Chapter Text
It’s all fun and games … until the helmsman ends up in the medbay with a fractured toe. That’s when it becomes war.
“Sit still,” Dr. Chakwas orders firmly.
But Joker is irritated to the point of muttering beneath his breath. The words are indecipherable, even when she listens for them, and so she lets it go. He is, after all, complying with her request. When he leaves, he’s still grumbling and leaning heavily on his crutches, but he remembers to thank her in between half-vocalized threats of retaliation. It’s more than she could have hoped for, so she lets it slide, and says a quick prayer of thanks she isn’t his target.
It happens again two weeks later; this time a rib. Just a hint of a fracture, as if he moved too quickly or wasn’t prepared to dodge. If his pilot’s chair had a seatbelt, she might chalk it up to his flying. When she challenges him on the circumstances behind the injury, he gives her some vague explanation. “Pressly came up behind me when I didn’t expect him and I jumped.” She categorizes it as embarrassment and lets it slide again.
By the end of the second month, when she’s updating her records, she notices a pattern emerging. Over the eight weeks they’ve been deployed, Joker has been her patient five times, and while Vrolik’s Syndrome can account for some of that, when compared to his past medical history, it doesn’t account for the uptick in frequency. Something is afoot.
She considers bringing it to the commander’s attention; she is out the medbay and halfway to his cabin before the truth of the situation hits her. Literally.
On her way through the galley, she waves in response to Alenko’s greeting and nods over at Williams who is sitting at a table with Wrex and Liara eating. No sooner does she turn toward Shepard’s cabin when the door suddenly opens and he walks out. “Ah, commander. May I speak with you a moment?”
But Shepard is distracted; she sees that immediately. His eyes dart furtively around the mess as if he’s hunting something … or someone. “Later,” he replies then moves around her.
In the space of a heartbeat, she feels a brief yet sharp prickle against the back of her neck. It isn’t pain, exactly, but it’s noticeable. Before she can rub at the spot, Shepard’s arm raises and takes aim …
“Commander Shepard, what are you doing?”
His lips curl into a wicked grin matched only by a spark of intense mischief in his blue eyes. “Taking out my target, doctor.”
He slides around her and shoots. A soft grunt echoes through the mess followed by a familiar voice. “Dammit, Shepard! I had you in my sights! No fair using Chakwas as cover!”
She runs a hand over her face as she turns; the struggle between laughter and outrage is real. On the far side of the galley, near Alenko who focuses on his duties, she spies Joker rubbing at his shoulder. And suddenly, it all makes sense. “This is the reason behind those fractures?”
The pilot tries to avoid her gaze but is unsuccessful, and he hobbles off in the opposite direction. “I’ll just… I’ve got a ship to fly.” Soft snickers of laughter from the crew seated nearby follow him up to the CIC.
Spinning back around to Shepard, Chakwas demands, “And you, commander? Surely you have better things to do than take your frustrations out on the crew in such a manner?”
Shepard shrugs. “I think you’re putting too fine of a point on it, doctor,” he says. “And trust me, the crew enjoys it as much as I do.”
“He’s right, doc,” the krogan calls over. “Shooting the enemy is one thing, but this requires individual tactics and strategy.” His head bobs up and down sagely as he grins. “Training!” he bellows, slamming his fist onto the table so that it shakes. Williams and Liara barely lift their drinks before they spill. “And trust me, some of you pyjacks need it!”
Williams glares over at him. “That why you were taken out in the first round, Wrex?”
Wrex leans over and for a moment it looks as if they’ll butt heads, but then Wrex chuckles. “Being taken out by Shepard is an honor, don’t you forget it.”
A casual smile graces Shepard’s lips as he casually reloads his weapon with a soft foam dart. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Emitting an unprofessional and unladylike grumble, the doctor turns back toward the medbay. “Just don’t come to me when you need patching up!”