Joker doesn't remember crawling into the restraints.
The entrance into Alchera's atmosphere was a daze in and out of consciousness. And when he'd woken, it was to tubes down his throat (because he'd broken three ribs in a row on his left side) and Chakwas' worried face. Whatever came between the close of the pod doors and the antiseptic smell of hospital is gone for good, and Joker doesn't want to remember. If the last months could be done away as easily, he'd give them up without a second thought.
Chakwas was the only member of the Normandy crew he'd seen since. She's been reassigned though, so she's not here now.
He doesn't blame them. If Alenko or Wrex or Garrus had killed Shepard, well, he wouldn't stand with them at their trial either.
"On the count of involuntary manslaughter," the Admiral reads, "this court finds the defendant not guilty by reason of necessity." A murmur runs through the courtroom, and the judge takes a moment to regain his composure before he can continue. "Signed this day, Earth January, 2184, Arcturus Station." The Commander to the judge's left grimaces and shakes her head, clearly dismayed.
"Officer Moreau, you are hereby reinstated to active service effective upon receipt of a clean bill of health. Members of the panel, the court thanks you for your service. You are dismissed." The gavel bangs.
Joker's lawyer turns to him, grin splitting her face. Not guilty? He falls back into the courtroom chair. Not guilty.
His mom's arms find him, then Gunny's, then his dad's. He can still hear Shepard's voice. Still feel her hand on his arm. Not guilty. Gunny's sobbing.
Come on, we have to get out of here! Not guilty.
His parents and attorney walk in military formation before him as they leave the courtroom, Gunny pushing his wheelchair. It's enough to part the sea of reporters, but not to stem the tide of their questions.
"How does it feel to get away with murder?"
"Do you regret being responsible for the death of the savior of the Citadel?"
"Can you be trusted to helm another ship?"
"Why couldn't the Alliance's best frigate escape a Geth cruiser?"
"Does your disease make you a liability for high risk missions?"
First the skycab's door, and then the walls of his mom's apartment buffer the tide. Gunny turns on the vid broadcasts, but every station is showing the same thing. Him, leaving the courtroom like a cripple. The same holo of Shepard, taken just after Elysium. Pictures from orbit of the Normandy's wreckage. Angry reporters saying what everyone thinks.
Dad turns it off.
It doesn't matter. Joker agrees with the talking heads. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. He feels it stained into his skin.
Days later, Hilary asks if he's excited to fly again.
Alchera, bright and beautiful, like a globe of diamond dust. The shudder of the Normandy as gravity rends her damaged hull.
"'Course I am, Gunny."
Joker wakes up feeling like hell. Every joint from his neck to his little toe is pulsating pain. One of those days.
And fuck that, he has three more hours of scheduled sleep, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get them, not when Shepard's barred him from the cockpit, anyway.
Seven minutes later, and Joker resigns himself to the long hobble to the medbay. It's fucking ridiculous that Chakwas won't let him keep the good meds on hand. It's not like there are Alliance regs to follow, after all.
The night cycle means only a skeleton crew stands at stations, so at least he's spared the indignity of people fucking staring. It would be easier with the crutches, of course, but there's something undeniably liberating about striding forward on nothing but his own two feet. At least, there's something liberating on days when his own body's not attempting to kill him from the inside out.
The mess is empty, but light bleeds from the med bay windows. Shepard and Chakwas sit illuminated, in what Joker might mistake for a serious conversation, if Chakwas didn't choose that lurch to her feet and reveal the nearly empty glass in her hand. She screams something, the soundproofing is too good for Joker to make out what, and then collapses back to her seat giggling.
The old broad giggles, who knew?
But Shepard too looks light with laughter, eyes crinkled in the corners. The scars across her face are faint in the dim light. She's beautiful.
His body is still on fire, but Joker thinks the meds can wait. It's been a long time since he's seen the Commander happy like that.
Besides, if the Commander's drunk, that puts him in charge, and as commanding officer, his first act is to reinstate his access to the cockpit.
Hawthorne, half-asleep, doesn't question his short shift, and speeds out of the room, probably on his way to the poker game currently going on in engineering. If Joker knew about the game, he'd have to put a stop to it, and if Shepard wanted a hard-ass for a XO, she should have kept Lawson.
Joker settles in to correct Hawthorne's mistakes. The man would be a perfectly acceptable pilot if he weren't so damned lazy.
"Trimming compensators, decimal one-two."
"Lieutenant Moreau, you are not currently authorized to pilot this ship," the Thing says. "Permissions revoked at 2200 hours, continuance until 0400 hours. Please recall Officer Hawthorne."
"Give it a break, EDI. Shepard is relieved of duty until she sobers up. I'm in charge, and I'm flying my fucking ship."
"Acknowledged, Mr. Moreau." The voice sounds put out, but that's not an emotion a computer should have, so Joker chooses to ignore it. Two seconds later, the Thing returns. "The Commander has been notified of the breach in protocol, as per Cerberus directive. Officer Hawthorne has been recalled."
Jeff sighs and pings Hawthorne's omni. It's just the fucking AI, ignore recall. Massani and Jack both count cards, but you didn't hear it from me.
"Can't have a fucking silent ship like everyone else, got one that talks back."
For a long time there is no noise but the buzz of the haptics and the distant hum of the drive core. He should schedule himself some night shifts. Enjoy the peace.
"Hey, Thomas." Sex drips from Kelly's voice. "Got a spare minute, or maybe five?" She giggles, actually fucking giggles.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding! Hawthorne's sneaking off for quickies while he's flying my baby?! No, absolutely not. EDI, recall Hawthorne while I de-arm the airlocks." Fucking unacceptable. And- oh, hell- have they used his chair? Joker shudders. Not his patent leather chair.
"Elimination of coworkers is against Cerberus protocols, Mr. Moreau."
"It's a joke, Thing." Joker sighs. "Probably." Leaving the Normandy unattended in deep space to go fuck a subordinate? It's fucking ridiculous is what this is.
"Calm down." Kelly sinks into the co-pilot's seat, and doesn't she look just too comfortable there. He shudders. "We don't do anything while he's on duty. Where is Thomas, anyhow?"
"You keep yourself out of my helm when Hawthorne's up here, you understand? That's a direct order from your superior officer, Chambers."
She yawns and stretches, clearly intimidated. "Listen, I've been trying to keep your lover's quarrel with the Commander out of my reports, but if the two of you don't resolve it soon, and it keeps affecting your morale, I'm going to have to put it in."
"What?" Jeff splutters. "I'm not- she's not- Shepard's my superior officer!" Good job, Jeff, way to play it cool and throw her off the scent. Fucking Cerberus spy, having sex in his fucking chair. He jabs one of the blinking buttons hard enough to send pain burning up his finger, and he's really fucking excited to go deal with a hung-over Chakwas tomorrow.
"We're not lovers."
Kelly waves him off. "Whatever. What are the two of you fighting about, anyway?"
"We're not fighting." And could the relays to the Citadel be any more backlogged?
"Uh huh. So you did something stupid?" If Kelly had gum, Joker's pretty sure she'd be snapping it.
"No, really, please continue to distract me from flying."
"We're in queue for a relay jump," Kelly says. "So what'd you say? I'm a counselor, you know, I could help."
"What's the difference between a loan and a psychologist?" he asks.
Kelly leans her seat back, and if she knows the seats recline, Hawthorne has definitely been having sex in the cockpit (though really, what did Cerberus expect calling it a cockpit?) "Have you apologized?"
"Do I seem overflowing with the milk of human kindness? Go away."
"Wanna help me pick out lingerie? It's Thomas' birthday next week, and-"
"If you're attempting to out disgust me, I have seven zettabytes of well-worn holos willing to come to my aid."
"Fine." She pouts and rises from her seat. "Don't tell me. But apologize and make up. The ship can't handle the two of you at each other's throats." Joker thinks he's finally free of her when she stops and says, "Plus, everyone knows make-up sex is the best sex."
It takes him minutes to realize Chambers has left without any punishment for having sex in his damn chair.
"Fuck," Joker says. "EDI, send me the last week's footage from the bridge cameras."