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The Normandy was quiet.
Not the uneasy kind of quiet that came after a battle, when the ship was still carrying the weight of everything it had survived. Not the tense silence before a mission, when everyone moved a little faster and spoke a little less because they knew what waited ahead.
This was the rare kind The peaceful kind. The kind that only existed when the crew was asleep and the ship was allowed to simply be a ship.
The stars stretched out beyond the view ports of the helm in every direction, scattered across the void like someone had taken a handful of light and thrown it across a black canvas.
He liked this part.
The middle of nowhere.
No admirals demanding status reports. No officers hovering over his shoulder. No one telling him how to fly a ship he knew better than anyone alive. Just him, the Normandy, and a billion stars that didn’t care about politics, Spectres, Geth, or whatever disaster the galaxy had decided to throw at them next.
For a few minutes it felt like the galaxy was quiet. Which meant Joker could finally relax.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand resting comfortably against the controls as the Normandy cruised forward. The faint glow of the cockpit displays reflected across the glass in front of him.
"Not bad, Moreau." Instead of speaking it aloud, a slow tune followed after softly under his breath. It came unhurried and was something old enough that he couldn’t quite remember where he’d picked it up, but familiar enough that it fit the rhythm of the ship.
A small grin tugged at his mouth as he settled into the familiar cadence of the graveyard shift, because that was the thing about flying alone. There was no one to judge him for letting a quiet melody drift through the cockpit, no one to give him strange looks when he filled the silence with something other than static and engine hum, no one to remind him that normal people apparently didn’t accompany deep space navigation with half remembered tunes.
Out here, in the quiet stretch of space between stars, even that didn’t feel strange anymore; the Normandy didn’t mind, she never did, or at least, he liked to think she understood.
The soft slid of one of the CIC doors interrupted his thoughts.
Joker turned his chair a fraction. For a moment, he expected one of the night crew. Maybe someone coming up to check something. Maybe a technician who forgot something in CIC.
He wasn’t expecting the Commander. Shepard stepped onto the CIC not wearing armor or her BDU's. Just a set of well worn Alliance PT clothes, not looking like the Commander at all....just Shepard, a tired woman....strangely human. Her casual appearance caught him off guard enough that he actually turned fully in his chair.
She gave him a small nod as she walked towards the helm "Joker."
He waited, expecting the usual reason Shepard ever came to the cockpit, an order, a mission update, a question, something. Instead she said nothing at all, simply walking over to stand beside his chair and look out at the stars. After a moment Joker turned his seat slightly back around, watching her quietly from the corner of his vision.
It was strange.
He'd flown with officers before. Plenty of them. People who treated the cockpit like another place where they could exercise authority, people who reminded him every chance they got that they were in charge.
Shepard had never seemed particularly interested in doing that.
She could be intimidating when she needed to be. He'd seen entire rooms fall silent the moment she spoke. Plus now she was a Spectre, the first human Spectre, the Captain of the Normandy, a woman carrying more responsibility on her shoulders than most people would ever know in a lifetime.
Yet here she was, standing quietly in his cockpit in the middle of the night, asking for nothing. Just watching the stars.
Joker looked back toward the controls. "Couldn't sleep?"
Shepard glanced over. "Something like that."
He nodded knowingly. "Yeah, ship does that sometimes."
"The ship?"
"Sure." He gestured vaguely around them. "Big metal box flying through space. Lot of room for thoughts to get loud."
That earned him a quiet laugh. Not the polite kind, not the forced kind officers sometimes gave when they thought they were supposed to, but something real. Joker quickly turned his attention back to the stars before she could catch the small, unguarded smile that had already started to form.
For a little while, neither of them said anything.
Shepard remained beside him, her hands resting loosely clasped behind her back as she watched the stars slide past. Joker let the silence sit.
Normally, he'd have said something by now. A joke, probably. Some pointless observation just to keep the conversation moving. But Shepard didn't seem bothered by the quiet, and for some reason, neither was he. So he left it alone.
Eventually, she glanced toward the empty seat off to the side. "Mind if I sit?"
Joker looked over at the copilot’s chair, empty all night, and lifted one shoulder. "Be my guest, Commander. Just don't touch anything expensive."
Shepard gave him a look. "Everything in here is expensive."
"Exactly." Joker turned back toward the controls, though for some reason the cockpit felt different with her there, not crowded, not awkward.
She settled into the chair, adjusting it slightly before resting her hands into her lap and leaned back into the chair. "You always fly at night?"
"When everyone else is asleep?" Joker asked.
She nodded.
"Whenever I can."
"Why?"
He thought about it. "Well someone has to fly the ship."
She gave him a flat look.
He grinned. "Okay. There's less traffic out here at night."
She rolled her eyes and Joker settled his hands against the controls again. The Normandy continued her steady course.
Shepard glanced at the navigation display. "How long until the relay?"
"Couple hours."
"That's it?"
"Unless you want to take the scenic route."
She looked toward him incredulously. "There's a scenic route?"
"Commander, we're in space. Everything's scenic."
That got another quiet laugh, and Joker found himself smiling to himself again as he began to notice that she laughed more often than he’d expected. Not constantly, Shepard wasn’t the type to giggle at everything like some high school girl, but she had a dry, unexpectedly sharp sense of humor that only surfaced in moments like this. It was usually buried beneath the Commander Shepard everyone else got.
He'd known her for what? A few weeks. Maybe a month or two. Long enough to understand the basics, she was a good soldier and an even better leader. Someone who listened to her crew, trusted them to do their jobs. She didn’t throw her rank around unless she had a reason to, and apparently when she wasn’t busy saving the day, she was also surprisingly easy to talk to.
Joker glanced sideways and Shepard was still looking through the view port. "Something on your mind?"
She give the smallest shake of her head. "Not really."
"That's a dangerous answer."
She smiled, "I was just thinking."
"Also dangerous."
She turned her head toward him. "You always like this?"
"Like what?"
"Always have something to say."
Joker considered it. "Pretty much."
"Must be exhausting."
"Only for everyone else."
She laughed again, and this time she didn’t look away afterward, nor did he. For a brief, unguarded moment they simply held each other’s gaze before Shepard turned back toward the stars and Joker followed suit. Both of them letting the moment pass without comment, as if it had meant nothing at all. The silence returned, but it had changed somehow...or maybe he had. He wasn't too sure.
After another minute, Shepard spoke. "Do you ever get tired of it?"
"Flying?"
"Space."
Joker studied the view for a minute thinking. Watching the stars stretched endlessly ahead of them. "No." The answer came easily. "No. Not really."
She nodded, as though she'd expected that. "I think I'd miss it."
"You would."
She looked at him. "You sound very sure."
"I'm a professional."
"Ah, of course."
He caught the amusement mixed with a ting of sarcasm in her voice. He smiled and added. "You get used to it."
Shepard turned her attention back toward the stars. "To the quiet?"
"Yeah. Sometimes the quiet's the best part."
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she leaned back deeper into the copilot's seat. "Yeah." She said eventually.
Joker looked over at her again, and there was something oddly peaceful about seeing her there. The Commander, the Spectre, the woman who could walk into a room full of people twice her rank and somehow make them listen. Yet sitting beside him she looked almost ordinary, with tired eyes, loose hair, and a faint crease between her brows that hadn’t quite disappeared even as she relaxed...just Shepard.
He turned back toward the stars when he caught himself staring. "So..." He said, deliberately casual, "You come up here often?"
Shepard slowly turned her head. "Are you flirting with me, Joker?"
He nearly choked on a laugh. "What? No."
"Sounded like it."
"Commander, I'm offended."
"Mmhm."
"I'm wounded."
"Are you now?"
"I am!"
She laughed and Joker found himself laughing right along with her too.
The conversation drifted casually from there without any real destination, Just one topic flowing naturally into the next, a story from shore leave, a complaint about Alliance rations, and a ridiculous maintenance request Joker had once received from an officer who apparently believed pilots were also miracle workers. While Shepard shared a story about a planet she’d once visited where the local wildlife had apparently decided humans were excellent targets for entertainment. That story earning a laugh from Joker so strong he had to look away from her for a moment. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"How are you alive?"
"I run very fast."
"I thought N7 were supposed to have training."
"We do."
"Didn't help?"
"Not that time."
He laughed again, a hand going to his side as his ribs began to ache. Somewhere along the way Joker stopped paying attention to how long she had been sitting there, stopped thinking about the fact that she was his commanding officer, and eventually stopped thinking about anything at all, really.
Eventually, Shepard glanced toward the time display. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Oh."
Joker looked over. "What?"
"Later than I thought."
He followed her gaze toward the clock and his eyebrows rose. "Well, damn."
She smiled faintly and pushed herself out of the copilot's seat. "I should probably let you get back to flying, well be hitting that relay soon."
Joker gave her a sideways look. "You've been an excellent distraction."
"Good to know." She stepped away from the helm. Joker turned his chair and watched her start to walk out of the helm. She'd only made it a few steps when she paused and turned around.
For a second, neither of them said anything, and then she smiled. It wasn't the small, amused smile she had given him throughout the night, but something softer, unhurried, almost grateful. "Good night, Joker."
He smiled back before he could think better of it. "Good night, Shepard."
She gave him a small nod, then turned and continued into the CIC, and Joker found himself watching her go a moment longer than he meant to.
Joker turned back toward the controls. He should have been relieved to have the cockpit to himself again. Instead, he found himself glancing sideways at the empty copilots chair. He stared at it for a second longer than he meant to. It wasn't that he minded being alone. He'd spent years perfectly content with his own company. He'd just...liked having her there. That was all. At least, he thought it was.
Joker shook his head faintly and turned back toward the stars.
The cockpit seemed to settle back into its usual shape around him, the soft glow of the displays, the stars beyond, the familiar hum beneath his hands. Everything was exactly where it had been before she'd arrived.
Joker glanced once more at the empty copilot's chair.
The Normandy continued along her course, smooth and steady beneath his hands.
Joker leaned back into his chair, letting himself sink into the steady hum of the engines as he simply listened for a few seconds. Then almost without thinking that same half remembered tune from earlier slipped quietly beneath his breath.