"All this time I can't believe I couldn't see

Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me

I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems

Got to open my eyes to everything"

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

The time right after Shepard had died had been one of the worst of Joker's life. The Alliance had disbanded their team. The commander had been the glue that had held them together, and without her, they'd scattered throughout the galaxy. Worse, the Council had downplayed the Reaper threat, both the one they'd defeated and the one that had still remained. Joker himself had been grounded; denied the only thing that might have helped him to work through the loss. He'd returned to his family on Arcturus, not knowing where else to go or what else to do.

Joker had been consumed with rage, grief, and guilt. He hadn't been able to eat or sleep. His father had wanted to help, but hadn't known how. He'd given him the pep talk – Hang in there, things will get better, they always do - but Joker hadn't bought it. His mother, on the other hand, had that special intuition born from having a child who'd needed a little extra assistance in life. She was especially attuned to her son, and seemed to understand that he'd lost more than a commanding officer, or even a friend. She'd encouraged him to talk to her about Shepard and the rest of the crew. But he'd known what she was trying to do, and he'd resisted. He hadn't been ready to go on with his life; hadn't wanted to heal.

Then Cerberus had found him. They'd told him that they could put him back to work, piloting a new Normandy. Joker had refused. Then they'd told him that Shepard was still alive. He hadn't believed them – had been enraged at the suggestion, in fact. He hadn't understood what they'd hoped to achieve with such an outrageous lie. But then the Cerberus lackey had handed Joker her dog tags. They'd been burnt and warped, but they'd been clearly legible. The agent had informed him that although Shepard was alive now, that could change at any moment. There were no guarantees. But he could fly for them and help with the design of the new ship, and if Shepard survived, they'd be reunited. If she didn't, he was free to leave at any time. Joker had pondered it briefly, accepted, and pocketed the dog tags. He'd decided he'd give them to her when he saw her next.

Months had gone by. Joker had been given updates on Shepard's condition when he'd asked for them, but his requests to see her had always been denied. She was unconscious, but alive. She couldn't have visitors. A part of him had suspected that it was all a ruse - to what end, he couldn't imagine - but if there was even a possibility that it was true and that Shepard was really alive, then he couldn't bring himself to walk away. In the meantime, Joker had assisted with the recreation of the Normandy. It was a masterpiece – even better than the original. No expense had been spared. He'd taken it on test flights with a skeleton crew, but refused Cerberus' suggestion that they find an interim commander. The Normandy had one commander, and she was the only one with whom he'd fly. If she didn't make it, well, then Cerberus could find a new pilot as well as a new commander. Simple as that.

Then one day, out of the blue, Joker had gotten the call. Shepard was awake. He could see her. He'd been giddy with anticipation; had to wipe his sweating palms on his pants before entering the room. He'd been worried that she'd blame him for her near-demise, but she'd seemed almost as happy to see him as he'd been to see her. It had been a surreal moment. He'd seen her die, yet she'd been standing in front of him. A few more scars, maybe, but the same old Shepard. There'd been so many things that he'd wanted to say, but not in front of the Cerberus drones. He'd decided that it could wait.

"Just like old times, huh?" Joker had asked as he'd escorted her for her first look at the new Normandy.

"I can't believe it's you, Joker. How'd you get mixed up with these guys?"

"It all fell apart without you, Shepard. Everything you stirred up, the Council wanted swept under the rug. The team was broken up, and I was grounded. Cerberus offered to rebuild the ship; let me fly again."

"Do you trust them?"

"Hell, no. I don't trust anybody; you know that. But they saved your life. They can't be all bad." Joker had been grinning like a fool, but hadn't been able to stop. The expression felt foreign on his face after all this time. "And check this out."

They'd reached the docking bay, and Joker had flipped on the lights. Shepard's jaw had dropped at the sight of the Normandy replica gleaming before her eyes.

"Wow!"

"Amazing, huh? It's even better than the old one. Wait until you see the inside."

They'd stood side-by-side at the railing, gazing at the ship, and for the first time in two years, everything had felt right. Joker had vowed that if he somehow got a second chance, he wouldn't waste it. He would tell her how he felt. But when the moment had come, his voice had deserted him. All he'd been able to say was, "It's good to be home, huh, Commander?"

Shepard had leaned into him slightly, her skin warm against his. "It sure is, Joker. It sure is."

And just like that, things had gone back to the way they'd been before – almost as if the past two years hadn't even happened. Shepard hadn't trusted Jacob or Miranda because of their affiliation with Cerberus. She'd been hoping to reunite some of the old crew, but the Illusive Man had harbored other ideas. He'd provided her with dossiers on some potential recruits, and she'd reluctantly sought them out. She'd recruited the salarian doctor, Solus; and had been thrilled when the other Omega recruit, Archangel, had turned out to be her old pal Garrus. Joker had been slightly less enthusiastic, since he'd always found the turian to be aloof and rather intimidating. But he'd known that Shepard trusted Garrus implicitly, so that was good enough for him. They'd picked up the psychotic biotic, Jack; and the test tube krogan, Grunt (where did Cerberus find these people?) and they'd started to look like a team again. Sort of.

But then, the Illusive Man had requested (in that way he had that was not really a request, but rather, a demand) that Shepard attend a Cerberus fund-raising event. She'd tried to refuse, but he'd insisted. Rebuilding the commander and the Normandy had been expensive, and their coffers needed to be replenished if they were to fight the Collectors. Shepard's resurrection had been a sensational accomplishment. She was the most famous human in the universe. Investors who met her would be begging Cerberus to take their money…yada yada yada. Joker had known as well as Shepard that it was all bullshit, but she'd finally capitulated. Joker suspected that it had been some combination of guilt and responsibility that had finally done her in. The Illusive Man could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

And that was how Shepard had ended up standing in the cockpit earlier this evening in an outfit that had, quite literally, taken Joker's breath away.

"How do I look?" she'd asked, nervously. She'd been wearing a black cocktail dress with a halter top that had tied behind her neck. The skirt had fallen to just above her knees and had flared softly around her legs. Her hair had been pulled up into a knot, with several tendrils falling loose around her face. She'd worn black high-heeled shoes and had clutched a small sequined bag.

"Well?" Shepard had prodded when Joker had merely stared stupidly for too many moments.

"You look beautiful," Joker replied, sincerely.

Shepard had actually blushed, but she'd sounded skeptical when she'd replied, "I feel ridiculous. And I can't walk in these stupid shoes."

"You'll be fine."

"I hate these kinds of functions. I always feel so out of place. You sure you don't want to go with me?" Shepard had asked in a tone that had implied she'd already known what the answer was going to be.

But Joker's mind had flashed back to that night years ago, when she'd stood before him, looking similarly stunning, and he'd let her walk out the door. And all at once, he'd decided that he wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Sure, I'll go with you."

Shepard had gaped at him in disbelief. "You will?"

"Yeah. I need some time to get ready, though."

"Okay, sure." Shepard had smiled with relief. "I'm the guest of honor. The party can't start without me, anyway."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

"Joker." Shepard had called after him as he'd started across the bridge.

He'd paused and turned around."Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Joker had nodded, resuming his trek through the ship to the crew's quarters.

He'd reappeared twenty minutes later. A half-smile had split Shepard's face when she'd spotted him.

"Really, Joker?"

He'd been wearing his Alliance dress uniform. He'd owned a suit, but it'd burned up on the original Normandy. He'd only ever worn it twice, that he'd been able to recall, so he hadn't bothered to replace it.

"Hey, it's all I have. Someone didn't invite me until the last minute, so I wasn't able to plan ahead. Besides, as long as I'm standing next to you, no one's going to be looking at me."

That slight blush again. What did you know – put the commander in a dress and she got all girly! He wouldn't have guessed that.

"Lose the hat, at least," Shepard had advised, snatching it from his head and tossing it onto the pilot's seat.

"Hey! I need that. I have hat head."

"It's not so bad," Shepard had replied, running her fingers through his short hair to ruffle it. His objection to the theft of his hat had died on his lips.

Shepard had studied her work. "I think you're presentable."

"Easy with the flattery, Commander."

"Sorry. You look very handsome. Now, let's go and get this over with."

"It won't be as bad as you think," Joker had assured her, and he'd been right.

It had been much worse than either of them could have imagined.

It had started out like any other fundraiser – dull and boring, but nothing out of the ordinary. There'd been a cocktail hour during which those who'd wished to see and be seen had mingled amongst the trays of free booze and appetizers. Miranda had been there, but Jacob had been conspicuously absent…and the Illusive Man even more so.

"If he talked me into attending this thing, and then he doesn't even bother to make an appearance…" Shepard had ground out through clenched teeth while snagging another drink from a passing server. She hadn't bothered to finish the thought.

Eventually, they'd been escorted to a table near the front of the room. There'd been several long moments of panic and confusion as the event staff had realized that Shepard was now plus one unplanned guest. She'd stood next to Joker without a word of explanation or apology while the employees had scrambled around and ultimately decided to relocate a less important guest to another table. The two of them had finally taken their seats just as the first course had been served.

The food had been good, although the portions were small. Even so, Shepard had just picked at her meal; foregoing food in exchange for the beverages she'd had the waiter bringing her on a regular schedule. They'd spoken briefly with the other guests at their table – a married couple, where the husband was the CEO of an aeronautics company on earth; and an older gentleman, with a busty blond half his age on his arm, who was funding a new human colony on the edge of the Traverse. Joker had admired the man more for snagging the blond than for any of his professional accomplishments, although he'd supposed that one had led to the other. Too bad he wasn't ever going to get rich piloting Shepard around the galaxy. For her part, the commander had struggled to be civil, but he'd observed that her patience had been dwindling in direct correlation to her alcohol consumption.

The servers had just begun to serve coffee and dessert when the lights in the room had dimmed. The Illusive Man had appeared in a hologram on the stage.

"Son of a bitch," Shepard had muttered. "The bastard didn't even show up for his own party."

"Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, thank you for being here with us tonight. I hope you enjoyed your meal."

"For 10,000 credits per person, I would certainly hope so," Shepard had whispered.

"We here at Cerberus have a simple goal – to promote the advancement of human interests in politics, economics, research, and development of the intergalactic world. We may be newcomers to this arena, but we are worthy of being equal participants. And no one is a finer example of that than our own Commander Shepard."

A spotlight had shown on Shepard, and she'd squinted into it, her expression unreadable. When it had become apparent that she wasn't going to pander to her audience, the light had quickly extinguished.

"Commander Shepard was the first human Spectre, and she single-handedly stopped the Reaper invasion on the Citadel."

"Single-handedly?" Joker had questioned, eyebrows raised. Shepard had shrugged and shaken her head in disgust.

"Unfortunately, a short time later, Shepard and her crew were targeted by a ship sent by the Collectors, and the commander died in that attack. But thanks to Cerberus, her death was not permanent."

"Lucky me," Shepard had remarked, taking a healthy swig of her drink.

"We undertook the most ambitious project in our history – perhaps in all of history – to save this hero's life. A two year and four billion credit project in cutting edge bio-synthetic fusion."

Pictures had begun flashing across a screen at the front of the room. At first, Joker hadn't even been able to tell what he was seeing. They'd been extreme close-up shots of unidentifiable objects – until the third or fourth one, which had clearly been a human arm. It had been crushed and bent in a way that indicated it wouldn't be of much use to its owner in its present condition. A woman at the next table over had gagged and run from the room with her hand over her mouth. Joker had simply gazed in wonderment. These were photos of Shepard before the reconstruction.

Shepard had seemed mesmerized. The Illusive Man had continued to verbally pat himself and his organization on the back while the images marched onward. The shots had been clinical – nothing particularly obscene or gory – but they certainly hadn't been appropriate for after-mealtime viewing. The presentation had been in poor taste, to be sure. But as the slide show had continued, Joker had begun to realize that it was more than that. That had been Shepard's shattered body. She had died. He'd glanced at her, wondering what she must be feeling looking at those images. It had been obvious from her expression that she hadn't seen them before. Joker had reached under the table, found her hand, and squeezed. That had broken her reverie, and she'd turned wide eyes his way.

"Okay?" Joker had murmured.

Shepard had nodded, still looking dazed. Joker had given her hand another reassuring squeeze before releasing it.

Luckily, the pictorial trip down memory lane had been coming to a close.

"We transformed the broken body in those pictures into the person you see sitting before you today," the Illusive Man had continued. No spotlight this time, but all eyes had been on Shepard, nonetheless. She'd stared straight ahead, stone-faced. Joker was sure he was the only one who could tell she was shaken. "One of the greatest heroes of modern humanity is alive today because of Cerberus. We need the support of people like you to continue this very important work. Please consider making a donation. Thank you in advance for your generosity, and enjoy the rest of your evening." The hologram had winked off, and Mr. Illusive had disappeared.

The lights in the room had come back up, and slowly the buzz of conversation had resumed. Shepard had blown out a huge sigh and squared her shoulders.

"Well," she'd said.

"Yep."

"That was fun."

"Like a blow job from a vorcha."

That had gotten a startled laugh. "I'll have to take your word on that."

"I take it you had no idea regarding the evening's entertainment."

"None whatsoever."

"Charming."

Shepard had shrugged. "Hardly the worst thing Cerberus has ever done. Just caught me off guard, is all."

"What now, Commander?" Joker had used the title intentionally, trying to restore her sense of control. It had seemed to have the desired effect.

"I'm here, so I might as well fulfill my end of the bargain. Thirty minutes of meet and greet, and then we're out of here. But first, I need another drink." Shepard had stood, and Joker had done the same.

"Sounds like a plan. After you," the pilot had said with a flourish.

They hadn't made it the entire half hour. After viewing the presentation, all of the remaining guests had wanted to meet the once-dead human Spectre. Most had just wanted a few words or a handshake, and Shepard had obliged them - if not happily, then at least cordially. That had lasted until the first idiot had tried to put his hands on her.

"You have a lot of scars," the portly gentleman had stated, swaying on his feet.

"Yeah, falling from space will really fuck you up. I don't recommend it."

"That's a really big one," their new friend had observed, pointing at Shepard's shoulder. He'd been standing perpendicular to her, leaning sideways against the bar while she'd stood with her back to it. He'd been too close, invading her personal space, and Joker had started to fear for the poor slob's safety.

"That's a tattoo," Shepard had snapped, her sharp tone betraying her fading composure.

"I wouldn't mind seeing some of your other scars," the man had leered as he'd reached out and trailed a pudgy finger along the bare skin of her back. Joker had paused just a moment to thank the universe that Shepard's bag was far too small - and her dress far too tight - for her to be packing heat as he'd grabbed her clenched fist before it could meet her intended victim's face.

"Okay, we should be going now. Nice talking with you," Joker had called over his shoulder while trying to muscle a resisting Shepard across the room, which was only possible due to the unbalancing combination of alcohol and high heels.

"What the hell was that? Did you see that? That slug was coming on to me! He touched me! You should have let me punch him."

"You would have gotten blood all over your new shoes."

"I don't care." Shepard had scowled toward the ground. "I hate these shoes. They're killing my feet."

"The slug was drunk. He didn't know how close to death he was. I took pity on him."

"Pity on him? You should have taken pity on me. Ugh!" Shepard had quivered with outrage and disgust.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you've about reached the limits of your ability to be nice to people for one night. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Definitely. Let's get the hell out of here."

They'd almost made it to the door when a young guy with slicked back hair had blocked their path. He'd had a smarmy smirk on his face, and Joker had groaned inwardly.

"Hey, Shepard! If these Cerberus guys totally rebuilt you, why didn't they give you a bigger rack?" Some of his cronies had been standing nearby, and they'd cackled at their friend's great wit.

Joker hadn't even bothered to interfere this time, and they'd both ended up with blood on their clothes from the comedian's broken nose. Sometimes you just couldn't save people from their own stupidity, no matter how hard you tried.

Their trek through the space station and back to the ship had been a slow one. Shepard had ditched her shoes and walked barefoot, dangling the offending footwear from the ends of her fingers. Joker had noted with surprise and amusement that her toenails were painted bright blue. He wouldn't have thought she'd have the time or inclination for such frivolous things. She'd matched her pace to his measured, shuffling one without comment or complaint.

"So, tell me about the tattoo."

"What about it?"

"What's the significance?"

"I got it right after I turned 18 and enlisted. I was excited about leaving earth and going into space for the first time. So, I thought the celestial theme was appropriate. Sun, moon, stars…you know."

"It's nice. Colorful. Do you have more?"

Shepard had turned eyes shining with mischief in his direction. "Yes."

Joker's mind had immediately begun taking inventory of possible locations and designs. "Can I see them?"

"Maybe…if you're lucky."

They'd been approaching the Normandy. They'd entered through the airlock and EDI had logged them in. The ship had been quiet, with only a skeleton crew on duty, since it was late and they were docked. But instead of heading right to the elevator, Shepard had turned left to go over the bridge to the cockpit.

"What's up, Commander?" Joker had asked, following her.

"Did you forget?" Shepard had replied, scooping his hat off the chair and settling it on top of his head. "All night, I kept thinking you looked funny without it."

"Are you calling me funny looking, Shepard?" Joker had teased. She'd stepped closer to place the hat on his head and when she'd finished, her hand had drifted downward to settle on his shoulder. The cockpit had been dim and the lights from the instruments had cast soft shadows across her face. They'd had one of those moments that Joker had only ever seen in movies – their eyes had met and held, the air thick with anticipation, and his breath had hitched in his chest.

"Yes," Shepard had answered softly, and then she'd risen onto her toes and kissed him.

This time, Joker had been slightly more prepared. His hands had encircled her waist, and he'd managed to kiss her back. He'd heard her shoes clatter to the ground as both of her hands had wrapped around his neck. He'd leaned into her, bending her backwards in his arms as his tongue had eagerly explored her mouth. Shepard had responded by pushing forward, pressing his body against the bulkhead and knocking his cap off his head once more.

Which brought them to the current moment in time, when she had her hands under his shirt and her tongue in his ear. And as fabulous as that was, Joker couldn't help but think that perhaps they needed a brief timeout before things went any further.