Work Text:
All his bones were intact, for once, yet he felt like he should be crawling through that door.
The voices were muffled, barely audible, but he knew she was in there. He knew the moment he got a ping from Miranda asking him to report to the comms room. He’d been waiting for it, preparing – or trying to. There was no preparing to face the woman you killed. Project Lazarus was a pipe dream, and he’d thought about what he would do if they failed, but never about what would happen if they succeeded. She would be here, and that was that. It was enough. She probably would never want to see him again, a walking (barely), talking (too much) reminder of the worst and last day of her old life. But the Illusive Man had insisted he pilot the new ship, and Joker told himself he accepted because he wanted another chance at keeping her safe, at doing his job properly. Not because he felt sick at the idea of someone else being in that cockpit with her and her silly planet socks and complete inability to sit like a normal person.
The door opened. A flickering holo of the Illusive Man said something about finding a pilot before cutting out, leaving the room empty and silent. A million things went through his head. Every line he’d rehearsed, every shard of emotion currently tearing through his vital organs. Instead, he said ‘Hey Commander. Just like old times, huh?’
Which had never, not once, been a line he’d considered. Because it was stupid, and callous, and way too casual for a reunion with your dead commander and possibly best friend in the entire galaxy. Shit.
She went still. She went still, and he thought this is it, she's going to punch me, or walk away, or worse, look at me with all the disappointment of someone who died because I was an idiot, or –
She turned around, flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. Her body was tense, restrained, and it took him a second to realise she was trying very hard not to hurt him. He brought his arms up to her waist and drew her closer, as if to say, ‘I'm okay. You won't break me. Not the way you think.’
‘Joker.’
He wouldn't have heard it if her mouth hadn't been right by his ear, the word a breath making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt unsteady, unmoored, and all he could think was ‘don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.’ She was really here. Not some bad copy stitched together by mad scientists. It was her, no doubt about it. Same smell, same voice, same way of moving – in fits and jerks, like she might stall if she stopped. She took a step back to look at him, and he fought the urge to pull her right back in.
‘You look different.’
He tried not to squirm under her gaze. Shepard almost never made direct eye contact, but she had a way of reading people through every other feature. The way they stood, the lines on their faces, tiny changes in their expressions...
‘Well, it has been two years. Some people age, Shepard.’ He grimaced. ‘You look the same. Except for –’
His hand came up to her face before he could think twice. She had never been a tactile person, never one to wrap an arm around a friend’s shoulder or lean against a teammate after a tough battle. But she’d hugged him before, and she wasn’t flinching now. His thumb traced the network of glowing scars on her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered closed for a second.
‘I can feel them. Not quite burning but...warm. Pulsing. It’s weird.’
Joker hummed. ‘I bet.’
‘How do they look?’
‘Pretty badass.’ He forced himself to take another step back, made a show of surveying her. ‘Like you should have superpowers or something.’
‘Still not a biotic.’ She paused, ‘I don’t think. Maybe I can read minds.’
God, I hope not.
‘How are you feeling? Really?’
She stared at her own hand, flexing her fingers tentatively. ‘Honestly?’
‘I asked, didn’t I?’ Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
‘I have no idea. I haven’t had time to think about it, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.’
The guilt hit him like a gut punch. This was nothing new. Gut punches were a daily occurrence these days. ‘I’ll be there when you figure it out. You know me, always ready to dole out useless advice. Now come on,’ he nodded towards the door, ‘there’s something I gotta show you.’
She followed him without question, the way he’d always followed her. ‘I still can’t believe it’s really you.’
‘Look who’s talking, I saw you get spaced.’
His ship under fire. The panic in his guts. Shepard, out of nowhere, pleading with him to go. She wouldn’t leave without him. It made the choice so simple. But he’d made it too late. The pain when he hit the ground in the escape pod. The violence of the explosion. Confusion. Fear. Shepard losing her grip, floating away into the darkness of space, still reaching for him as she gasped for air. For a moment, the memory took over. Then her voice broke through, and the present came rushing back. ‘How’d you get here?’
He gave her the edited version. The team broken up, getting grounded, joining Cerberus because they could offer him something the Alliance couldn’t. Technically, that was all true. He didn’t say he’d refused them three times when their offer only mentioned flying. ‘And there’s this. They only told me about it last night.’ He paused at the hangar window and let her take in the view, watching for her reaction. Would she be glad to have a semblance of her old life back? Or would she see it as it was, a poor copy of something that was gone because of him?
She tilted her head and looked at him with the ghost of a smile. ‘I guess we’ll have to give her a name.’
We. He couldn’t repress a laugh. ‘I know you, Shepard. When you care about something, there’s no way you’re letting it go.’