"Jo," Joker reverently exhaled and sat down on the bed because his legs suddenly wouldn't carry him. "You're starting to show."
Jo looked up from the pair of pants she was about to put on, then down at her belly.
"Oh," she dropped the pants and placed both hands on a small bump. She hadn'treally noticed before. Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, God..."
Joker took her arm and pulled her in to stand between his knees.
"My baby," he murmured with his lips against the bump. "I know you can hear me. Gods, I can't wait to meet you."
"Hey, Jeff," Jo wrapped her arms around his head. "What are we going to name the kid?"
"If it's a girl, I want Josephina."
"If it's a boy, I want to name him Jeff, like you."
Jo felt peace like never before as she watched her husband lean his ear against her stomach as if trying to hear the baby's heartbeat. In all her life she'd never known such serenity, warmth and a sense of rightness.
"That was easy. Suppose we should start on that nursery soon, no?" Joker asked.
"Let's wait until we're past the three-months mark. Then we can announce it, and start getting a room ready."
"Works for me. Can I take a picture?" He looked up from her belly.
"Don't you want to be in that picture?" Jo smiled, then looked up to the ceiling: "Tess, send Mechie in here, please."
"Yes, Ma'am," the house VI replied. The mech came in and used Joker's omnitool to take a picture of them just the way they were, with Joker's arms around Jo's hips, his ear pressed against the bump. Jo knew already that this would be the best picture ever taken of their family.
At work Matt reported that the Intelligence branch had finally worked out the wrinkles found by the Renegades. He had new scanners installed, a new procedure implemented concerning the food supplies, and had the security team retrained. The recruits under his command were all tired and ghostly pale, but they all looked pleased with the results.
"This is your domain," Jo said to Matt. "I'm trusting you. But promise me that you'll never grow lax. An organic error is always a possibility, but it can cost us all our lives. I'd like you to do the same role-playing exercise at least once every year."
"Already planned for it," Matt said grimly. "Trust me, this was not only a smack in the face, it was a huge wake-up call. I'm not the only genius out there. I guess I've been locked in the bunker for so long that I managed to forget that. Won't happen again."
"Have you also put measures in place that will prevent Dex from being isolated like that?"
"Me and two geth recruits will be doing the necessary hardware changes all next week."
Jo nodded and let him get back to work.
When she was checking her messages later, she found an invitation to the first Annual Ball to honour the end of the Reaper War. It was to take place on November 7 at the newly built Galactic Dome, a gigantic structure for events with several thousand attendees. Under the invitation was a personal note from Driana Covis, the governor of the city, saying that Jo and the rest of the Normandy crew were expected and that they had better not invent some last minute emergency to get out of a public appearance. Jo sighed: the governor already knew her too well.
The ball was still two weeks away. She supposed it wouldn't hurt too much to show her face. It was a great chance to promote the Aurora Foundation and make new contacts. Just when she was imagining the kind of evening gown that would hide her belly, her computer chimed with an incoming call. When she accepted it, a man appeared on her screen. A human in his forties, civilian, too well-groomed for Jo's taste.
"Hello," Jo said to the stranger, who just gaped at her for a moment.
"Wow, Commander Shepard. You actually answered." He babbled.
"When you call my official contact, that's what usually happens," Jo couldn't help an eyeroll. "But my readiness to listen to you just went down fifty points. The name's Moreau, not Shepard."
"I'm very sorry," the man said so quickly that Jo instantly knew: he needed a favour and was not above ass-kissing. "Commander Moreau. Got it. I'm Kurt Dover, an executive producer at Multistars."
"What's Multistars?" Jo frowned.
"You haven't heard of Multistars? We're only the most successful vid production company in the galaxy."
"Is Blasto your work?"
"No."
"Thank heavens."
"Indeed. We've just secured the rights to produce an epic about Commander Shepard while you were still Commander Shepard. We want to cover your life story from birth until the end of the Reaper War and we want you to be our official consultant. This is your chance to tell your own story, Commander. You will have power over the script and production. What do you say? The truth behind the legend. The real story of a hero unlike any other. The..."
"Stop, please," Jo groaned. "You're giving me nausea. Are you for real?"
"Very much so. Many production companies out there have been trying to get the rights to be the first on this topic, that's why it took so long. Trust me, Multistars is best equipped and staffed to handle such an epic. We have a whole planet for our studio. We can stage basically anything."
"I don't know a thing about making vids. You know that, right?"
"Yes. And we don't know much about your missions, the way you fight, the way your crew works together. We want this to be as close to the real thing as possible. This will be a vid everyone in the galaxy will watch, especially everyone in the military. They'll spot all our mistakes and ruin the reviews if you don't supervise."
"You're trying a guilt trip on me?" Jo snorted. "Get real." She twisted a lock of her hair around her finger absently. The coppery red dye had washed out and she was blond once again. "Do you have the script already? Send me a copy."
"A preliminary version, yes. Sending it to you now."
"I'll think about it, talk to my husband and friends."
"Call me any time. I mean it, any time!" Dover nodded enthusiastically and ended the call.
When the lunch break came, Jo found her guys in the cafeteria.
"I just got a call from Multistars."
"What's Multistars?" Jack spoke with her mouth full.
"That's what I said!" Jo threw her hands up in grateful agreement.
"A vid making company," Tali explained. "They're pretty big. Actually, in the last four years they have made several successful patriotic war films. After the Alliance helped save the Council from Saren they started employing humans more and more. Generally, they concentrate on cross-species projects. What did they want?"
"To make an epic about me from my birth till the end of the Reaper war."
All gazes turned to her.
"An epic?" Vega started to grin predatory. "Are we all going to be in it?"
"Were you around me during the war? Then yes, I suppose you will." Jo opened her omnitool and sent them all a file. "That's their preliminary script. They want me to be their consultant."
"Poor sods," Joker rolled his eyes. "They have no idea what they just invited into their own home."
"They want it to be a true story, and they want it to be as real as possible in terms of action."
"I can smear the walls with some actors, if it's gonna help," Jack offered with a dangerous hope in her eyes.
"I'll get back to you on that, because I have a feeling it'll end up being more trouble than it's worth."
"It could be an interesting project," Garrus said thoughtfully. "It really is a chance to tell your own story, to show to the public who you really are, who we are. Make you less of a hero and more of a person. That would definitely help you integrate into the civilian society, and that's what you want, isn't it?"
"True," Joker and Jo exchanged a look. "You think we should do it? Supervise the vid?"
"At least it will give you the chance to do damage control before more atrocious lies are spread."
"Yes, I never get to fix problems before they happen. I usually get called in when things already got out of hand."
"Face it," Karin said. "Someone will make that vid, whether you like it or not. You might as well make sure that your story is told on your terms."
After all Jo's classes were finished, she sat in her office alone, reading the script.
"They're taking a lot of artistic licence," she said. She was never truly alone, even though it looked like she was expressing herself to an empty room. Dex replied:
"Most of the intel about you is classified. They had to use their imagination. You know that there already is a vid about you, don't you? Citadel?"
"I've heard about it, but never watched it. Was it any good?"
"Risa Uvarsen directed it. It was pretty good. Since it was about your conflict with Saren and the intel was a bit convoluted, they had to use their imagination a lot as well." He paused. "Jo, are you at all aware that as a famous person throughout the galaxy you attract a lot of civilian attention?"
Jo frowned:
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that wherever you go, curious observers always point their omnitools at you."
"I knew that, how do you think the footage of my ass in a bar ended up helping the Alliance with their recruitment numbers?"
"I mean a side effect to that."
"Out with it, Dex!"
Matt butted in:
"Jo, there are thousands of fan-made vids on the extranet, starring you. People use their own footage of you, official news, security footage, they exchange vids, create new ones, use software to put your face into new surroundings. They make music videos, compilations, TOP 10 lists of anything related to you. Like TOP 10 Shots of Commander Shepard's Sweet Ass. I didn't come up with that title, don't kill the messenger."
Jo opened and closed her mouth a few times, dumbfounded.
"Are you for real?" She forgot how to breathe in a frantic attempt to understand the world she was living in.
"I'm afraid I am. And that's not the worst of it."
"Do I even want to know?"
"I'm sure you don't. I'm just going to tell you, and it's up to you to investigate or not. Jo, a person with your level of fame, exposure to the media and with all the miraculous deeds under your belt, inspires a lot of fan fiction."
"Excuse me?"
"That's all I wish to say about it. Sadly, that vid, Citadel, set the strongest wave of it in motion. It gave all your fans a starting point. It's something they use as a common denominator. From there on they let their fantasy fly."
"It's going to get only worse if this new vid comes out, right?"
"Yes," Dex sounded somewhere in the middle between grim and apologetic. "The ICA leadership before you chose not to shoot down any of the fan-made content. Would you like to change that policy?"
Jo took a deep breath.
"No," she sighed. "As much as I'd like to tell you to nip it, it would look too much like I'm censoring the public, influencing my own image. I'm sure that it could be used against me in that trial that's still going on, investigating me."
"Yes."
"All right, so let them all be. Fan vids, stories, music, art - whatever I inspire in people. As much as I wish for privacy, I am who I am. If I cared about such things, I shouldn't have become... myself."
"That's the attitude," Matt sounded relieved. "By the way, add to that list comics, animation, games, VIs, simulations of both sexual and combative nature, exhibitions, foundations, biographies, jokes and anecdotes, advertisements for guns, implants, food, clothing and more, poetry, scholarships, theatre plays, memorials, a museum and a theme park or two."
Later that evening Jo told her sister and husband about it as they all drank Joker's non-alcoholic cocktails in Justine's living room.
"You didn't know?" Justine chuckled. "Seven out of the top ten results in an extranet search for your name are fan-made sites dedicated to you. Maya showed me. It made me resent you, you know. I thought you were encouraging it."
"I do believe I had more important things to do!"
"I believe you now," Justine shrugged. "But to a newcomer to the galaxy it sure looked like a Shepard cult in many, many variations."
"I'm... speechless."
"Jo, I just want you to know that I was aware of all that," Joker said sheepishly. "I just chose not to tell you. I'm the guy with voyeuristic tendencies, so I found a lot of this stuff on the extranet. You didn't need to see any of it. Some of the content is bizarre and disturbing. Remember that VI on the Citadel? Creepy as hell."
They both shuddered at the memory.
"You're right," Jo agreed. "And thank you for filtering it from my attention."
"I think this is the first time I know of when the wife thanks the husband for hiding something," Joker looked smug.
Jo gave Multistars a go ahead on the vid and the news of it spread among the recruits like fire. Between their courses they kept talking and discussing and speculating, even after Jo reminded them that none of them would be portrayed in the vid. She and Joker promised Multistars to check in after the Victory Ball, which bought them two weeks of relative peace.
When the ball was merely five days away, Jo took time to go shopping. The capital boomed. There were millions of shops everywhere, and millions of shoppers. Life went on. Even though the coming ball marked the end of the Reapers, there was no talk about the war. There was, however, a lot of excitement about the ball itself. Many stores played vids on that in their windows. Jo had no idea where to look, but she decided she wouldn't call any girl friends for help. Kasumi could dress her up in two minutes, but Jo needed and wanted to do this on her own.
Through one window she saw an expensive store with more shop girls than customers inside. It suited her just fine, she didn't want spectators. And lately she could afford to spend an outrageous amount of money. While she observed, a tall, muscular, dark-skinned man with an imaginative haircut and dressed somewhat "too much" sent his last customer on her way with a few shopping bags. It was the way he smiled that made Jo walk in. He seemed... honest.
When Jo entered, she found herself in a world she knew little of. As she walked past a wall with electronic catalogues, the man hissed at her:
"Damn, sugar, you're a disaster!"
One of the girls shushed at him and Jo heard her whisper:
"Don't you know who that is? Commander Shepard!"
The man said firmly without lowering his voice:
"I don't care who she is out there. In my house she's just a woman in bad, bad clothes." He marched towards her and blocked her way. Jo stopped, looking him over while he was looking her over. He was more gay than the whole planet could handle, but Jo found it just as refreshing as it was talking to Cortez. A man who didn't care about her ass and boobs. "Sugar, you need some serious work. I ain't selling you any of my beautiful dresses unless you do something about that look of yours."
Jo put her feet apart to shoulder width, locked her hands behind her back and assumed a commanding stance.
"Are you up for a challenge, or are you just all hot air and no substance?" She said in a homicidal voice. The man made a funny gesture with his hand, kind of waved it in the air, and laughed:
"Now you're talking, Sugar. I'm Simone, and you came to the right place. I should warn you, my time is not cheap."
"Is that the kind of treatment the saviour of this whole damn universe gets?" Jo tsked. "No shame."
"I don't need your money, Sugar. I need you to drop my name when people ask you who made a pretty lady out of the wreck that you are now."
They looked at each other, then Jo extended her hand in greeting:
"Call me Jo."
Simone carefully shook her hand and examined his own afterwards, as if he was looking for damage.
"You're going to that ball, I presume?" He asked her.
"Have to. It was a direct order from the powers that be."
"I'm not encouraged by what you're wearing right now. In fact, I'm sceptical whether you're even worthy of my creations. What's with the lumpy sweater?"
"I'm pregnant and showing a bit. I don't want anyone to know just yet."
"Even your husband?"
"Don't be silly, he got me pregnant, but he's the only one who knows."
"So, why tell me?"
"Just so you know I have a reason to wear what I'm wearing. I always have a reason. And I need a dress that will conceal it."
"All right," he reached out, grabbed her by her neck and dragged her to the white silk corner surrounded by mirrors and pushed her into a pristine chair. "Sit, shut up and let me look at you."
"Shouldn't I stand?"
"I said shut up."
Jo sat back and waited patiently, while he was looking at her. All six shop girls gathered around the counter nearby, after they put up a CLOSED sign at the front door.
"All right, at least I've got some material to work with, Sugar. That's your only salvation."
"What are you talking about?" Jo threw up her hands. "I have thousands of men drooling after me wherever I go."
"Military men? Ugh, don't get me started on those tasteless idiots with their tongues sweeping the floor whenever anything resembling a pussy walks by. No style at all. What you need is a complete make-over. And I ain't just talking about the ball, either. You need to look like a woman. And first off, you need to start putting on weight. You look like a scarecrow, I can count all bones in your hands, and I dread to see what you're hiding under that sweater of yours."
"Scars."
"Well, that's tough luck, Sugar. Why don't you have them removed?"
"I'm Commander Moreau. Without the scars I'm incomplete."
"All right, Shawna, Tivy, call up Gray and Dorothea, we've got a project." The girls at the counter jumped to do as Simone said and he resumed looking at Jo.
"Who are Gray and Dorothea?" She asked.
"A couple of my buddies. Gray will do your hair and make-up, Dorothea will help you learn how to act like a woman."
Jo sat back. This wasn't exactly like picking her own dress, since a whole team of people was going to make her pretty, but at least Jo wasn't asking Kasumi for help. This counted as her own effort, right?
"Just so you know, I'm perfectly trained to wear ball gowns and stilettos, move like sex on a stick, dance a hundred different dances and engage in polite conversation. The only trouble is... I can only do that when I'm on a mission. In my private life... Not so much."
"You're just scared to be a real woman."
"Funny, that's what my girls said on my wedding day."
While Simone was still examining her, two men dressed as colourfully as him came in. The one introduced to Jo as Dorothea wore make-up and spoke in a high voice. Apparently, nobody in the world of fashion cared about women as women. The only thing these people cared about was making women pretty.
All three agreed that Jo needed some more fat under her skin to look really healthy and glow with beauty. She didn't disagree: between dying, getting married and pregnant she wasn't eating more than she burned, and extra food was the only way to fill out again. Grey stepped behind her and ran his hands through her hair, twisting it this and that way.
"You've got a beautiful natural colour, honey, but you desperately lack proper hair care and a decent cut. Come back by my shop tomorrow after five, I'll make you pretty," he said.
While Simone and Dorothea discussed something by the row of hanging dresses, Grey gave Jo tips on how to get her hair and skin look fresh, and shook his head at her utter ignorance in such things, muttering about military orphans. He did, however, express his admiration for her perfectly shaped eyebrows, which she never thought about at all until he pointed out that it was the one thing about her face that didn't need any correction. She let that comment slide.
"I decided to make you a new dress," Simone declared upon approaching her again.
"Do you have enough time?" Jo asked.
"Don't you worry, I'm a professional. Despite all that neglect you're showing, you're still worth the little extra effort. Now you may stand."
They fussed around her for over an hour, taking her measurements, parading fabric samples, dismissing things without consulting her. Then Dorothea tried to coax her into acting like a woman. Jo felt really stupid. If she went undercover, she could wear anything, do anything. But when it was a private matter, the high heels Dorothea put in front of her looked like bear traps. In the end he ended up telling her she was on a mission, just to see if she was telling the truth about being trained.
"You've got some mental damage, missy," he shook his head in disbelief, when Jo demonstrated how well she could play a role by becoming a member of British royalty, then a hooker, then a troubled teenage boy. "There's a block in your head and you need to get rid of it stat."
Jo couldn't agree more, but there was no helping it that very instant. When she finally went home, Jo was assured that the dress would be fabulous. She asked Simone to make something for Joker as well and gave him all the needed measurements off the top of her head. He was impressed.
At home Joker seemed to have forgotten about the ball entirely. His mind was on the latest news about a new law discussed by the government, a restriction of fuel access to non-essential flight forces. Technically, the Academy was such a non-essential force and his recruits would have to do with less fuel, if the law passed.
That first visit with Simone gave Jo a lot to think about. She was starting a new life and there was no excuse for her inadequacies any longer. She wanted to try new things, reinvent herself, discover civilian life for herself. She wanted to learn how to be a lady even outside of mission parameters.
That meant that she went shopping every day before the ball. She came home with dozens of bags and completely replaced her military supply of functional clothes with new, civilian, prettier, more colourful clothes and shoes. She even started wearing a skirt to work and only kept the N7 badge on her blouse to mark her status. The rest of the military woman was gone. Joker was a little surprised, but not too displeased. She was flashing bare calves most of the time now, sometimes even tantalizingly round and sexy knees, and he found that civilian shoes for women not only made Jo's feet look tiny, they also made him imagine thrusting his hard dick between her toes. He decided he liked those shoes. And his wife indulged in his little fantasy the night before the ball.
Around noon the day of the ball his wife disappeared. Joker realised that she didn't even tell him where she was going, which was odd, but not a rare occurrence lately, what with all the shopping. When he called her, she didn't respond. An hour later he began worrying, more for the baby than her – what would be the point worrying about the toughest person in the galaxy? Right? Sill... And then a taxi honked in front of the house. Apparently, she sent it to bring him somewhere. Joker bit his lips as he grinned on the way. He only liked surprises when Jo was involved.
The car stopped in the middle of a shopping street in front of some fashion store. Joker realised that this was about the ball. He would have liked to ignore it but every channel on the planet had been buzzing about it for weeks. There were two girls waiting for him in front of the store who escorted him inside to a white silky sitting corner. There were three men waiting for him, all three dressed like drag queens.
"So, Honeydip, you must be it," one of them said. "I'm Simone. At least your lady had the decency to give us a couple of days to work out all the neglect on her. With you we'll have to work lightning speed."
The other two got up flanking Simone and measured Joker with appreciative glances:
"Hello, gorgeous, I'm Dorothea," one of them said, stretching out a soft, perfumed hand. For a moment Joker gaped at the man attached to that hand. This was all as far from the world he was living in as it could possibly get. Or maybe he'd been in the military for too long and lost the touch with the real world?
"Hands off, ladies, that property's already marked," Jo said from somewhere behind him and Joker turned around.
And held his breath.
She wore a blood red silky flowing gown that fell lightly over her shoulders, made a curve around her breasts, which were free of all underwear, he could even see her nipples. The red fabric accented her butt but hid the little baby bump. Her hair was falling in soft waves from a complicated hairdo, her makeup made her eyes big and soft, and her lips were too irresistible. And when she turned around, presenting herself to him from all sides, he saw red stiletto sandals.
She hadn't worn heels that high even to their wedding. This was different. A red dress to turn heads, to stop hearts, to steal breath and to erect whatever could be erected.
"So," she said eventually. "You approve?"
Joker remembered to suck in some air.
"I… uh… hm. Yeah. Yeah, I approve. I think I'll need a gun. And you'll need bodyguards." He stepped closer to her, raised his hands to touch her and hesitated, not sure if it would mess something up, wrinkle the dress or disrupt the hair. But then he decided he didn't care. He slid his hands around her waist and whispered quietly into her ear: "And I'll be the one taking you home tonight."
He could feel her heartbeat speed up, and her breath become shallow as her chest rose and fell against his. He always found her reaction to his words of passion fascinating. Her cheeks grew rosier and he could feel heat from her skin when she leaned in a little closer. Encouraged, he let his stubble touch her face:
"When we're back home, I'm going to taste all of you, while you're still wearing these shoes…"
"Ugh…" someone sighed behind them. The rest of the people present couldn't hear him, but they could guess very well what the exchange was all about. Jo swayed a little before she looked over Joker's shoulder at the three opulently dressed men:
"Did you just 'ugh' me and my husband?"
"No," Grey said. "Just the weirdness of man and woman… touching. Like that. Ugh."
"All right, Honeydip, we heard you need something to wear, so let's get you ready for that ball," Simone clapped his hands, all business. Joker stepped away from the trio:
"None of you is helping me dress up."
There was a silent pause, which Jo interrupted:
"None of you sluts is indeed pawing my man. Just bring the tux you prepared, he can dress himself."
"Ugh, the lady just got bossy, who knew?" Grey hissed. Jo had been extremely obliging as long as her own outfit was in question. When the guys turned interested looks towards her husband she turned into a dragon. A very possessive and territorial one.
The shop girls handed Joker a white tux with a red shirt to match Jo's dress and he disappeared behind a thick curtain. When he reappeared, he was wearing the clothes and the perpetual cap.
"We should do your hair," Grey said. "Or at least shave some of it off your face," he added.
"And you should lose the cap," Dorothea spoke up.
"He keeps the beard and he keeps the cap, that's final," Jo said.
"I really liked you more when you were quiet," Simone said.
"And I really liked you more when you weren't devouring my husband with your eyes, sluts," she said firmly.
"Bitch," Dorothea shook his head with a grin.
"Stating the truth won't insult me," Jo shrugged. "Well, I guess we're ready to rock that ball."
"Right. Don't forget to mention us when you're asked about your dress and looks," Simone said. "And see you here for the next ball. Should be in less than two months."
"What? Why?"
"Because there will be a New Year's ball, d'uh."
"No, I mean, why would I need to see you guys again?"
"For a new dress, idiot," Simone rolled his eyes. Jo froze in utter confusion:
"But what should I do with this one?"
All thee stylists groaned.
"Sugar, I don't know what universe you dropped out of, but in this one there is no way a woman can wear the same dress twice to a function."
"A new dress for every ball for the rest of my life?!" Jo made a gesture with her hand that reminded Joker of her reaching for her side arm, but as she found none on her, she just waved it in anger.
"Yes, stupid. That's the whole point."
"And what am I supposed to do with this one after tonight?"
"Keep it, sell it, who cares?"
"If I keep all the dresses from now on, I'll probably soon need a whole house just for them. And who would want to buy it?"
At this point Joker spoke up:
"Actually, you have millions of fans out there who would probably pay with their own blood and bones to get their hands on a dress you've worn to the first annual Victory Ball. It's going to be an outrageously expensive collectible. Just say the word."
"You think?"
"Sure."
"In that case I insist on paying you for it," Jo said to Simone. They argued a little more but then settled on a number. Joker noted to himself that Simone, despite his original intention to let Jo have the dress for free, set a pretty steep price. It was enough to buy a new car.
When they finally left the store, Joker realised that Jo had taken his Swan to get here earlier. That saved them the trouble of getting a cab and it gave Joker the additional pleasure of cruising across town in the fastest car on the market with the hottest woman in existence.
"Jeff," Jo said urgently half way in. "I'm not on a mission tonight. That means I'm not exactly comfortable in these clothes. In fact I just may stumble over my own feet and plant my face in the carpet. You'll need to hold me firmly through the night."
"You're still not over that nonsensical hang-up?" He snorted. "Yes, I've got your back. Will you also turn two-left-feet-clumsy if someone asks you to dance?"
"Very likely."
"The ball is suddenly looking a lot more appealing," he noted with a smug grin. "Can't wait to watch some poor sucker fight for his life on the dance floor with you."
"Will you be keeping the score for all the feet I step on?"
"You bet!" They both laughed hysterically until the car wobbled and Joker swiftly returned his attention to the controls.
The Galactic Dome blazed with powerful lights ahead of them, surrounded by news shuttles and security forces. Guests were coming from several solar systems, forming rows of hundreds of cars to wait for their assigned parking space. Chrysalis went all out for this party. Despite hating public appearances Joker found that he was really looking forward to it.
