This follows Joker's struggle with his guilt into the mainstream part of ME2 as a sort of behind-the-scenes kinda deal before the Normandy hits the Omega-4 Relay. Also, I wrote this piece before the release of ME3. So... yeah. I wasn't aware at the time that Joker and EDI were to become an item.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome and much appreciated. Please, no flames.

Into The Void :

Guilt

oOoOo

The Normandy seemed so empty without its crew. It was a proverbial ghost town.

And as Joker limped through the empty CIC and towards the bridge, there were no welcoming choruses to greet him as per usual. No familiar faces. Just empty chairs and more silence.

He was getting tired of the silence.

He sighed deeply as he collapsed into his leather chair, cradling his head in his hands. The action was immediately detected by EDI, whose blue avatar suddenly appeared beside him.

She winked. "There was nothing you could have done, Jeff," consoled the ship's AI in its usual emotionless voice. Having interacted with humans for a few months now, she seemed to have learned a better grasp of their body language. Still, it had come a long way for an A.I. Maybe the farthest any had ever come towards understanding organics.

For the longest moment, the pilot said nothing. He simply pulled his trademark cap off and massaged his temples, his heart and mind clouded with guilt.

"I know, EDI," he said at last, his voice quiet. Then, it lowered again. "But that doesn't stop me from wishing I'd done something more."

"You did all you could, Jeff," EDI replied after another moment.

Hearing this sparked something in the pilot, having been told similar things countless times throughout his life. He lashed out, slamming his fist on the metal console before him. He felt like yelling at someone like he had done with the Commander a short while ago, but stifled the urge to lash out at EDI. She was just an AI, after all. She wouldn't fully comprehend the sentient emotions that fueled his words. And if he was completely honest with himself, she didn't deserve it. She'd done all she could when he released her from protocol, saved the ship from the Collectors and killed any that remained aboard. All in all, it was still more than he could have done. And she'd been nothing but helpful since Shepard's return, if not worrying in her omniscience. None of the crew had been exactly comfortable with having an AI onboard. Especially those who were familiar with the geth and all that had happened two years ago. But EDI had proven herself trustworthy. At least, so far. There was still a chance she could turn on them all and hijack the ship. Nothing likely, but still.

Again, the pilot brought his fist down. He cursed as it made contact and a jolt of pain shot up his arm, lingering in his hand.

He was so tired of people trying to tell him what he could and couldn't do. Didn't they think he knew his body had its limitations? That his bones were as brittle as glass? He couldn't fight, he knew that. But it couldn't stop him from knowing he could have done more.

Sure, he knew his body had its limitations, but it couldn't stop him from wanting to do something more.

And he was so tired of feeling like he'd failed Shepard. The man had been something close to a good friend aboard the original Normandy and his death had hit the pilot pretty hard. For the longest time during those meaningless two years, he'd felt like he was personally responsible for Shepard's death. This guilt was the reason he'd stuck by Shepard so devotedly when the Alliance decided to play Q&A after his death, and his loyalty to a "mentally-unstable" man had resulted in his getting grounded indefinitely. If only he hadn't been so stupid and evacuated when he was supposed to, Shepard would never have died. They'd be one Normandy shorter, but, as much as it pained him to even think it, that was an acceptable loss. The Alliance could build another Normandy. They couldn't build another Shepard. Men like him were born, not made, and were extremely rare even so. Or so he thought.

When Cerberus rebuilt him and they were reunited, the pilot couldn't help but think the wait and the guilt was worth it. The Normandy better than ever and an unstoppable Shepard. Oh, there hadn't been a doubt in his mind that the Collectors were going to have their asses handed to them.

He knew he could never be a soldier. Operating any number of weapons would likely shatter every bone in his arm. He was unable to move quickly and, therefore, remained a liability in most situations. He could never be the figurehead hero like Shepard. He could never be Shepard. But that was why he had joined the Alliance in the first place. To make a difference, to be as much of a hero as he possibly could. He knew he would never be accepted as a soldier, so he joined as a pilot. He had an interest in starships that wasn't lost on the recruiters. Turns out he'd be one of the best in the business. That was why he was commissioned as the original Normandy's pilot, prototype as it was. Because he had a way with ships that bordered on the impossible.

But still, there was that festering jealousy. Being next to worthless in a real fight, he still wished he could have done something more for the crew. Battled the Collectors and won. Like Shepard would have done.

Vrolik's syndrome is a real bitch, he thought.

"Jeff?" called EDI, with an almost unnoticeable note of concern in her synthesized voice.

The anger dissipated, leaving the pilot feeling guilty and incompetent. He bowed his head. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice a mere croak.

"Are you all right?"

EDI's concern touched something in the pilot, being an AI as she was. For a pregnant pause, there was silence in the cockpit.

"No," the pilot said finally, his voice cracking. "No, I'm not, EDI. But that doesn't matter." He felt the sharp pinprick of tears and hastily swiped at his eyes. "Damn it. What's our ETA for the Omega-4 Relay?"

"Two hours, thirteen minutes, standard Earth time," informed EDI.

The pilot held his own against the emotion swelling up inside him and brought his downward descent to a standstill. I'm a grown man, damn it! Bringing himself under control, the pilot righted his chair and prepared himself. "Good," he said in a voice that was more confident than he felt.

Whatever happened, he would not let Shepard down again. He would not fail the man who had saved his life and died in the process. Even if it meant his own death and the Normandy's. This time around, there could be no excuses.

One last word escaped the pilot's lips as he began scanning through the ship's systems, evaluating the Normandy's current performance.

"Good."

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