Vodun
Right. So at the last minute, my head!canon decided to fuck with everyone. Including me. O.o
(Also: Udina, I love you. Never stop being easy to infuriate. Never. All of my paragons will troll you forever.)
Admiral Steven Hackett rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose then looked over at his assistant, who rolled his eyes, then back at the FTL communications array in the middle of his office. Ambassador Donnel Udina's visage remained unchanged except for the occasional flicker of the projection. The Ambassador's receding hairline accentuated the odd shape of his head and the bushiness of his graying eyebrows as they all but formed a "V" in the middle of his forehead. His thin lips were curled into a sour line as he glared what Steven assumed to be Udina's version of daggers.
The Admiral knew that Donnel wasn't going to back down. Donnel hadn't gotten to his position by backing down. If Steven had been any number of weak-willed diplomats, Udina might have come across intimidating, maybe even imposing – if Steven gave him that much credit. (He didn't.) But then, the Admiral hadn't gotten to his position by backing down either.
The current impasse was just one annoyance of the day. And the day was young. Hackett didn't have time for this bullshit. His schedule was full today – as it was most days. There was an Alliance Forces Decorations Advisory Committee meeting in thirty minutes wherein the Committee would discuss the current short list of those who deserved the Star of Terra (among other awards). After that, his assistant had scheduled him lunch with the Defense Minister to discuss troop mobilization to colonies hard hit by the geth. Then he and his staff were supposed to finalize operational areas for Task Force 123, 492 and 321 in an effort to scale back civilian casualties as the geth encroached on human territories within the Attican Traverse – he wished his assistant hadn't scheduled the Defense Minister today, and he couldn't cancel; Bill was just as busy as Steven was. And finally he was scheduled to make an appearance at a press conference later announcing the increased defenses for human territories within the Attican Traverse.
Colonial Affairs was distraught that official colonization had dropped four percent since Parliament had officially declared war on the geth. It didn't help that a large percentage of those potential colonists were disgruntled with the Alliance and were looking to private, nongovernment-sanctioned companies to fund colonies with no Alliance ships within the clusters. Dissidents were moving to clusters like the Shadow Sea, but Horizon was an established human colony with over six hundred thousand residents, and though they had refused a garrison, the cluster's prime mass effect relay was located in-system. It was the smaller colonies that Colonial Affairs was shitting bricks over, like New Canton and New Benin with less than three hundred thousand residents, no garrison, and no mass effect relay in the system. Places that just screamed, "Look! No Garrison! The Alliance doesn't love us!"
"We should have sent someone without history with the Major," Hackett insisted again. There were times for diplomacy and there were times for going in guns blazing. Sending Marquéz as negotiator instead of a team to raid the compound had been the Ambassador's idea, and he'd gone over Hackett's head to get it done. Now without contact from Marquéz within forty-eight hours, they were left wondering if the team was dead or had joined dissident biotics.
"Shepard would have been the better candidate," Hackett continued. "Her negotiation skills are above average. She has a real knack for bullshitting her way into and out of things." She also had a real knack for blowing shit up, but the Ambassador more than likely already knew that, so Steven didn't add that to his rebuttal.
"Shepard is already a political nightmare," the Ambassador argued, throwing up his hands in irritation, confirming Steven's suspicions that the Ambassador knew of Shepard's demolitions prowess. "The Council questioned her motives on Feros."
"Of course they did. They'll question anything that concerns human interests, Ambassador," Hackett replied. "The rogue Spectre and his second in command were there. The asari, Shi'ala, confirmed it. Hell, most of the population of Zhu's Hope confirmed it."
"Has there been anything concrete?" Udina asked tersely. "Any video or audio footage?"
Hackett shook his head. "No, but the asari confirmed that Saren, a turian, has the ability to mind-control an asari matriarch and her followers."
"The asari was and probably still is one of Saren's followers," the Ambassador scoffed. "They won't believe a word she says. Not without definitive proof. Unfortunately, traumatized colonists don't sway the Council very far."
"A turian with mind-control abilities looking for a way to annihilate organics? You don't find this information alarming, Ambassador? "
"I find this information unbelievable, Admiral. As should you. A turian with mind-control abilities?" Donnel shook his head. "This is something right out of a science fiction story. It's obvious this asari is just trying to find someone to blame for attacking Commander Shepard."
The Ambassador paused, crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. It seemed to highlight his oddly-shaped head. "Shepard has passed her last psychological evaluation, has she not?" His accented tone held a challenge.
"She's not stressing under command," Hackett assured him meeting Donnel's challenge head on with a tone and a glare that brooked no argument. "She knows what she's doing. She's gathering intel on the Conduit and the Reapers and hunting a rogue Spectre while fighting his geth army."
"I don't believe she should be pursuing this Conduit or the Reapers, Admiral," Udina stated firmly. "The Council ordered her into the Traverse to hunt Saren and bring him to justice. If she goes on a tangent; they could label her rogue."
"And I don't believe I asked your opinion, Ambassador," Hackett stated just as firmly. "Shepard's the best we have at the moment. See to it that her reputation with the Council remains that way." He cut the feed just as Donnel's expression changed from contempt to shock, and then the Admiral turned to his assistant. "Has Commander Shepard arrived yet?"
"Yes, sir. The Commander, Lieutenant Alenko and the asari, Dr. Liara T'Soni, are staying at a hotel in the Mugi-boshi Ward. Lieutenant Moreau appears to be staying at his mother's apartment."
"Shepard brought the Matriarch's daughter here?" Steven scratched his chin absently as his assistant nodded. T'Soni must be more important than they originally thought. Shepard wouldn't have risked a public spectacle. Alien merchants were common, but were still considered anomalies.
"How did Moreau take the news?"
"Not well, sir."
"No, I imagine he didn't."
His assistant studied the data pad that seemed to be permanently affixed to his hand. "We should leave for your luncheon with the Defense Minister, sir."
It was days like today that Admiral Hackett really missed his fighter.
Things were so much simpler then.
The woman smelled like a distillery and looked like she'd been put through hell - graying hair matted, smoky-green eyes glassy. It didn't stop Joker from making a small noise in the back of his throat and throwing his arms around her, crutches dropping to the ground.
"You still want us to stay?" Shepard asked when Joker turned around from giving his mother a hug. He rubbed at his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. The relief was evident not only on his face but his stance as well.
"Stay?" Joker's mother glared at both Shepard and Joker. "I'm not dead yet, Jeff," she said angrily and cast a suspicious glance at Liara. Shepard felt herself bristle. "And there's no way in hell I'm harboring aliens in this house. You can keep your fetishes elsewhere."
"Jeezus." Joker ducked under his Alliance-issued cap. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Mom," he mumbled.
"Hotel it is then," was all Shepard said, reminding herself that not everyone was on the front lines, not everyone interacted well with aliens. Not everyone was in ship shape. She forced a smile on her face, careful not to look past the woman to the mess of a home behind her, and held out a hand for the woman to shake. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Moreau."
"I'm sure," Joker's mother scoffed. "I'm divorced. There is no Missus Moreau." She crossed her arms leaving the Commander no choice but to retract her hand.
Joker looked mortified. "Mom," he stage whispered, "that's my commanding officer. Please, play nice."
"You sold out the human race, Commander Shepard." His mother didn't seem to know how to "play nice." She cast another glance at Liara then looked at Shepard. The Commander lifted her chin, meeting her icy green glare straight on.
"My job is to protect the sentient beings of the galaxy, ma'am," she told her with a slight smile of defiance. "Humans are included in that pool. We were worried about your safety. Glad to see you're fine."
"My ex-husband was caught in the blast," Joker's mother announced. Shepard heard Joker's quick intake of breath, saw the movement of his head from the corner of her eye, but she didn't look away from his mother.
Shepard began, "I hope –"
"Stuff your hopes, Spectre." His mother walked into the apartment and the automated door slammed down closed behind her. Shepard was certain that if the door had been an old fashioned hinged door, the door would have splintered on the hinges.
"I just love coming to Arcturus," Shepard remarked bitterly, trying and failing to keep her tone light. Her eyes shifted from one person to the other before coming to rest on Joker. His face was pale, eyes glazed in a mix of hurt, shock, and something Shepard couldn't identify. "Joker?"
Recovering slightly, his gaze met hers. "I, uh, I need to find out what happened, Commander," he said, soft-voiced as he retrieved his crutches.
Shepard nodded, activated her omni-tool and passed its contact information to Joker. "If you need anything, contact me."
He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am."
Mom's apartment was dim and depressing. Clothes, papers, moldy food, and other unidentifiable things littered the main room. It smelled of trash and musty clothing. A fine layer of dust covered the stuff that didn't get used regularly. Most of everything. Trash and empty prescription pill bottles littered the floor. Joker wasn't looking forward to the kitchen. He never looked forward to the kitchen. Or any of the rest of the place for that matter. When he lived here, his room had been the neat, cleaned and organized while his mother's room was a pigsty. He took note of the dust in the air and wondered how long it had been since she'd changed the air filter. It probably hadn't been cleaned since he'd done it on his last visit.
"Mom?" He skirted a debris-covered chair, his lip curling in distaste. A box of old donuts sat accumulating fungus on the cushion along with yet another cluster of empty prescription pill bottles.
Mom had sunk into depression after his birth and never snapped out of it. His parents had gotten a divorce when he was younger for many reasons, only one of which was his condition. Whenever he brought up the divorce between either of his parents before he'd joined the Alliance, they assured him that they loved him, but they couldn't love each other anymore. Between Mom's depression, her job and Dad's multiple jobs, it was a wonder they'd stayed together as long as they had.
Joker passed the kitchenette, eyes lingering on the empty bottles of booze in the sink and on the counter tops. "Mom?"
He found her in the head, tears staining her cheeks. It hurt to look at her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tangled hair, clammy skin and glassy eyed look. He'd worried the entire trip that the last words he'd ever said to her were uncaring, hurtful even. Joker hated coming home to her. He never made it a secret that he hated home. He'd left just as soon as he could, and worked his ass off to stay away from Home. How he hated it here.
He hated a lot of things. Hated that she had allowed herself to sink so low. Hated himself for being born with his condition and always wondering if it had been him that had set her off. Hated that it had driven Dad away. Hated that he was helpless do anything to help her. Dad had said that she'd always been this way, but the hormonal shift during her pregnancy had been too much. Dad said that it wasn't Joker's fault; they had no way to control her bipolar disorder. For all the technology they had, for all the science and pharmaceuticals, a splintered mind still had trouble healing.
Coming home was always a kick in the gut.
"I missed you, Jeff," she told him and reached out for him.
He sighed and allowed her to embrace him, the smell of alcohol on her breath and whatever new drug the doctors had given her permeating her skin. "I missed you too, Mom."
She'd gone through various stages of depression most of his life, but on good days she'd doted on him, made him feel like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He hated coming home, but he would never hate his mother. It was a relief just to know she was alive. Still not well, but alive. Alive he could deal with for now.
He swallowed, wondering if she were too medicated to tell him about the bombing. "You said Dad was caught in the blast?"
Apologies to those who received misleading statements from me; it was a last minute OMG What if...? Oh, that works so much better!
I'm not sure if it's canon or fanon that decided Joker's mom was dead. He makes a reference about zombies and his mom in ME2, but… zombie mom can be mom from hell too. Or a heavily medicated mom, like this one… (I'm… not sure which is worse.)