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Splendid.
Jeff hissed a frustrated curse at the error message flashing on his holoscreen.
Stupid piece of crap. We literally have sentient AIs and yet we can't make a computer smart enough to let me log in without filling a couple of swear jars in the process.
With a drawn-out sigh, he slid his hands across his face.
What did that Krogan say? 'I'll blast your virtual ass into actual dust'? Yeah, I'll ship your ass to Krogan tech support, see how you'll like it then, damn digital piece of quantum crap.
Today was one of those days when everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong.
Just for the sake of it.
The string of bad luck had begun the previous night when he'd signed off late from his post after spending the entire evening compiling a damn security report. Or rather, trying to compile a damn security report. Because the stupid form was impossibly long and tedious to compile, and it seemed to have more fields to fill in than fleas on a varren's butt.
And no one will give it even a quick side glance, anyway. Never mind a 'thank you Joker', as in 'thank you for wasting 3 hours filling in a fucking useless module with even more useless data'. 'Thank you, Joker', because it's not like our remaining days are quickly approaching 'pijack in a thresher maw's nest' numbers and we may wish to spend them doing anything slightly more meaningful at all, like calling our families or jacking off to Asari porn, and instead I was the dumbass to fill in that stupid report no one gives a fuck about. But you try turning one in 10 minutes past the deadline…
At half-past midnight, after staring at the same blank line of the damn report for a solid 10 minutes and feeling his eyelids getting heavier than an Elcor cub, he finally resigned himself to get some sleep and set his alarm earlier than usual to finish his task in the morning.
So off to bed he went, only to be greeted by Donnelly's loud snoring in the bunk above his own.
It's amazing, even his snores have a Scottish accent. I'd be impressed, if he was keeping anyone else awake instead of me.
Luckily, folding his pillow over his ears filtered out most of the engineer's noises and he managed to set the course to dreamland relatively quickly. But when sleep finally came, it was soon interrupted by nightmares of mechanical horrors coming straight at him from outer space.
Seemed like the damned Reapers are set on tormenting me even while I'm not even conscious. Great. Remind me to tell Shepard to add psychological warfare to their fighting tactics during the next strategy meeting.
So, when his alarm rang, he was almost grateful to escape the restless night.
If this isn't a warning sign for the kind of day that's awaiting me, then I'm a Vorcha arm wrestler.
As soon as he motioned to get out of bed, he was greeted with the discovery that today was one of those mornings when his leg decided to hurt for no apparent reason at all. His right one, the one he'd shattered in a stupid accident at age 15 and had never healed quite right. The one that over the years had more hardware put in and removed than a third-hand Quarian ship.
He tried massaging the aching muscles to try and push some of the dull pain away, running his fingers down old surgical scars. I'd kill for a hot bath… but I guess I'll have to make do with some of Chakwas' muscle relaxants.
Usually, he'd lay in bed awake for a few minutes, to let his eyes slowly acclimatize to the ship's artificial daylight. Today, however, he'd woken up so early that the illumination was still set on nighttime mode, so he simply got to his aching feet, put on his uniform, and set out to get some coffee.
Somebody from the night shift had recently refilled the coffee machine, and the mess hall was filled with a pleasant aroma. Joker poured a serving of steaming hot brain-fuel into his Blasto mug, and mindlessly grabbed a handful of sweetener packets–today was a day that called for at least three spoons of sugar, or more–before heading to the bridge.
Once comfortably seated in his leather chair–a seat so good it all but makes Cerberus fall from 'evil incarnate' down to neutral territory–he took a sip of the dark brew, the liquid warm enough to almost burn the roof of his mouth.
Maybe this day won't be that bad after all, he thought as he lowered the brim of his hat over his eyes to savor the moment.
Luck deceived hope, though. Of course. The red error message blasting his retinas from the flashing screen proved him wrong barely a few minutes later.
Come on, it's not fair.
In a fit of frustration, he raised a fist and pounded it down hard on the console. Too hard. Way too hard. Hard enough to regret it even before his pain receptors had time to fire, and his brain could process the muffled cracking sound of a fracturing bone.
Well, crap.
The cockpit disappeared in a flash of white.
Letting out a pained whimper, he wrapped his good hand around his injured one and cradled it to his chest, hunching over it while biting the inside of his cheek to keep more sounds from escaping through his teeth.
"Don't. Say. A word", he hissed to EDI as soon as he managed to regain some semblance of his composure, seeing her blue orb pop up on the console on his left in the corner of his eye. She had the decency to oblige and retreat to her invisible form.
This day just keeps getting worse!
Doctor Chakwas was unquestionably a more efficient early bird than Joker. Sitting at her desk in the med bay, she was already skimming through patient charts and medical reports, while sipping warm tea from a mug decorated with a floral print.
"Yes?" she asked without turning around as soon as she heard the door sliding open.
"I, uhh… I may need your talents a bit here. And medigel. Definitely medigel."
Recognizing his voice, she turned around in her chair to greet him with a warm smile.
"Oh, good morning, Jeff! What brings you here to my humble place of healing at this early hour?"
He slightly raised his painfully throbbing hand, avoiding meeting her eyes, and flashed her an apologetic half-smile.
That's not an embarrassing way to start the day at all. Way to go, Joker.
"Oh dear, what happened? Did you injure yourself in your sleep?"
"No, no, nothing like that, I, uh-" I'm a goddamn idiot and did this to myself? "-look Doc, can we deal with the how's and why's later? It kinda hurts quite a lot, y'know."
Without a word, she guided him to an examination bed and gestured for him to sit down. Still avoiding her eyes, he complied, while she searched the cabinets for the portable X-ray scanner. She hovered the machine over his hand and quietly hummed while inspecting the readings.
"The bad news is that you fractured two metacarpals. The good news is that the bone segments are not displaced and will not require any reduction procedures or surgical intervention. Immobilization and rest should be enough for it to heal with no complications."
"Yay…", he answered unenthusiastically.
"Now sit still while I inject you with some medigel and bandage you up."
He mentally braced himself as she unpacked a way too long, way too thick disposable needle and filled up a syringe with a clear substance.
Shit, I hate this part the most.
"Now, mind telling me what happened?" she asked him without diverting her gaze from the draining Medigel vial in her hand. "In my years of professional experience, I've never seen bones randomly fracturing with no… external input, and I believe your condition doesn't exclude you from this statement."
"I… must have thrashed around in my sleep and hit the bunk wall."
"You're a terrible liar, Jeff."
He gritted his teeth as he felt the needle prick his skin and the cold metal scrape against the bone.
Of course, she won't make it any easier on me.
She'd been his physician for almost a decade and could read him like an open book by now.
And yeah, she's probably right in her assessment of my horrible acting skills too. Acting wasn't on the flight academy course list.
"Do we really need to do this?"
"Yes."
He sighed and brought his free hand to his forehead, then slowly brought it down to cover his eyes.
"All right, I… it's been a couple of shitty days, okay? Stupid little thing upon stupid little thing piling up like bullshit layers on a bullshit lasagna. I guess I finally had enough and needed to take it all out on something, so I did the only logical thing and got into a boxing match with the bridge control panel. Y'know, 'cause I am a responsible adult."
Chakwas temporarily stopped what she was doing. She looked up at him and met his gaze, her palm resting on his half-bandaged up hand. He was grateful for not seeing a hint of judgment or pity in her gaze, at least, although her expression betrayed a lack of understanding.
Yeah, I don't get it either.
"And taking out your frustration on the console achieved what, exactly? Except landing you in the med bay with me, of course."
Her tone was flat and no-nonsense, and somehow it made him regret his decisions so much more than the pain could do.
"Uh, nothing? Listen Doc, I know I fucked up, it's pretty obvious, but I…"
She cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
"Jeff, have you been keeping up with your meds?"
I've got better at it, does it count?
"Uh… yeah? What does it have to do with this? I got fractures way more often before starting with these pills, it's all in your charts anyway, and…"
"What about your PT?"
"Yeah, that too. You can ask Jacob. He sees me every day in the gym."
"And do you get enough sleep?"
As much as a Salarian on Red Sand.
"… yes?"
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Shit, I really am a terrible liar.
"… maybe?"
"Are you sure?" Again with that raised eyebrow and the 'you don't fool me' voice. The 'we can do this forever but I will outlast you so you better come clean with me' voice.
Fuck.
"Have you tried sharing a bunk with Donnelly? The man snores like a 20th-century combustion engine!"
She didn't utter a word in return and just kept her eyes on him in that infuriatingly calm way of hers that, in times like this, felt to him like a bad case of scale itch. She was way too good at demonstrating the typically British no-nonsense attitude.
Yeah, no way she'd have fallen for that. She's not stupid.
He let out a humorless laugh and shook his head.
"Shit, you can see right through me, uh? All right then. No. I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all… I'm not even sure this whole Reapers crap isn't all a nightmare induced by sleep deprivation because I can't even remember the last time I got a full night of sleep, cause…"
Cause how the shit am I supposed to sleep after everything that happened? After everything I've done? He gripped tight the frame of the bed and continued, the cold, hard metal almost a grounding anchor against the disorienting chaos inhabiting his mind. Guess the gates are open and I am airing it all out now.
"… cause every damn time I close my eyes, I'm crawling through the damn maintenance duct again, being my same useless, crippled, cowardly self while the Collectors are out there having a field day taking the whole rest of you as a scout trophy? That's probably why,"
Crap, were those tears starting to come out? He desperately tried to come up with a silly joke, but his mind was blank except for images of monstrous creatures chasing after him, dragging his friends and colleagues away.
Come on, something about Donnelly snoring.
They got him by his ankle, they pulled him away, and he was screaming so much, and then…
They're gone, Jeff. You did all you could.
And it wasn't enough.
He angrily wiped his eyes with his wrist; sure enough, it was wet, and he felt so vulnerable, so stupid.
"… Or I'm at the helm of the first Normandy while it's all burning to a crisp around me, and it is the weirdest thing, y'know? Cause we're in space, and even though everyone's screaming in horror and pain, they don't make a sound."
And when they do, it's even worse.
"And Alenko, or Liara -it depends on the night, really, sometimes it's even Pressly and it doesn't make any sense cause he's as dead as a dead Prothean - they're… they're all shouting at me through my earpiece, telling me to get up and leave, but I…"
I'm a stubborn fucking piece of shit that didn't even care about his own life and can barely stand up without someone holding his hand.
"… I just can't, I literally can't, I'd shatter a femur just getting out of the damn chair, never mind getting to the fucking escape pod so… I stay there and try to at least make sure they have a chance to evacuate…"
He desperately tried fighting back the tears, but it was a losing battle.
"But as soon as I've made peace with dying up there, going down with the ship, she's there too, screaming at me, pulling me away. Cause of course she is, savior of the Citadel couldn't let her stupid pilot die…"
And so she did.
"… then I'm in the pod, and she's not- she's out there, alone, and cold, even if there's fire everywhere it's so fucking cold, and she's dead and…"
And it should have been me.
"It's this, again and again, every time I close my eyes, every damn time…"
Silently, she took a disposable towel and gently dabbed at his cheek, drying off the tears that were now flowing freely. Then it was her turn to speak.
"When I close my eyes, I'm in that pod, minutes away from being liquified and fed to that… abomination. I'm paralyzed. I can't move. I can't scream. I can't do anything but watch them all meet their fate one by one, knowing I'm next."
He raised his gaze to meet hers, and through the tears, he could see that her eyes were wet too.
"But then I open my eyes, and I'm here. In my medbay, making sure the whole lot of you doesn't drive themselves mad with exhaustion or die of an infected papercut because you're too stubborn to come in here and ask for my help."
A single tear was now running down her cheek.
"And Shepard is standing in the CIC, directing us from one corner of the galaxy and to the other. And you? You are at the helm, flying us there in style. And safe."
The doctor smiled a warm, kind-hearted smile that lifted the corners of her mouth and lit up her eyes. She drew closer to him and gently wrapped her arms around him, enclosing him in a tender embrace, careful not to hurt him.
The affection of that simple gesture was enough for him to finally lose it. He started sobbing uncontrollably, shaking with each ragged, irregular breath. She laid a hand on the back of his head and softly encouraged him to rest it against her shoulder, unconcerned about the tears soaking through her uniform.
Her other hand went to his back, and she started slowly rubbing it in circles, quietly shushing him. The gentle motion, the warmth, and the safety of that hug brought him back to memories of his childhood, to when his mother would console him in the same way after he'd got hurt or had a particularly cruel confrontation with some bully classmate.
"We are alive, Jeff," she softly whispered in his ear, "we are alive, and we are here- and whatever the galaxy will throw at us, we will come out of it victorious and alive again."
They remained like that for a while; him sobbing on her shoulder and her rubbing circles around his back, until, slowly, his breathing returned to normal, and the flow of tears stopped.
When he felt confident that sitting back wouldn't cause another fit of crying, he pulled away and straightened his back.
"Ah. Yeah. Thanks, doc, I… I guess I really needed that. And sorry if I snapped at you earlier, I wasn't really in a good place. "
"Oh, don't worry about that, dear. You're most welcome. And besides, I think this helped me as well."
He gave her a thankful smile and motioned to get off the examination table. Being able to only use a single hand to help himself up made the whole thing more difficult than it had any right to be.
"Now, where do you think you're going? I believe I haven't cleared you for leaving yet."
She scrutinized him with a half inquisitive, half mischievous look and lightly pressed her palm on his shoulder, forcing him to sit down again.
"My professional opinion is that this type of injury requires at least a day off. Bed rest, no work duty, no matter how light."
He opened his mouth to assure her he was fine, and that this wasn't necessary- he'd flown with way worse fractures than a couple of metacarpals- but she interrupted him before he could utter a word.
"And before I hear any sort of protest, these are doctor's orders, Lieutenant. "
She lifted her chin to look at the security camera and address EDI directly
"EDI? Would you mind taking the helm for the next 24 hours? The Flight Lieutenant is on medical leave until tomorrow."
The reply of the ship AI came immediately:
"Of course, Doctor," the disembodied robotic voice answered through the medbay speakers. "Helmsman Moreau, you are relieved for the day. The relief pilot and I will take over your duties until your next scheduled turn tomorrow morning. "
He laughed a little under his breath and shook his head in amusement.
"I'm not getting out of this, am I?"
"Not a chance. Doctor's orders, remember?"
Her tone was professional, but a hint of a smile was visible on her lips.
"All right… guess I'll have to comply, then."
He motioned to get off the table and leave, but stopped halfway through the movement and thought better of it.
Aw, to hell with it.
"Uh… doctor? Mind if I stay here a while? Donnelly's probably still asleep, and I'm not sure his snores are good for this whole 'rest and recuperate' thing. "
And I'd really love some company right now.
"You don't even need to ask, Jeff."
