Author's Note: Translations are in the footnotes.

In case anyone was curious, Clementine is an ENFJ personality type. I use the MBTI for all my characters, which helps me set the gridwork for their quirks and growth. Joker would be an ESFP, of course.

[Insert standard Bioware disclaimer here]

Year of comets and meteors transient and strange!—lo! even here, one equally transient

and strange!

As I flit through you hastily, soon to fall and be gone, what is this book,

What am I myself but one of your meteors?

Excerpt from "Year of Meteors", Walt Whitman

III

One of Your Meteors

Joker was concentrating so hard on the readout in front of him, he didn't even hear EDI's announcement indicating Shepard, Jacob and Miranda had gone ashore. The integers scrolling on the screen were…problematic. He tabbed a comm channel open.

"Donnelly, are you seeing these numbers?"

"Aye," the engineer answered. "This is the second time this week I've recalibrated them damn couplin's. I jus' can't keep droppin' everythin' to make sure the damn things aren't shakin' loose." Donnelly's accent was especially thick when he was frustrated. With the comm channel still open, Joker could hear Gabby Daniels' sharp "here here!" of agreement.

"We've asked the commander to get some new T6-FBA couplings," Daniels continued. "I sure hope she remembers. I just don't want to bother her too much…but we're on Omega, and it's probably the only place they can be found now."

Joker swiveled in his chair to check a readout on the opposite side of the console, scowling in annoyance. "I'll remind her for you, Gabby. Don't you worry."

Joker did worry, however. It had been three days since his and Shepard's lunch on the Citadel (which he had been referring to, in his head of course, as the "Ginger Fiasco"), and she had yet to talk to him. Orders were sent to the bridge either over the comm or in the form of coordinates from the CIC. Joker was pulling double duty until he felt comfortable enough with the relief pilot being alone at the helm, so it wasn't as if she had wandered up to the bridge while he wasn't there. He was always there.

She was avoiding him.

Shepard had been down to Omega and back twice now; apparently the asteroid was running a two for one special. Get an angry, almost dead turian vigilante and receive a hyperactive salarian scientist and a grizzled mercenary for free! Mordin was now making the tech lab his home, Garrus was holed up in the battery nursing his wounded face, and Zaeed was currently on a "tour" of the ship with Kelly Chambers.

Joker did a routine check of his coffee cup and found it to be almost empty.

"EDI, get me more coffee," he said, staring at the AI's holo.

"Even if it were possible for me to do so, Mr. Moreau," EDI responded. "I would not."

In a moment of absolute maturity, Joker stuck his tongue out at the blue orb.

"The human mouth contains up to 1,000 different types of bacteria. It has also been approximately 26 hours since you last brushed your teeth. While I do not have olfactory receptors, my assumption would be that your breath, exacerbated by a lack of oral hygiene and gratuitous amounts of coffee, is extremely unpleasant. I believe the colloquial response to your gesture would be, 'Put your tongue back where it belongs'."

Shit. Did the AI just insult me?

"I…Shut up, EDI." He thumbed the mute button and opened Shepard's comm channel. "Commander, Gabby and Ken wanted me to remind you about the couplings."

Judging by the team's suit cams, they were working their way through several stores. Currently, they were located somewhere that looked a bit less shady than the rest of the ward. From the camera angle he was getting off Shepard's hardsuit, he could almost make out the catalogue of items on the console in front of her.

"I haven't forgotten," she replied tersely. "I'm busy at the moment, but the couplings are on my to-do list."

Joker chuckled under his breath.

"'Busy'. Sure. Hey, Commander, make sure you get me a model of the Destiny Ascension. Mine went down with the SR-1."

On camera, Shepard's hand froze over the merch console. If he had to guess, she was smiling just the slightest bit. He flipped the feed to Jacob's cam, and sure enough, a grin was playing on the edge of her lips.

Got you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant."

"Sure, sure. If they don't have the Destiny Ascension, I'll take one of Sovereign. It can guard my hat at night."

She resumed her scrolling of the catalogue, but angled herself so he couldn't see the screen clearly. "You mean you don't sleep in your hat?"

"Is that really what you thought?"

"Most would say it's a fair assumption."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander."

"Get back to work, helmsman. Tell our engineers I will get their couplings."

"Aye aye, mon Commanduer."

He was feeling better knowing Shepard wasn't too angry with him anymore, but that didn't solve his coffee problem. If he was desperate, he could ask Chambers to bring him a fresh cup, but no amount of caffeine withdrawal was worth that. With a sigh and a groan, he rose from his chair and made his way to the elevator.

Shepard had been almost one hundred percent sure her pilot slept with his hat on. She had even gone so far as to believe he showered with the damn thing (which led to her thinking about Joker in the shower, and she quickly quashed that train of thought).

She had been frosty towards him since their lunch on the Citadel. There was no real reason for her to be upset with him, other than the fact that he was a surly bastard and she (selfishly) wanted the boat shoe clad, French-speaking Joker who had so sweetly taken her hand from across the table. If Tali had been aboard, or even Ash for that matter, she maybe would have vented to either of them. But Tali was with the Flotilla, and Ash was dead.

Damn. It still hurts to think about that.

Shepard left the souvenir shop with a silly grin. Her purchases would be delivered directly to Chambers, with instructions to take them straight up to her quarters. It wasn't often she allowed herself a bit of fun and games, but the plan she formulated in her head was turning out to be a good one.

They purchased the couplings as well as a few other odds and ends (Shepard felt compelled to try an elcor brand of coffee. Why an elcor would need caffeine was beyond her; no amount of the liquid would liven one up), and made their way back to the ship. Shepard had timed their return with a purpose; the relief pilot, a quiet man named Miller, was at the helm, Joker's shift having ended about forty-five minutes prior. She waved on Miranda and Jacob at the galaxy map, and sent the coordinates for Purgatory with a note for Miller to have EDI wake her when they were within an hour of the ship.

In her quarters, the two boxes were waiting for her on the desk. Once upon a time in boarding school, Shepard had discovered a love for model ships. Unpacking a box was like Christmas, each piece fitting together perfectly to form a carrier or a frigate.

"EDI," she said, peeling out of her armor and replacing it with a tshirt and leggings.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Where is Helmsman Moreau?"

"He is currently on his way from the mess hall to the crew quarters. If he is abiding by his usual schedule, he will be changing out of uniform and getting into bed in approximately seven minutes. Nightly REM cycles suggest he will be asleep in approximately twenty-seven minutes."

"Thank you. Let me know if anything changes."

"Of course, Commander."

It was a little after 0200 ship time, and the rest of the regular crew would be asleep. Shepard, however, wasn't the least bit tired. She grabbed the smaller of the two boxes and set it on her coffee table, opening it with relish. Omega may have been a pisshole, but her inner child squealed with glee at the sight of the souvenir shop. She had gone in with the intention of filling up her own display case above her desk, and came out with a well-formulated plan.

Her and Joker were at a crossroad of sorts. She had learned more about him in the past few days then she had the entire time he had served under her on the SR-1. His walls were still up, but she had been able to slip a foot in the door, and was ready to very carefully pry it open. He was the only one who had been there for her when she woke up, and had accepted her with (grudgingly) open arms. She knew that deep down, he did care, but a lifetime's worth of pushing people away and always having to prove himself had given him thick skin. There was, of course, no need for him to be so defensive around her; he had saved her more times than she could count. If they had to be on the ship, surrounded by Cerberus employees, she needed him. She needed him to let down his guard a bit and trust her. A small part of her may have seen his surly attitude as a challenge of sorts, and Shepard had never been one to back down from a challenge. His absolute trust meant more to her than she could ever explain with words.

She decided a little prank would be explanation enough.

Joker's alarm went off, all but shoving him into consciousness. His dreams had been a mishmash of nonsense; even now he was struggling to remember what exactly any of them were about. With a groan, he swung his legs to the floor, bare feet slapping cold metal. Out of reflex, he reached for his hat, where it hung on the peg next to his rack. Hand met peg, and there was no hat.

The shit?

Wide-awake now, he ripped at the blanket, carefully kneeled to peek under the rack, and even checked under his pillow. No black and white SR-2 cap was in sight, and he seethed.

Cerberus had only provided him with one, and now he was hatless.

"Somethin' wrong, Joker?" Donnelly asked, climbing down from his own rack with a stretch and a yawn.

"Hat's gone," Joker replied, opening his footlocker and pulling out a clean uniform. The hat in question was absent from his piles of clothes, clean and dirty.

"Naw! Damn thing's like a part o' ya body!"

"Your hat is missing?" that was Gabby, coming up next to Donnelly, mouth twisted in a frown. "Where was the last place you saw it?"

Joker rolled his eyes and stood, arms clutching his clean uniform. "Last night, when I went to bed, on the peg where I always hang it."

"We've got a thief aboard!" Donnelly shouted, throwing his hands up in mock fright.

"Kenneth!" Gabby punched the engineer in the arm. "Shut up! Joker is obviously upset. It isn't funny!" She turned back to Joker, who was making his way out of the crew quarters to the head. "We'll keep an eye out for it."

Joker made a dismissive motion with his hand and headed to the showers, feeling naked.

At the helm, he relieved Miller, and went to work checking the relief pilot's flying. Their FTL vector had brought them in-system with the prison ship Purgatory, a massive ark station that looked akin to a metal centipede. Reassured that Miller hadn't done anything too wrong, Joker reached for his cup of fresh coffee, frowning. He still felt naked, even after donning his uniform and boots. He ran an awkward hand through his hair, which, once freed of its usual imprisonment, stuck out in tufts. Most likely he needed a trim, but that was low on his list of priorities.

"Mr. Moreau, you seem to be disgruntled this morning." EDI's holo appeared on her console to his left. "And you have altered your appearance. You look…different."

Joker gritted his teeth. I hate everyone.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about my missing hat, would you EDI?"

"It would seem the disappearance of your hat is the cause of your agitation. I do not know the whereabouts of it, Mr. Moreau. But if I see it, I will alert you to its location."

Today is not my day.

He busied himself with bringing the Normandy in to dock with Purgatory, nosing up to the walkway and waiting for the tube to pressurize. Joker wasn't too keen on the whole "bringing a dangerous convict" on board his ship, but Shepard had assured him "Jack" wouldn't be a problem. The common sense part of his brain was telling him that his commander was an accomplished, powerful biotic and knew best. The rest of his brain was telling him it was an absolutely terrible idea.

The sound of boots on metal gangway announced Shepard's arrival to the bridge. Joker, still feeling naked, hunkered down in his chair and grunted a non-committal hello.

"Helmsman, are you out of uniform?"

Shepard appeared in his peripheral vision, wearing armor and a small smile. She had her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, tendrils of blonde escaping to frame her face. She stepped in front of him with her arms crossed.

"You got something to say, Commander?" his voice dripped sarcasm, and he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"You're quite handsome without the hat."

Joker felt a flush rise on his neck and, out of habit, reached up to pull the brim of his hat down over his eyes. Finding nothing but hair, he ran a hand through that instead.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about my missing hat, would you Commander?"

Shepard quirked a brow.

"Why would I need a stinky ol' hat?"

"To make yourself as good looking as I am."

"Last time I checked, I was the best looking one on this ship," came a flanging voice from behind his chair. Garrus, clad in his damaged armor and face bandage, rolled his weight onto one hip and winked.

"Did that rocket cause brain damage, too?" Joker asked, spinning his chair to face the turian. Zaeed was standing next to Garrus, shaking his head.

"You all are wrong," the mercenary growled. "I'm the best lookin' bastard on this boat."

Shepard, who had moved to rest her hands on the top of Joker's chair, was laughing.

"You all are ridiculous. Let's go, Massani, Vakarian. We have a convict to pick up." She laid a hand gently on his hatless head before making her way to the airlock, Garrus bumping his arm into her shoulder companionably.

Shepard was immediately wary of Warden Kuril. The turian had a manner about him that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Garrus, standing inches behind her, leaned down to whisper a word in her ear.

"Bareface."

That was all the confirmation she needed. She laid a calming hand on Garrus' arm, and motioned for him and Zaeed to follow her down the corridor towards out processing.

"I've pu' one or two of these sorry sods away," Zaeed growled. The man had apparently taken offense to Kuril's "bounty hunters aren't reliable" comment.

They passed several cells, including one containing a prisoner being beat by a guard, and a very creepy murderer who hadn't showered in three months. Shepard was secretly glad for the foot of plasglass between her and the convict.

The corridor ended in a large, sparse room, where another guard waved them on towards a door at the opposite end. Garrus was making a small, discontented growling noise, one that Shepard didn't need to ask the meaning of. His apprehension made her spine tighten, and biotic energy began to spread down her arms, unchecked.

The door hissed open, revealing a…cell.

"You're more valuable as a prisoner, Shepard," came Kuril's voice over the ship's comm system. "Drop your weapons and step into the cell and you'll be unharmed."

"This is why we can't go anywhere nice," came Joker's voice over her comm. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she unlatched her shotgun from its place on her back. Blue Sun mercs started pouring into the room, and Shepard rolled to her right behind a desk, feeling the familiar build of pressure in her chest. Her fingertips started to tingle, and she cocked her shotgun.

The mnemonic was a simple pull of her shoulder blades together, forcing the torrent of energy from her chest out to envelope her entire body. The biotic field that surrounded Shepard let her sprint into a mass free channel at blistering speed, pushed at the same time by more energy, right into the closest merc. Armor hit armor with a resounding smack, and his shields failed with a flicker. Her target reeled back in pain, cussing, and she raised her shotgun to his face and unloaded a cyro round, shattering his helmeted head. To her left, Garrus was unloading shot after shot from his sniper, and Zaeed was laughing as he sprayed another merc with rounds from his assault rifle.

The trio cleared the room and sprinted back through the corridor they came through, this time to find almost all the doors had been locked. Shepard hacked the nearest one, which opened into a windowed observation deck. A bullet whizzed over her right shoulder as Garrus shot the worker standing at the control console, and she rushed forward, kicking the body out of the way.

Below them was a wide deck lined with cells, their occupants pounding on the doors and yelling vicious threats.

"That'll open every cell in this place," Garrus said, eyeing the haptic interface in front of her.

"It's the only way to get Jack out and get off this ship," she replied, swiping through several layers of security. "I'm doing it."

A massive robotic arm extended from the middle of the floor, hydraulic claws sinking into the floor of the deck and twisting. With a hiss of cryogenic fog, a tube was lifted up, the small form of a woman shackled inside. She was covered in tattoos and not much else, from her legs to her shaved head.

"That's Jack?" Garrus said incredulously.

As if in answer, the woman's eyes flew open. Almost immediately, she wrenched free of the metal restraints and fell with a soft thump to the decking, body vibrating with biotic energy. Warning klaxons began to sound, and three YMIR mechs began to advance towards the cyro tube. Jack threw herself at the middle machine, fist glowing blue as her punch lifted it up into the air, where it promptly exploded.

"Bloody hell," Zaeed exclaimed. It was almost reverent.

"We've got to get down there," Shepard said, turning on her heel to a side door. The twisting hall led them down to the deck below, where the three mechs now lay in smoldering ruins. Jack hadn't bothered hacking a door open; instead it looked as if she had blasted her way through it, leaving a gaping hole where a door had once been.

"I feel as if she's got it under control," Garrus said, eying one of the sparking machines.

"Yes, but how rude would it be if we missed her party?" Shepard replied, leaning the barrel of her shotgun against a shoulder. "We were invited, after all."

The trio pressed forward into the depths of the cell block, following the path of destruction left by Subject Zero.

Joker watched from the safety of the bridge as Shepard and her team fought their way through an almost laughable amount of Blue Sun mercs and escaped prisoners. He knew that the amount of biotic energy Shepard was expending would leave her utterly exhausted on her return, as well as ravenous. That is, if they made it back in one piece.

Shut up, brain. Stop thinking shit like that. She's perfectly capable of handling a few mercs.

The trio was tag-teaming the turian warden now, and Joker's breath caught in his throat as he watched Shepard charge, the force of her bodily attack taking out the remainder of Kuril's shields. Her biotic sprint left her within reach, and he lashed out, trying to grab at the commander. She danced out of the way, impossibly quick, and over her comm channel he could hear her laughing. Shepard landed a biotic-enforced punch to Kuril's face before flipping backwards off the platform, landing next to Garrus.

"Fall back guys. It's going to get messy."

Zaeed and Garrus retreated to cover, leaving Shepard to deal with the warden. A dark ball of biotic energy left her outstretched hands to hit Kuril in the chest, lifting him up weightlessly, entrapped in a micro singularity. Joker had seen the move utilized before, but it was always a reminder of just how powerful of a biotic Shepard was. It was a technique that should have qualified her as an Adept by military standards; it took a biotic of immense power and ability to produce, but her proficiency with hand-to-hand and shotguns was second to none. Joker watched her biosign readouts; her core body temperature had risen above 100 degrees F, and he knew the amp at the base of her skull had to be burning hot. She was expending herself above and beyond what her body was capable of, and he almost tabbed her comm open to warn her.

It was pointless, of course. Shepard knew her limits better than anyone. Even with her temp fluctuating between 100 and 103 degrees, she was holding the singularity with one hand and gathering more biotic energy with the other. With a forward shove, she unleashed a massive burst of indigo light. Warp met singularity, ripping the warden apart at the molecular level, while the micro gravity of singularity imploded, creating a violent explosion of white and blue light.

Energy dissipated, and Shepard panted, turning back to her crew. Residual biotics lit up the outline of her figure with a shimmer; she looked almost ethereal.

"She's done more with that amp than even our best scientists hypothesized."

Miranda Lawson stood a respectable distance from Joker's chair, watching the vid feeds with a petulant look on her face. He swiveled 180 degrees, lacing his hands behind his head in mock petulance.

"Don't act like you're not jealous, Lawson," Joker retorted. The woman oozed authority, and suddenly the bridge felt too small.

"I'm not jealous, Mr. Moreau. Shepard is performing above and beyond our specifications; I'm incredibly pleased."

Joker scoffed. "You make her sound like a winning science project. She's a person, not something you submit for a grade."

Miranda crossed her arms below her ample chest, looking affronted. "I oversaw her reconstruction for two years. I have more personal stake in this mission than you could ever imagine. That being said, you sound awfully upset for someone who despises all people." She took several steps towards his chair. "I was always vaguely intrigued at your…loyalty to Shepard. Every piece of information I have on you suggests you truly hate working with others, and yet your performance so far has been exemplary, especially when following orders from the commander."

"In case you haven't realized, it's my job to follow orders from my commanding officer? Shepard says, 'Fly the ship here', and I do. Shepard says, 'Come drag my ass out of this volcano!', and I do. It's what I've been doing since the SR-1."

Miranda's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose at his outburst. "Well then. Carry on, helmsman. But just remember; you're not the only person on this ship with a personal interest in our lovely commander." She turned on her heel and walked back down the gangway, hips swaying in an almost vulgar manner. Joker watched her go and repressed a shudder.

She's so not my type. I bet she eats her partners. Like a black widow spider.

He turned back to the vid feeds in time to see Shepard convincing Jack into joining their cause. Purgatory was on the verge of blowing apart in a spectacular show of ship parts and escaped convicts, and he silently urged Shepard to hurry up and get back to the ship. They needed to maintain their docking position and attachment to the pressurized walkway in order for Shepard and her crew to escape, but Joker began warming the eezo core for a quick get away, tabbing up several readouts and double-checking their fuel reserves. The airlock hissed as the decontamination process started before admitting the team and Jack onto the bridge.

Shepard stumbled out first, looking exhausted and exuberant at the same time, almost vibrating energy. She was still shimmering slightly, and Joker peered out the corner of his eye at her biosigns; she was still running a 101 degree temperature. Behind her, Garrus and Zaeed were warily escorting Jack, who was eying everything with malice.

"Joker, Jack. Jack, this is Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, my pilot." Shepard gestured to Joker's chair with a gloved hand. "I apologize ahead of time for his sense of humor."

Jack narrowed her eyes at the helmsman, curling thick lips back from her teeth in a sneer.

"Another Cerberus lackey. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Actually," Shepard interrupted, holding a hand up. "Joker and I go way back to the original Normandy."

"Still wearing a Cerberus uniform. If it looks like a duck…"

"Alright, let's continue on! Joker, get us out of here."

Joker exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. Something about an unpredictable, ridiculously powerful biotic on his bridge amplified his awareness of just how fragile he was. He ran a hand through his hair and nosed the Normandy out into the dark expanse of space.

Later, Joker set his food tray down on a mess hall table, prodding the coagulating mass of goo with a fork. Gardener claimed it was scalloped potatoes and ham, but Joker didn't recall the staple dish ever looking that much like drying glue. Shepard, divulged of armor and battle grime, wearing a black and white Cerberus uniform, set her tray down next to him.

"It has got to be a pain in the ass being vegetarian on a ship," he said, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. Shepard's fare looked only slightly better; reconstituted something or other that was a sickly dark green, covered in lumps of what was probably tofu that had been marinating in a bag for years.

"The worst part is getting the protein I need to fuel my biotics," she replied, shoving a straw into a juice cube. Strawberry flavored, by the look of the packaging; something electrolyte-packed to help replace what she had lost during her recent biotic expenditures. Joker's groin almost ached at the sight of her lips wrapping around the straw, and he busied himself with the tray of food in front of him.

"I used to love tofu," she continued, stabbing a grey lump and examining it before popping it in her mouth. "Now every time I'm somewhere slightly civilized, I stock up on almonds, pita bread and cans of garbanzo beans. Gardener promised me he has an amazing hummus recipe, so I bought an entire crate while we were on the Citadel."

"You're stashing snacks, aren't you, Commander?" Joker pushed his lower lip out in a mock pout, and she giggled.

"If you're nice, maybe I'll share. Do you like spicy food?"

Joker chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "That depends. Before a long shift? Probably a bad idea. But in general? Yeah. The spicier the better."

"Oh ew, Joker!" Shepard laughed, and nudged his shoulder with hers. The soft tingle of eezo made the hairs on the right side of his body stand up. She was still wired from their mission, apparently.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, Shepard chasing stray cubes of tofu around her tray and then asking Gardener for seconds. If Joker hadn't known better, he would have had a hard time believing the tiny woman sitting next to him could put away that amount of food on a regular basis.

"Did you ever find your hat?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"No," he scowled, glaring at his empty tray in frustration. "EDI claims to have no idea of its whereabouts, and none of the crew I've talked to has seen it. I'm starting to think someone is hiding it as a joke."

Shepard cocked her head thoughtfully, blonde curls spilling over her shoulder. "Who have you angered lately? Wait, don't even bother answering that question."

"Now Commander, why would you think that little ol' me would ever make anyone upset?"

She rose from the table, tray in hand, and leveled a petulant look at him. His stomach made its way north to his throat at her stern gaze.

"Hmm, maybe you should ask yourself that question?"

Joker's mouth dropped open, but Shepard was gone before he could find his tongue to retort.

Back at the helm, Joker fumed. Maybe you should ask yourself that question? What the shit is that supposed to mean?

Sure, he was a surly bastard most of the time, but that was his usual modus operandi. Everyone on the ship knew by now that the bridge was his space, and the ship was his baby. Nobody fussed about it. He could be crass and churlish towards the commander as well, but that was normal, too. To his knowledge, it had never bothered Shepard before, until after they had come back from the disaster lunch on the Citadel. It had taken days for her to thaw enough to talk to him, and that was the first time he could ever remember her being angry with him. Wait…

"EDI, where is the commander?"

"Commander Shepard is currently in the deck below engineering, in conversation with Jack."

Joker pulled up the surveillance for engineering, zooming in on the figures of Shepard and the convict.

The shit!

Shepard had changed out of her uniform into jeans and a tank top, probably to make Jack feel more comfortable. Joker couldn't image how well a conversation with the angry woman would go over if the commander had shown up in a Cerberus uniform. Shepard's white tank top practically glowed on camera, but not as bright as his hat on her head.

"You knew about this, didn't you EDI?" Joker spat, leaning in and staring at the vid screen. Shepard was sitting against a bulkhead and watching as Jack paced the perimeter of the alcove.

"The commander requested I 'pretend' to be unaware of the location of your hat, Mr. Moreau. I cannot disobey a direct order from her."

Joker sat back in his chair and gritted his teeth. Of course no one had found his hat laying around, because she had hidden it up in her quarters. He groaned and ran a hand through his now disheveled hair. So she was still pissed at him, which was both a surprise and annoying. Joker wished she would just explain why she was upset, but even as he wished it, he stopped. She wasn't telling him anything, because he hadn't given her the opportunity to. His quips and cantankerous demeanor had repeatedly chased her off the bridge before they even began the semblance of an actual conversation. He slumped his shoulders and tabbed her private comm.

"Commander, when you're done talking to the crazy biotic woman, can you come up to the bridge? I have a question."

On camera, he watched her tilt her head slightly before pressing a finger to her ear and replying, "Be up in a few."

He stretched in his chair and tried to pat his hair down, suddenly feeling nervous.

Jack was coiled more tightly than an angry cobra, and Shepard didn't particularly want to be there when the woman struck, but command was command, and so she slipped into the alcove beneath engineering to try and talk. A person, no matter how patient, could only be called "princess" so many times before the carefully constructed mask started to slip. Luckily, Joker's voice in her ear had been an excuse to leave Jack to stew, and Shepard all but sprinted up the stairs to the elevator.

As she made her way up the gangway, she tried to force her metaphorical commander mask back in place. She knew why Joker had called her up to the bridge. His unlimited access to the ship's surveillance cams along with a quick mind meant he had solved her riddle, and he was most likely annoyed with her. A small voice in her head worried that he would be more angry than amused, essentially ruining the sole purpose of her prank. This is Joker we're talking about here, she chided herself. He's been here since the beginning. He's not going anywhere.

The bridge was dark, the ship having slipped into its night cycle several hours ago. Auroras of mass fields eddied across the windows as Joker piloted them through the black. He spun his chair to face her, and leaned his elbows on his thighs, a grin playing on the edge of his lips. She almost faltered; that was not the reaction she expected from him.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me, Commander." His voice was playful, his hair sticking up wildly where he had no doubt run his hands through it. Without the shade from the brim of his hat, she could see how the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant," she replied, edging closer to his chair. She stopped just out of his reach and rolled her weight onto one hip, fighting to keep a straight face.

He raised a hand and crooked a finger in a "come here" motion, narrowing his eyes. She stayed rooted, sticking her tongue out at him in mock indignation.

"Real mature, Commander."

He drew out the syllables in her title, green eyes never leaving her face. She could feel the familiar tingle in her toes and fingertips, and tamped it down with a deep breath.

"Can I have my hat back now?"

"Hmm." She tapped a finger against her lips, quirking a brow. "Not yet. I kind of like it."

To her surprise, he stood, a full six inches taller than her, and took a step, hand outstretched. She ducked under his arm, twisting away.

"This is entirely unfair."

He lurched forward to try and grab at her again, and she dodged again. Her quick change of direction caught him off balance, and he stumbled. Shepard saw him pitch forward, and reached out, unchecked biotic energy swirling, and caught him with both hands under his upper arms. His momentum carried him forward until he fell into her, cushioned by the mass field. His hands were grasping her upper arms, fingers almost completely encircling her biceps. This was not the outcome I expected, she thought briefly. But ok. She noticed how cold his skin was before the soft shadow of a thought flickered in her mind.

Belle femme.

She froze, his voice still echoing in the recesses of her conscience. His mouth had never opened except in surprise as he pitched forward before she caught him. Her projected biotics enveloped them both in a shimmering cloud, lighting their figures with energy. She was hearing his thoughts, bonded by the skin-to-skin contact of their hands.

He had frozen at the same moment as her, and she felt his surprise, a shadow of a feeling that traveled across her arms and up into her chest. There was an undercurrent of apprehension, and the deeper, huskier feel of arousal along with it. She tipped her head to look at him from under the brim of his hat, and his eyes widened as he felt her response to his emotions.

Almost on instinct, they both pulled each other closer, subtle shades of thoughts becoming louder in her mind. They were abstract, more emotion than words, his mind moving too fast for her to catch anything fully formed. Her heart rate spiked as his lips parted, and he leaned his head down, avoiding the hat bill. He paused, eyes searching both of hers.

Es-tu sûr?

She didn't know if he had been asking her or himself, but she pulled him closer, breath catching in her throat.

Oui.

His lips met hers, and she felt a spark of biotic energy grow and pulse brighter, white even behind her closed eyelids. One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers lacing into her hair with surprising strength. The other splayed across her back and pulled her closer, molding her body to his. She could feel his pleasure on top of hers; it was both heady and almost unbearable. He groaned softly against her lips, and his tongue invaded her mouth, hot and earnest. Desire ignited low in her belly, spreading warmth through her body. She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye as she fought to control the torrent of emotions surging between them. The guilt was not hers, but it pulled at her until she broke, threading her hands into his hair and countering his kiss with a fevered need.

How long? She felt the thought leave her mind, unbidden.

Since I lost you, came his answer, before being swept away on a tide of sensation.

His thoughts became unintelligible strings of images and emotions, and as his mouth moved against hers, she found his lower lip and caught it between her teeth. His sharp intake of breath was her undoing; she felt her amp overheat at the base of her skull, and she pulled back, stumbling until her feet caught the bottom of his chair. She landed in it with a thump, biotic energy dissipating until the bridge was dark, lit only by the flight console and the eddying mass field dancing around the outside of the Normandy. Joker was still standing; panting like he had just ran a marathon. His hair was disheveled where her fingers had raked through it.

The back of her neck burned, and she lifted her hair to the side and skimmed a finger over the amp. It sparked angrily, and she yelped as black spots danced in front of her eyes. Her head lolled back against the chair, suddenly becoming too heavy for her to support.

"Clem?"

She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Joker was kneeling in front of her, hands outstretched in confusion. Her feet dangled off the edge of the chair, and he used the footrest as a place for his knees.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, forcing her eyes open. "My amp. Overheated. Can't move."

"Are you ok? Is there something I can do?"

He looked scared, and she reached out to cup the side of his face in her hand. My pilot. Skin met skin, along with the crackle of biotic energy, and her amp sparked again. She withdrew her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears of frustration and pain and guilt.

"Don't…don't touch me."

He reeled back as if she had slapped him, and she grabbed at the front of his uniform.

"NO! I want you to touch me. I just…my amp. Too much. Don't…don't touch skin on skin."

He let out a sigh of relief and stood, breaking her hold.

"Can you stand? For just a second, ok?"

She pushed herself wearily from his chair, swaying as she got to her feet. He sat in her place, rolling the sleeves of his uniform down his arms, and beckoned her towards him. Carefully, she settled between his legs, thankful Cerberus had installed such a pretentiously oversized pilot's chair. When she was settled, her head falling onto his chest, he grabbed her thighs at the knee and hoisted them over one of the arms so she was cradled against him, her weight resting on the seat between his legs.

With her ear pressed against the fabric of his uniform, she could hear his erratic heartbeat. The back of her neck was still blisteringly hot, and her throat felt too dry.

"Clem? You ok?"

She blinked up at him and realized she was still wearing his hat.

"I think so. Just so tired. And my neck hurts. And my head. And I'm thirsty."

Joker leaned forward, one sleeved arm holding her in place while the other reached for a bottle of water next to the console. He handed it to her, careful to avoid her fingers. She frowned, brow knitting together.

"S'not fair." She took a sip of water.

"What was that?" he asked. He was looking down at her with a concerned frown.

"Would you believe me if I said that's never happened before?"

His laugh shook her as his chest and shoulders moved. He flicked the bill of his hat up in order to see her better.

"Is that why they call it 'seeing fireworks'?"

Shepard pushed her lower lip out in a pout. His face was so close to hers, but the heat on the back of her neck stopped her from reaching forward to grab his head and pull his lips to hers.

"You can blame Cerberus for the light show. I've never been so out of control with my biotics before."

He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"And the…mind reading thing?"

She tensed, flushing as she recalled the images that had flooded her mind as their lips connected. Her pilot apparently had a vivid imagination.

"I really don't know the answer to that, either." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I'm sorry."

His arm tightened around her, and he sighed.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Clementine. I should be the one apologizing."

"I stole your hat!"

"And I kissed you."

"To be fair, you asked first."

His faltered, and his eyes widened at the memory. A flush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks.

"How much did you see?"

She grinned. "Enough."

His blush deepened, and he busied himself with something on the console in front of them. Briefly, she wondered if he could fly the ship with one hand, and then chided herself for even asking such a stupid question. He could fly the ship with no hands, blindfolded if he had to.

"Jeff." Shepard couldn't remember the last time she had called him anything other than "Joker" or "Lieutenant". His name warmed her tongue and she smiled. "Please don't be embarrassed. I'm…I'm flattered."

He scowled, a look so familiar on his face it made her giggle. Without his hat to hide half of his face, she noticed that one of his eyebrows quirked up higher than the other.

"You, Clementine Shepard, N7, Hero of the Citadel, undead Commander, are flattered by the private thoughts of your helmsman?"

"Don't discount yourself, Jeff. And yes, I'm flattered. And turned on. I would be doing more about it, except my head might explode if I tried."

He pondered for a moment before he smiled, looking smug.

"You're turned on, huh?"

"As if the light show wasn't proof enough?"

He leaned his head down, pushing the brim of his hat up. His lips were inches from hers.

"What about now?" he whispered, voice husky and laced with unspoken promises. Shepard pressed her legs together and groaned, fisting the front of his uniform. He smiled and pulled his head away, making her frown.

"I think I need sleep. Sleep and a cold shower and maybe ask Miranda what the hell is going on with my biotics."

Beneath her, Joker froze.

"And uh…how are you going to explain that to her?"

"Are you afraid of Miranda?"

"That woman eats babies for breakfast."

Shepard laughed weakly, burying her head against his chest.

"I'll figure something out. Don't worry. But I'd…I'd like to try and figure this out, too." She peeked at him through her lashes. He ran his free hand through her hair, careful not to touch skin.

"I do too. Tenter le coup."

"Good. Suave-moi la mise."

He chucked and pulled her close.

"I know. It's not like I haven't done it before."

She closed her eyes and drifted, lulled by the quiet drone of the Normandy and her pilot's heartbeat under her hand.

Joker let Shepard sleep in his lap while he monitored their FTL vector. In reality, he wasn't doing anything other than backing up EDI's calculations, and used the downtime to marvel at the woman leaning on him.

I kissed her. She kissed me. Holy shit.

He had been angry at her for stealing her hat, but her form on his bridge, petite frame wrapped in jeans and a soft white tank top, wearing his hat on top of her curls...it was almost as if she was a present just for him to unwrap.

Kissing her had been...right. And not just right, but powerful, addictive, and terrifying. Her skin was blistering hot where his hands had grasped her arms, and he felt the tingle of biotics run through his body, enveloping them. He could feel her surprise and arousal, spreading through him like wildfire. Never in his life had he felt an attraction so powerful and instinctual; it was as if she knew exactly what he wanted, and vice versa. She filled his head with her own heated need, and he didn't even care that she could see the thoughts pouring out of his mind. He wanted to let her in, to let her have all of him.

Thinking about her body pressed up against his while her body was still pressed up against his was a dangerous combination. Her eyelids fluttered lightly as she slept, and he ran his free hand through he hair. It was as soft as he thought it would be. He sighed, checking the time. The day cycle would be starting soon, and he would need to get at least a little rack time before they hit the Citadel again. He tabbed a comm.

"Garrus."

"Joker?"

The turian barely ever slept. He was as obsessed with the ship's gun as Joker was with the ship itself.

"Yeah uh...can you come up to the bridge? I need a package delivered to Shepard's quarters. Discreetly. And be quiet when you come up. Ok?"

There was a very pregnant pause, and Joker fiddle with one of Shepard's curls, wrapping it around his pinky finger.

"I'll be up in a minute."

Joker allowed himself a moment of self-pity. His legs weren't strong enough to support his weight and Shepard's, otherwise he would have been carrying her up to her quarters. She would want to wake up in her own bed, and there would be less questions to answer if it was just Garrus witnessing Shepard asleep on Joker's lap.

The turian's footsteps were muted as he walked up the gangway, and as Joker spun his chair, Garrus stopped in his tracks.

"What..."

"Long story," Joker said, fighting the flush he knew was spreading across his cheeks. "Her amp overloaded and she passed out and well...I can't carry her."

"Shouldn't I be taking her to the med bay?"

"No, no, nothing like that. She's just spent from getting Jack off that ship and all her biotics. It's fine, she just needs rest and probably a giant breakfast."

Garrus' face softened slightly. "I know that's not the whole story, but I won't ask. However, I will say it's about time you both figured it out."

"Uh, what?"

The turian snorted, crossing his arms on his armored chest.

"You've got to be kidding me. You two have been dancing around each other since I can remember. If anyone knows what sexual tension looks like, it's a turian."

Joker clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his sputtering, not wanting to wake Shepard. "Whatever. Can you get her upstairs? People are going to be waking up soon and I don' think she'd appreciate being ogled by the Cerberus crew."

Garrus shook his head and stepped forward, sliding a hand under Shepard's knees and one under her neck, careful to keep her hair between his arm and her amp. She didn't move, and Joker adjusted the hat on her head. She could keep it for the time being. It looked better on her. His commander looked especially small ensconced in the turian's arms, and he nodded a brief thank you to Garrus before turning back to the flight console. He rubbed a hand warily over his face, and noticed the smell of her still lingered on his skin and uniform; soft floral scents of lavender and peony. He still had three hours left in his shift, and he busied himself with a maintenance log, smiling.

Four and a half hours later, he moved stiffly to his bunk, exhausted. Miller had showed up an hour prior the the relief shift on the pretense that he wanted to watch Joker perform a gravity well maneuver. It had taken him another hour to explain the exact calculus and technique behind aerobraking the Normandy using a gas giant's own gravity. By the time he had left the bridge, he was dragging, and his breakfast had been cold. There was no Shepard in sight at the mess, and he figured she would still be sleeping in the comfort of her quarters.

At his locker, he pulled off his uniform and dug for his fatigues, fighting a yawn. Ship racks had never been the most comfortable place to lay his head, but he was looking forward to some serious shut eye.

A white and black SR-2 hat stopped him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he stared at the hat for a second before grabbing it and placing it on the peg where it belonged. Underneath was a small, perfectly to scale model of the SSV Normandy SR-1, the kind you could buy in souvenir shops and put together with model glue and a lot of patience. His heart swelled, and he carefully cradled the model in his hands. The white body of the miniature frigate shone softly in the crew quarters lights. He missed the Normandy, the ship he had fought so hard to pilot. He had told Anderson he was born to fly her. And then he had lost her.

He had lost Shepard too. But she was here, and he had followed her without question, a chance to make up for his greatest mistake. And she had kissed him.

Smiling, he set the tiny SR-1 on the shelf next to his hat peg, and settled into bed, feeling content.

Translations:

Belle femme: beautiful woman

Modus operandi: mode of operation; how one normally goes about buisness

Es-tu sûr?: are you sure?

Oui: yes.

Tenter le coup: I want to try.

Suave-moi la mise: I need you to save my ass.