubbing the countertops. "I keep telling you if you want something fresh you gotta come up at shift change mealtimes," he said. "But you never do," he added and sighed. "I kept a bit aside for you."

"I'll have it, then," she said, and waited. I won't ever fuck with this guy, though. That's the exception. I don't want piss in my scrambled eggs.

Feeling so refreshed from the argument, Jack even nodded at Gardner when he slid her the tray of food. She gripped the tray hard as she walked, protecting it out of instinct. The doors opened and she saw the sanctimonious turian standing in the elevator. She hesitated for the space of a heartbeat before she stepped into it herself and pressed her back to the wall in silence. Garrus also said nothing, and she watched his spindly finger press the door button from out of the corner of her eye. Jack popped a wad of cold scrambled eggs into her mouth and chewed. As the doors closed, she could feel his weird blue dragon eyes burning into the sides of her head like lasers, but she refused to look at him. Yeah, yeah, she thought. I shouldn't have shoved her over, I get it. He continued to stare in silence, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Good morning, Officer," she said through the most dead-eyed smile she could pull. "Something you wanna say to me?" She asked, choosing to break the silence by busting his balls in between another mouthful of egg. He turned his head back toward the doors. When they opened, he left without a word. She watched him head to the engine core, probably to spend time rubbing his bony face all over Tali's helmet or something. What the fuck is it with this boat and everybody hooking up? I don't get it. She relaxed as she came back into her 'room,' this private space away from others. She crawled onto the bench fashioned into a makeshift bed and bunched up the fabric to make a comfortable place to sit, listening to the white noise of the engine as she picked at her food. Jack imagined what it would be like to have someone there with her in that way. It wasn't a pleasant thought, nor an easy one. Maybe I do get it. It's good to have someone in the trenches with you… For a while, until it fucks up. She thought about Garrus and Tali stealing their time together down the hall, or that ridiculous sappy look that Joker gave Shepard, or the time she walked past and saw those engineers in the other room up against the wall together. It made Jack remember the last time someone looked at her like that, and that shit was poison to think about.

So, she tried to get mad instead. Tried to replay the argument upstairs. Tried to enjoy the feeling of teasing someone until they felt pissed off and uncomfortable. Tried not to think about the fact that no one alive would ever defend her like that scruffball had just defended Shepard. "Ugh," she muttered aloud. Shepard really pisses me off with that whole good girl routine. She doesn't get me. But I guess that's kind of it. He's right… she'll probably still help me if I ask her to. Doesn't need to get me. That's kind of fucked up if true. She considered this for a moment before tapping on her forearm to bring up her Omnitool.

To: Chambers, K.

Subj: an oddiens with the queen

Body: there is something i want to ask shepard about. Send her down here tx ps i know it got all fucked up last time but i want to try poker again? Or somethin else maybe

Jack sat and waited. She knew Chambers would already be writing a reply; she sat looking at the communications all day and even though Jack used a private connection, she had a suspicion that somehow Chambers or somebody else had access to all her shit anyway.

From: Chambers, K.

Subj: RE: an oddiens with the queen

Body: I'll let her know as soon as she comes to the CIC. As for the cards, I can't say for sure what the answer will be, but I'd like to try and help. Something that might be useful for you to do is if you ask yourself a few questions.

How would you deal with someone in a similar situation?

What do you think should happen?

What are you willing to do to make the situation right?

I think it would be worth it for you to think about these questions and answer them in your own time. You don't need to share the answers with me, but I'm happy to listen if you want feedback.

Jack stared at the email. Fucking therapists. Still, as she looked at the questions, she found herself considering them. It's not like I have anything better to do, I guess.

/ / / / / /

Joker reread the same line on the Engineering report three times before taking it in at last and moving on, checking items off down the list. Well, that will only take three hours to fix, so let's allot five… Man, why'd I let Jack get to me like that? Joker thought to himself, still fuming over the argument even as he stared at the empty columns on Engineering's most recent report. She doesn't know any damn better, so why do I give a shit? Jack's smarmy dismissal of Shepard's warning - their entire mission - got under his skin. That arrogant ass really can't think of anything better to do than bitch and moan that she hasn't been on enough murder field trips? Yeah, top priority stuff, let's get Shepard right on that one. After everything she's been through and done already…

His mind's eye took him back to watching the feed of the first major crew meeting after Shepard had taken command of the SR1 and brought Liara aboard. He saw a flash of Shepard standing in the middle of the conference room with her arms crossed, her words calm and measured although the muscles danced in her jaw. What she had to say was a tough sell. The others who hadn't been down there on Eden Prime didn't believe her. It was written on their faces and in their shared, worried glances. Nursing a developing little crush on Shepard as he was at the time, Joker wanted to believe her. He wanted her to be right, to really have seen something weird - But any doubts he might've had were erased when Liara confirmed it by looking into Shepard's brain with that thing asari can do. He kept it to himself, of course, but he recalled feeling a certain sense of vicarious pride for Shepard when the proof had borne out. There's just no way she's nuts. Not after that… Jack was just trying to piss me off. I know she was.

"You seem distracted, Mr Moreau," said EDI. Her calm, soothing, condescending voice made him look up from the keyboard, annoyed.

"Yeah, I am now," he grumbled, shooting the irritatingly serene blue sphere a dirty look. I hate that thing.

"For the past forty-seven minutes, your blood has exhibited heightened levels of adrenaline and testosterone, and your physical movements indicate that you may be experiencing anxiety. Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. Go back to - wait, in my blood? Yeah, okay, because that's an extremely normal thing to say."

"Your seat is equipped with visual, tactile, and olfactory sensors which feed data into my processors," EDI replied.

Joker narrowed his eyes at the shimmering blue sphere. "So part of my job is to get felt up and have my hair sniffed by the AI? Well I'm asking for a raise."

"I assure you, my monitoring of your biological signs is for your protection and has no sexual implication."

"Right. So, tell me. If you're trying to figure out what I'm feeling by what I smell like, what do I smell like?" he asked wryly. "In layman's terms."

"Based upon the collation of data available to me, vexed."

"Uh-huh. And do you think that has anything to do with you piping up when I'm trying to do these maintenance schedules?"

"Your last keystroke on a report was recorded eleven minutes ago. I concluded that you were daydreaming, Mr Moreau."

"Oh, go recalibrate something."

"I am already in the midst of three million, three hundred thousand and eleven separate calculations, some of which are calibrations involving dynamic variables."

"Well, start again then."

"Very well. I will be unable to respond to your requests for the next eight seconds."

"I wasn't being serious, EDI," he said with a sigh.

"Neither was I," it responded. Joker paused. EDI's little visualiser line turned into a sine wave. "I would have been unable to accept new processes for six seconds."

" … Anyway," he said as he opened a spreadsheet. "I'm not daydreaming. I'm thinking about something. There's a difference." Joker didn't bother continuing along this weak line of defense and chose instead to continue slotting time blocks into the repair schedule. EDI's hologram stayed, blipping idly. He eyed it. "What?" He asked, finally.

"Your statement suggested a forthcoming elaboration. I have found that altering my behaviour to visibly remain attentive increases the chance of a clarifying statement from fifteen percent to upwards of forty-three, depending upon the crew member."

"That's a lot of words to just ask me what I meant by that, EDI." He shook his head. "Depending upon the crew member, huh? Who elaborates the most?"

"Dr Solus clarifies his statements ninety-two percent of the time."

"Now there's a surprise," he said dryly. "That guy is always asking questions and then spending an hour explaining why. Who else?"

"Grunt, at eighty-seven percent. He is a very positive individual," asserted EDI.

"A positive…? He cornered me at the coffee machine yesterday to ask how much less pressure than normal it'd take to pulverise one of my vertebrae. I don't know if that counts as positive."

"It may interest you to note that Grunt discussed this interaction with me. His clarification suggests that he was threatening you in line with krogan custom."

"Pfft, you're going to have to narrow that one down. I mean, krogan threaten each other just because the weather's nice," he snorted.

"This threat followed a conversation with Commander Shepard, in which she mentioned her upcoming plans to spend time with you. Grunt has identified you as his Battlemaster's chosen mate."

"Uh," said Joker worriedly, doing some awkward math. "Well, I wouldn't go that far… is he jealous or something?"

"If he is, he will attempt to kill you," blipped EDI.

"And nobody thought to warn me!? Why are you just telling me about this now?"

"He has acknowledged that human participation in krogan ritual is voluntary. Additionally, Grunt's behaviour does not indicate jealousy," EDI added, but Joker's mind was already whirring with thoughts of moving his bunk into the pilot's escape pod and just never leaving the cockpit again. Chambers would bring me food, right?

"What should I do?" He looked at EDI. "Threaten him back or something? That'll go down well. 'Hey, Grunt. I'll give you the worst indigestion you've ever had in your life!'" he said, lifting his arms dramatically.

"You may consider responding with the relevant information," said EDI. "The purpose of this question is to willingly ascertain a weak point as a show of good faith, so that in the event of your betrayal, a krogan in Grunt's position is well armed for revenge."

He laughed. "You mean, in case I betray Shepard? This is some real 'What are your intentions with my daughter' level stuff. I'm pretty sure Grunt wouldn't have any trouble if he thought I'd look better as a pancake."

"In this case, the question is symbolic."

"Alright," he said, shaking his head. He laughed as he pictured knocking on Shepard's door just to have Grunt answer, cocking a shotgun and demanding her home by ten. He brought up the comm panel and selected him. "Hey, Grunt?"

"Huh? Joker?" His baritone voice rumbled in Joker's ear.

"Yeah, uh, hey. So, after some thought, I got some info for you. I figure if you grabbed my spine between your fingers you'd probably only need to sneeze more or less to snap it in half. But, if you really wanted to mess me up, just smash my hands. That way I can't do anything I actually like ever again."

"Heh heh heh," Grunt's slow laughter in response was unsettling. "Understood."

"Oookay. Great. Glad that's cleared up."

"As long as what you say doesn't get in the way of what Shepard wants, I'll do what you say now, too," Grunt said.

"… Do a jumping jack," he said without even thinking. He heard scuffling on the mic as Grunt stood up and Joker had to catch his laughter in the back of his throat.

"Just one? How many?" Grunt asked.

"Nah, I'm only testing you," he said, and tried hard to keep his face straight. "Keeping you on your toes, you know. You don't want to get lazy. Gotta be ready for orders any second."

"Heh heh heh," he laughed again. "You are a good choice," he said, and clicked the mic off.

Joker leaned back in his seat. "Man, I am having a weird day."

/ / / / / /

"What was all that about?" Shepard asked, looking up over her hand of cards towards Grunt, still standing up.

"It is an old custom. All settled." Grunt said, and nodded as he returned to his cards. "I want a two," he added.

"Go fish," she replied. "An old custom? You're a lot more observant of krogan traditions, lately."

"Yes. I am pure krogan, I should embody the spirit of my people," he said with an emphatic nod before his shoulders drooped, deflating a little. "This is not as fun as poker."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, watching him pick another card from the pile. "Gimme a ten?"

"Find a fish," he said. "When can you hit things again?"

"About a week or two after the doctor puts a brace on."

"You know," he said, focusing with one eye down at her leg, "if you were a krogan I would break the other one and take the ship."

"You're welcome to try, krogan or not," she said, meeting his eye. "Five?" She asked.

He grinned and passed her a card. "Ask again."

"Three?"

"Find a fish," he said. "I want to go to the Citadel, too," he said, his eye on her cast again. "I should go with you when we dock."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," she said and smiled at him. "I'm going to go and speak to the Council. It's nothing I haven't done before."

Grunt shifted in discomfort and scratched at a plate on his head. "Mm, yes. You are most fearsome, and I am proud to call you my Battlemaster," he said, flaring his nostrils as he let out a deep breath.

"But?" She asked, collecting the cards together in a pile having sensed the game was over.

He pointed toward her leg. "You are weak. You are urgaha, a leader in a state of healing. You can't look after yourself. This will be better soon, but it is not better yet. When you go out this time, you have to look after two people. I don't think you can."

Using her good leg, Shepard lunged forward, catching Grunt off guard as her braced elbow pressed against his throat. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," she said, leaning her body weight forward until he let out a noise. He tapped the floor with the heel of his palm. "You see?" She asked, with a reassuring smile. He didn't look appeased though, and Shepard looked down to see his claws clamped around her cast. He mimed crushing it, and his broad face wore a frown. His big slitted blue eyes blinked in a gesture of deference and Shepard had to mask how much his concern touched her. His worry was simpler somehow. It didn't come from an actual loss of confidence in her, nor from any real desire to take over himself, nor arrogance and thinking he knew better. It just came out of what Grunt could see and understand.

"You humans are funny about your social things. You like to feel alone," he said, looking as though he was searching for words. She sat down and waited for him to catch up to his thoughts. "Do you know why my people's eyes are so far apart?"

"Why's that?"

"Because we began as food for beasts on Tuchanka," he explained. "We had to see wide to see them coming. It was only in clans that we turned into warriors." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You are clan and krantt. You helped me. Let me help you while you are urgaha. I will stay out of sight," he said.

"Alright. It's hard to argue with that. You've made your case," she sighed, patting his huge hand as it rested on her shoulder.

"Good," said Grunt with a grin. "I hope you go near a café. I want to try a tea cake."

Shepard laughed. "I should go. The CIC and its many wonders awaits," she said, pulling herself up onto her feet. Grunt passed her a crutch and nodded.

Once out of eyesight, she paused to pull the bottle of pills from her pocket and choke down a few dry. The itching was unbearable and as much as Shepard wanted to prove her point, lunging at Grunt really hurt. Inside the cast, her leg throbbed. I can't imagine having to have my leg in one of these things for months. It's already driving me nuts and it's barely been a couple weeks. I just want to run. Now a professional at dunking those awful grey horsepills down her throat without a chaser, she frowned at the bottle in her hand. As she leaned heavily on the crutches, they creaked. She remembered Joker telling her about his tons of surgeries and broken bones. He must've been like this for most of his life. She pictured him, a little bit younger, standing in much the same way as she was now, on the dim streets of a station somewhere - he had grown up on a station, hadn't he? The image came to her easily. So, too, did the memory of his defensive, bristling tone those years ago when Shepard first tried to get to know him. She remembered listening patiently to his tirade, his preemptive justifications, his heated annoyance at having to go through the spiel for yet another nosey senior officer. His attitude might have annoyed her, had it not been so glaringly obvious that Joker was only ever angry with a long, long line of those who came before. A warm feeling flowed through her as she thought about the difference between then and now. She was so relieved a few nights ago after that utter mess of a poker game to have found him sitting there, still, even after the others left. He was so sincere in a way that took knowing him well to really see. His kiss with her right then was always running through her mind.

The kiss was perfect. It was like the feeling of leaping into a clear lake in the oppressive heat of a long summer's day. It felt like being washed clean of all the galaxy's grime, sadness and desperate mistakes, and filled with something easy and pure in its place. His venturesome touch made her feel restored in a way she struggled to describe, yet longed to feel. With a little flutter in her belly, she remembered the eager way he leaned in, and how his fingertips had gone cold against her cheek - from nerves, perhaps. When he kissed her, it was not only enough to make her forget everything else, but enough to make her want to.