"What do you think, Commander? Pretty nice digs, right?" Chambers has just left them alone in Shepard's quarters after completing the grand tour, and Joker's commandeered the swivel chair at her desk to spin in. Every rotation shows him the same shell-shocked expression on the Commander's face as the pass before.
It takes her a minute to respond. "I'm supposed to think the aquarium is a waste of resources, right? It's kinda nice though, I've never had a pet." She presses her palm flat against the glass, peering into the empty water. "Unless you count street rats?"
"This isn't a children's vid, Shepard. No one counts the rats."
She laughs. The sound bubbles in his blood, and Joker wonders if it will always feel like this. Like every quirk of her lips or ringing footfall, like every proof of life is a gift meant just for him. Tiny mercies he has no chance of deserving.
Joker stops the spin of his chair just long enough to return her smile. There's not much in the way of safe conversational subjects, but he figures Cerberus hate has to be on the list. "You know your room's bugged, right?"
Her nose scrunches in displeasure as she nods. "And Chambers and Lawson are both reporting my every move."
Never misses a trick, his CO.
The drawers slide open and bang shut as she inspects each one, whether she's sweeping for bugs or just inspecting the contents, Joker can't tell.
"Is it weird that they had clothes tailored for me? I mean, sure, I was naked on Lawson's operating table for the last two years, but clothing measurements could have waited until I was awake."
"Would have made the two firefights you've gotten into in the last 24 hours a sight more interesting," Joker says. "And bravo, by the way. Outpacing your own record for inciting violence and with flair."
"One of those started before I was even awake, I hardly think I can be held responsible." He hums noncommittally. "You know Tali wasn't surprised to see me alive?"
And so the safe subjects are dismissed. Well Joker's not going to tell her that he sent messages to the whole crew of the SR-1 three weeks ago when he found out she was alive. Because telling her that would mean telling her that no one had come. Telling her that would be admitting that without her to guide them, everyone had given up the Reaper fight. That it's only him and Chakwas and a whole lot of empty space where there used to be family.
"Weird," he settles on saying. It's possible, after all, that everyone has been refusing his messages. If one of them had killed Shepard, he probably wouldn't be a very good pen-pal either.
Tension stretches between them until it's obvious he's failing some sort of friend-test. And this is why he keeps to the bridge. What is he supposed to say? Little known fact, his communication incompetence is not an act.
Shepard is the one to break the growing tension. "You're going to have to translate the engine specs you were drooling over into layman."
"I figured." He smears condescension into his voice. In distraction and avoidance, he's an ace.
Shepard turns from her inspection of the closet, mock outrage in her eyes.
"Hell, Shepard, any improvements Cerberus made stopped short of removing the glaze your eyes get the moment you hear 'Tantalus core.'"
"Someone should buy you an etiquette book," Shepard says.
"Not sure the market's there for What to Say and Do When Your Commander Comes Back from the Dead," he answers.
Shepard kicks the chair's height lever in retaliation, sending him plummeting six inches. "If I'm going to have to listen to engine jargon, I'm not really sure why I keep you around."
"No one is sure why you keep me around." The damn chair won't go back up, no matter how hard he pulls. "Maybe someone should write a poem to remind us. Let's see, what rhymes with Therum?"
"Shut up," Shepard says, but she's grinning.
He stretches, trying to pull some of the stiffness from his back. Even with Cerberus' work, walking tours are still bad fucking ideas. Seeing his baby was worth it though.
There's a frown on Shepard's face. "How's your arm?" she asks.
It takes Joker a second to place the question's context, and in that time Shepard seems to realize her mistake in chronology.
She drags her fingers through her hair. "Right, so that was dumb."
"It wasn't broken," he offers.
"Good," she says. "Good." Her death stands between them, impenetrable. "Are we, are we not supposed to talk about my being dead?" At Joker's blank stare, Shepard rushes on. "Because I get that, I can totally not talk about it. It's just-"
"A fucking big thing to not talk about."
She huffs out a hard breath that might be an aborted laugh. "Yeah."
"I think since you're the one who died, you're the one who gets to decide how much it's talked about. My arm was fine, sprained for a couple of weeks, nothing bad."
The topic is uncomfortable. He killed her and they're here talking about his arm? But the tension is bleeding from her shoulders just the same.
"Sorry for the manhandling."
"I'm pretty sure when you save someone's life you don't have to apologize."
"Still," she says. "Come here." Shepard offers him a hand up, which he takes. When Joker's standing, Shepard wraps him in an embrace so tight it nearly hurts. He lets his own tentative fingers rest against her back.
They stand that way for some time. Eventually she whispers, "I'm so glad you're here."
He's pretty fucking sure that's his line, but she can have it, if she wants. "There's nowhere else I would be."
Their first stop is to the Citadel and Anderson, which surprises no one but Miranda. The XO's left gaping when they bypass Omega and the Illusive Man's directives. Her displeasure is felt if not heard.
The SR-1, born as it was of joint human and Turian interests, had received a prime docking location. The reserved bay between the Destiny Ascension and the Indomitable benefited from easy access to C-Sec and a dry/wet dock which allowed for repairs and inspection without towing.
The Normandy SR-2 is granted no such luxuries. Traffic control directs Joker to the ass end of the Zakera ward docks, and there's barely enough room to squeeze the Normandy between the ships on either side, one a decaying merchant vessel and the other a cluster of scrap metal held together with mass effect fields and a prayer. Still, it's nothing Joker can't handle, and the ship settles home perfectly.
The docking clamps, however, have seen one too many hulls, and they drag and scratch along the freshly painted surface, marring the Normandy's perfect body. Joker shudders. Maybe if he asks nicely, Shepard will pick up some touchup paint on her way back from meeting with Anderson.
The Commander's hand on his shoulder makes Joker jump.
"All good?"
His skin burns where her fingers sit. "Commander, can I get a mirror up here? You know, so I can see when someone's standing behind me?"
Shepard brushes microscopic lint from the lapel of her uniform, but while she's sporting the same black and white as the rest of the crew, the Cerberus logo is suspiciously absent. Joker would think they'd forgotten to add it if not for the line of fine stitches making a single x across her breast. "I'll look into it, Lieutenant."
The airlock hisses closed, and Joker brings up Shepard's feed. She's gone alone, no surprise as her only viable backup is a couple of Cerberus flunkies.
The video shows a city of transients living just outside the ship, a mess of alien life too unsavory or too ill to make it past C-Sec and into the wards proper. A wave of voices filter through Shepard's audio pickup, catcalls and pleas for help battering from all sides.
Then the scanner thinks Shepard's dead.
"I was listed as missing in action a few years ago," Shepard says. It's a lie. She was listed as killed in action. Because she was dead. Her empty coffin laid in state for three days while dignitaries came to play politics and grapple for power. The whole damned thing had been broadcast over the extranet. There's no way the Turian manning the scanner doesn't remember, but he lets her through anyway.
Then the human working the desk, Bailey, brings Shepard back to life with the press of a button. Seems there's no form of death which can keep her waylaid for long.
That's all Joker's able to watch, as the Presidium is one huge Faraday cage, and the comms cut out as the rapid transit car crosses the threshold.
Shepard's video returns an hour later, though she doesn't hail the ship. So it went well then. Joker lets out a disappointed sigh. He's not sure why he bothered to hold his breath. When the brass closes their eyes to something, they keep them closed.
She still hasn't said a word when the airlock finishes its decontamination process and Joker switches off the feeds.
Her presence is heavy behind him, and because he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't say anything.
"Two years." He knows, he remembers each day. "Two years and they've done nothing. Anderson wouldn't even tell me where Kaidan is."
"I'm sorry." Those idle words won't change anything, but they're enough to draw a weary smile from Shepard. She falls into the seat beside him.
"Set course for Omega."
The next time Joker sees her, Shepard's wearing a uniform with the Cerberus logo still attached.
A/N: This chapter was originally missing a scene break, sorry for any confusion. Thank you to everyone who has commented, favorited, or followed this story.