AN: I'm sorry for the heartbreak, guys, but this isn't the happy conclusion to the romance. Not yet.
The next hour was the most difficult in Jo's whole life. She realised she should wear something nice. Suddenly the entire content of her wardrobe seemed baggy and ugly, completely unworthy of the occasion. Uniform was out of question – she would not meet him as Commander Shepard. But she was not going to ask Kasumi or any other girl on board for something nicer to wear either, so she put on what she had. Joker of all people would notice if she wore someone else's clothes. Should she wear nice underwear, just in case?.. That she actually did have. After a long shower she put it on, finished the look with a new pair of black pants, a black shirt with a low-cut neck line and flat shoes that made her feet look tiny. She, N7 Lieutenant Commander Spectre Shepard, cursed herself for being utterly unprepared for probably the most important mission in her life.
If this were an actual mission, she wouldn't have had any difficulties making herself look fuckable. Only this was a private matter and Jo had no idea how to handle those. Usually she grabbed a male, threw him on the bed and had her way with him. It wasn't difficult to find a fuckbuddy for a couple of hours.
But this was different. She was about to bare her heart and soul to a man to win his affection. She'd never done that in her entire miserable little life. In either of them.
Jo mentally slapped herself, put some gloss on her lips and let her long, white-golden hair dangle down her neck in a high ponytail. He'd seen her covered in dirt, shit and intestines of all kinds of species. He'd seen her sweaty, stinky, exhausted or injured. He knew what she looked like without her make-up. If he couldn't take her the way she was now, he wouldn't take her if she was dolled up either.
Her heart was going a light year a minute somewhere in her throat when she finally pushed the down button in the elevator. Joker should be proud of himself. He'd taken Commander Shepard firmly out of her comfort zone. That was truly a herculean deed.
Like she thought, several crew members went to Afterlife, just like her. She found Joker already at the bar, leaning his back and elbows on the bar top, looking lazily at the dancers in the middle of the room.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" She said, approaching him. He hadn't bothered to change into anything other than his pilot uniform (which she'd designed, and it suited him). She wondered if he even had civilian clothes.
"No, Commander, I just got here. Didn't even have time to order anything yet."
"Let's go somewhere less loud?" She gestured at one of the side tables meant for private conversations.
"Whatever," he said a little briskly, but followed. They sat down, placed their orders, and looked around the club, as they waited. There were some Normandy techies at the bar, and they saw Jacob and Zaeed go down a level.
"So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?" Joker asked almost curtly, when they finally had their drinks. He avoided looking at her, she realised. Too absorbed in her own feelings until now, she finally gave him a more attentive look. He looked like a man out for a confrontation. Did she pick the wrong moment to talk to him? Again, when it came to her own private matters, her psychology training failed her completely. All she could do now was to bite the bullet and confess.
Except jumping off a plane without a parachute was easier. She knew because she'd done that. Carrying fifty kilograms of gear, a deadly wounded buddy and sixty kilograms of his gear through Brazilian jungle for four days was easier than telling Joker she loved him.
"Commander?" He pulled her out of her thoughts. Jo realised she had no idea how to begin. She sighed and said the first thing that came to mind:
"Didn't I ask you to call me Jo?"
"Is that the reason you dragged me out here?"
Jo reached over the table and took his wrist in her hand:
"Kinda. Partly. Jeff…" She took a breath. "Jeff, I would like you to be more familiar with me. After everything we've been through together… You are the most fascinating man I've ever met. The most beautiful one."
Joker's brows climbed half an inch and froze there. He wasn't blinking or breathing, she realised. His hand under her fingers was starting to tremble.
"You're magnificent," she smiled gently. "Absolutely breathtaking. You're snarky, sarcastic, you have a killer of an attitude, and you're not scared of me even one lick, no matter who I am or what I do. I love that about you." Words were coming easier now. "I love your strength, I revel in it. Never met anyone stronger than you. Never met anyone who hid it so well, either. You don't show your beauty to just anyone, but I see you, Jeff. I see who you really are, and I love that man. I keep coming to see you all the time, to spend time around you, because I'm in love with you, I have been s…"
"Waitwaitwait." He freed his hand from her gentle hold and held up a finger. "WHAT?"
Jo could see from the terror in his eyes that this wasn't going so well. But there was no way back out.
"I love you, Jeff," she said gently. Here it was. Her heart on a platter, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.
He stared at her with frozen horror on his face for about twenty seconds. Johanna died a hundred deaths during that time. Finally he blinked and looked around him:
"Is this a practical joke? Am I being filmed? If Kasumi is behind this, I'm warning you, Shepard, I'll take my revenge."
"I would never joke about something like that," she shook her head a little, her face very serious.
"You mean to really tell me that you're… in… love. With me."
"Yes, with you. Who else did you think I was talking to all this time?"
"Uh… anyone, frankly. You said 'fascinating' and 'strong'."
"You are."
"Uh-huh." Joker leaned closer to her over the table and said slowly and firmly, making sure she understood how serious he was: "I. Am. A. Cripple. What do you want with me?"
"A cripple?" Jo honestly blanked out for two seconds before she realised he meant his Vrolik's. "You're not a cripple."
That sent him reeling:
"Ha! This is a practical joke, I knew it."
"It's not a joke, I just never saw you as disabled in any way."
"Oh, and my crutches from two years ago, and my never leaving my chair, or needing a bench in the shower, and taking an hour to climb five steps, my needing medication all the time, my leg braces – you failed to notice?"
"Oh, I noticed all right. It's just who you are, a part of you that makes you so unique. You know, like Napoleon Bonaparte was short, Alexander the Great had bangs falling on his forehead, Julius Ceasar was left handed. You have brittle bones."
"Wow," he leaned back in his chair. "I really hate you right now."
"Why, what did I say?" Jo was really confused by his reaction. This whole conversation was moving into a direction she did not appreciate.
"Wh… You have the nerve to ask me what you just said?" He rose to his feet and leaned a little down to speak directly into her face: "I believe you when you say you're not joking. I know you too well for that. But you and me? That ain't never gonna happen. Ever."
Jo caught his elbow before he could storm out of the club.
"Why?" She pleaded with him. She was not beneath begging for explanation right now because she had no idea what was going on. "What did I do wrong?"
She saw excruciating pain and bottomless sadness in his eyes when he looked down at her and gently freed his arm from her fingers.
"You did nothing wrong, Shepard. You are who you are and I'll always be there for you, fly your ass out of volcanoes, tell you jokes when you have two rounds left against a gunship, I'll be there when you kill the Collectors and the Reapers. But I can't be more than that. I can't be what you're asking me to be."
"You don't feel that way about me," she nodded, bile rising to her throat as hot, bitter tears started singeing her eyes.
"You're not asking for a quick fuck. If you did, I'd say: that sounds like the beginning of a really tasteless joke. But you're asking for something very, very different. And that is something I can't help you with. I am sorry, though."
He left with that. He left her alone in the loud, vulgar nightclub where not a single soul cared about her tears or her heartbreak. Jo pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, willing her shoulders to stop shaking, willing the tears to stop falling, willing the cry of agony back down her throat. Only it didn't work. She could face anything and hold her ground, but when faced with the matters of love she was as weak and helpless as any other being out there.
Afterlife was becoming surreal around her. Gyrating strippers, insipid music, slobbering and filthy strangers – it all made her want to go home and curl up to sleep. Except her home just walked out on her.
And it didn't look like he was coming back.
She had no other choice but to collect the pieces of her broken heart, wipe her cheeks and nose, straighten her back and walk to the docks. With her entire world breaking to tiny shards she didn't know if she had the strength to walk, but she had no other option. One foot in front of the other. One step, then one more. She was strong, she could do this.
It's just one battle, a part of her spoke up. You can lose a battle, or a dozen, if you win the war in the end. And this war is far from over. She didn't want to be at war with the man she loved, but her instincts were right. She could still try to make him change his mind. Even if she had to parade in front of him in her sexiest lingerie. Or naked. Whatever worked.
Joker didn't feel his body as he walked out of the club. He saw nothing and no one on his way. He didn't even remember how he got to his bunk in the dorm. His mind was going a light year a minute, he wanted to scream, to punch walls, kick krogans, but most of all he wanted to throw up.
In love with him? No, he really did believe her that it wasn't a joke. She'd never be so cruel to him, not his Shepard. But how could she be in love with him? The notion was ridiculous beyond measurement. Now, if she'd asked him into her quarters, put on some sexy lingerie and tried to get in his pants, he'd let her. Laugh at her for her poor choice of lovers when she had a galaxy of strong, good looking, accomplished, high-ranking, influential and willing men vying for her attention. But he'd let her. Even he was allowed some hidden fantasies about Commander Shepard in black lace.
But that wasn't what she was talking about.
He wasn't that stupid, he realised what she meant. She wanted a relationship. Someone to support her in her darkest moments when she was on a suicide mission or facing impossible odds.
That was not him.
A relationship. Feelings. L… love. He stumbled over the word. He was not in love with her. He couldn't be. Because loving her would break him in ways even hell's fury couldn't invent. Loving her would destroy him. He had already been destroyed when she died, and he was not going there again. It was just too painful to even imagine. What could he say to her? Sorry, Commander, I'd fuck you any day, but I can't be your confidant? Because he couldn't. Any closer to her and he would break under the weight she had to carry. He was not cut out for that. He supported her the best and only way he could: by flying the ship. She wanted more from him and he couldn't give it. What was the point indulging silly fantasies, when he clearly knew: he could not be the solid rock she needed.
Oh, he knew all too well what she needed. It hadn't escaped his attention how messed up she was. Nightmares, sleeplessness. Attitude that went from cold to nuclear. The killing. The carelessness. The restlessness. She needed someone to lean on and he could not handle such responsibility. Wouldn't. No way. He had enough on his own plate without sharing hers. There were better suited people for that. Strong guys, warriors, who knew exactly how she felt. What could he possibly give her to support her? He was not a shrink. He was not a warrior. He was a crippled geek, for heaven's sake! He didn't want any of that world of hurt she was inviting him into.
A vicious, sadistic voice in his mind added: a relationship also means she'd have to end up in bed with you more than once, and face it, flyboy, how high are your chances to sexually satisfy a woman like Commander Shepard?
There was that, too. Oh, he didn't think she'd actually break any bones, but she would be careful, treat him like a fragile, vulnerable oddity that he was. She'd hold back, it would be awkward. She wouldn't want to be with him a second time. How could she? What could he possibly offer her? A physical, strong, violent woman like that? All he could offer her was to teach her how to give him blowjobs. She needed someone like, oh, Zaeed, or even Jacob. Or better: Garrus. No, Wrex. Now that was a male specimen who could take all she could dish out and who could give her what she needed, all of it. Plus, she already had experience with krogans, right? Anyone was better suited to satisfy her in bed than he was.
And the whole relationship thing went beyond his physical incapability. If they ended up together, he would lose more than his CO the next time she died. And she would undoubtedly die again, sooner rather than later. She was on the most important mission in the world: saving the whole galaxy from an unknown threat. She was the one to voluntarily pay the price if they hoped to win. She'd always choose the mission over him. What she did today was nothing more than the antics of a frustrated hero clinging to something familiar, failing to realise that she couldn't have normalcy anymore. She was the avatar of the people, she couldn't just go and fall in love, like normal people did. She couldn't have a relationship. It just didn't work like that!
It didn't.
It didn't!
Joker grabbed his pillow and threw it at the lockers. It frustrated him beyond belief that he couldn't even punch anything or anyone right now without breaking his hand. He really wanted, no, needed to let out some steam, he was about to blow. But that was his fate, the cards he'd been dealt with at his birth. All he could do was throw a pillow. What was her damage, comparing him to Napoleon, Caesar and Alexander? What she actually said was that his sickness was as significant as some dude's haircut, that the battle he'd been fighting all his life, battle for survival, for his place in the society, all the pain, humiliation, loneliness, cruelty he'd been through all his life meant about as much as some guy's haircut!
Oh, he'd never expected to hear something so tactless from Commander Shepard. Something so cruel. How could she be so vindictive? If she loved him, she was doing a piss-poor job showing it today. If she really cared about him, she would know, learn, realise what he'd been through all his life. Her words today clearly showed him that she was just like all the other women. She didn't really see him. She liked the idea of him, but no so much him as a reality.
How could he ever let himself to be fooled? Once a woman, always a woman. Even a smart, strong, guy-like woman like Shepard. Women were nothing but pain, pain and more pain.
Why couldn't he teleport to a galaxy where he was the only sentient being? He didn't need women, and he most certainly didn't need any men. He was better off alone, he wasn't a social animal. In fact, he'd prefer the company of animals. They weren't as cruel as some women were. Especially if those women's betrayal came so suddenly, so unexpected, so cold and heartless.
Bitch, his brain offered. Shepard was no better than Miranda. She was just as cold, just as heartless. All women were.
He kicked the pillow – the only thing he could kick – and sent it flying across the dorm. When it landed, he found it and kicked it again.
She's in love with me, he suddenly thought. She loves me. At least she thinks she does.
The fury left him like it was never there, evaporated and left him empty. His knees gave in and he flopped down without looking where he was. With all the men she could choose from, Commander Shepard came to him. Him. That left an aftertaste of endless wonder in his mouth. A woman like that – in love with him? Oh, what would Alenko say?
She wasn't a bitch. He was already sorry for comparing her to Miranda. Two people couldn't be more different than Shepard and Miranda. Shepard was… Shepard. Even his inner voice purred the name. Whenever he actually said it out loud, he sounded like he was praying, he knew that.
That thing she'd said about his sickness and Napoleon, it still confused him. Now that the shock lost its sharpness, he couldn't make himself believe that she'd insult him like that. Perhaps he misunderstood? He wished he could ask someone's opinion. Garrus? Nah, Garrus knew too little about human history and semantics to offer anything useful. If he called his mother, he would get a lot more than just an opinion on a phrase. His father? Nah, he and his father were never quite close enough for that kind of questions. And if he called Gunny… She could keep a secret, at least he could trust her not to spread rumours. But she was just a child. Fourteen years old was hardly old enough to be giving advice in such crucial situations. He had no other friends and he was not going to Dr. Chakwas.
Joker blew out some air, collected his pillow and went back to his bunk. Damnit. This was not how he expected this day to end when he woke up. This wasn't even what he expected when he went to Afterlife to meet Shepard. He sat down and let his head down between his knees. What a night.
Tomorrow would be weird, he knew it. Would she pretend their conversation never happened? Should he? Would she ever even speak to him? He doubted she would come to the cockpit in her spare time anymore, though. That thought cut him painfully. He did enjoy the company, even though it would be awkward, now that he knew why she was coming to see him so often. He would never again be able to enjoy banter about vaginas, boobs, family jewels and porn with her. That was a shame.
How long will it take for her to find someone else? That thought made him sit up and almost bang his head on the frame of the bed above his own. He'd rejected her and she obviously wouldn't sit around waiting for him to change his mind. Nobody was that stupid or masochistic. What if she'd already found someone else? He opened his omnitool and checked the arrivals. Shepard was already on the ship. She came in barely fifteen minutes after him. He didn't know how that made him feel. On the one hand he supposed she hadn't hooked up with some stranger after he left and hadn't, well, cheated on him, so to speak. Fifteen minutes were not enough time. On the other hand if you are Commander Shepard in a bar full of men, finding a fuckbuddy wouldn't take even fifteen minutes, it would take three seconds, plus a frantic tumble in the toilet stall. When he thought about that, something powerful and nasty moved inside him. He forced it down with all his will.
People started showing up. Shepard had given them shore leave until morning, but most of them would be back to sleep it off on the ship. Who wanted to be left behind on Omega if they missed the Commander's curfew? Nobody doubted that she would leave them in such a case.
As he watched Garrus and Tali wrapping up some conversation they were having in hushed voices before heading for their respective beds, Joker let himself imagine for a second.
Having Commander Shepard in his life as his woman, his lover. Falling asleep with her soft, warm and naked (only naked, there was no other way) body in his arms. Holding her hand as they strolled down the shopping zone on the Citadel together. He would pick fights with the burliest guys in the most run-down bars and clubs and let her handle the violence because she would do anything for him and he would always take advantage of that. And she would always love him for being an asshole. She would go shopping and buy red, lacy, expensive and very skimpy set of underwear and let him rip it off her with his teeth. She would laugh in the face of every other man who came near her, saying that her sweet, sweet ass already belonged to someone.
His imagination jerked him to places better left alone. Happy to report that all Reapers are dead… I give you Mr and Mrs Moreau… Honey, I'm home!.. Shut up, dear, and look out of the window 'cause da man is driving!.. Did you buy this leather catsuit and whip just for me?.. Again, Mistress, punish me again… Is that a gray hair? I dare you to find one in my blond mane!.. After all these years people still stare at us when we go shopping… Remember the good old days?.. They lived happily ever after and died on the same day.
Joker threw himself onto his bed, still fully clothed. His imagination could get scarily vivid, but all of that was lost now, anyway. He'd rejected her. Whatever a relationship with Shepard could have had in store for him, it was gone now, the chance lost, the box locked and the keys melted down for silver. It was better this way. He was better off alone, like he always had been. Like he always would be.
