#m!shepard

With a shiver, Joker pushed the thoughts away. There was no need to imagine the horrors when the Normandy’s crew saw enough of them on a daily basis. No, shore leave on the Citadel in the middle of a war was exactly where they needed to be. Or at least, Admiral Steven Hackett thought so. Because what better use of his and Shepard’s time than to drink themselves into a stupor while people were slaughtered.

“Fucking brass.” Joker muttered, staring down the neck of the bottle in his hand, the buzz from the alcohol doing its duty and loosening his muscles in a dangerous way. If he tried to stand, he’d probably fall and break something, Cerberus boneweave be damned. He wondered how long he could get away with this, drinking until he couldn’t feel anything, until the images of Thessia faded to fuzzy shapes with little meaning, until he couldn’t think anymore.

With a sigh, he rested his head on his folded arms, realizing it wasn’t in his best interest, or anyone’s, if he ended up hurting himself. The Normandy needed her pilot, especially with the odds stacked against them. He had the Illusive Man’s plans to fuck up and some Reapers to destroy. Couldn’t do that with a whole lot of broken bones.

It took him longer than it should have to see a figure move in the dull grey shadows, the hulking mass of Commander Shepard, a man too young to be as battle worn as he was, and yet too old still. But he wasn’t the only one not paying attention. Shepard hadn’t noticed him either, too preoccupied with the flashing neon lights of the Silversun strip shining in through the windows. No one had thought to close the shutters before passing out wherever they’d ended up and now the lights painted the inside of the apartment in their gaudy colors: pink, blue, green, purple. Joker swore there was some yellow in there somewhere but the brightness left him with a headache pounding in his temple.

“Why did Anderson have to live in the brightest part of the Citadel?” He muttered without thinking, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, wishing he was back on the Normandy with its controlled lighting. At least there he’d get something close to what he could call sleep. 

John glanced at him, raising his eyebrows as if the sight of Joker sitting there in the dark, alone, with nothing but himself and a lukewarm beer for company was a surprise after everything they’d been through together. “I figured you’d be asleep by now.” Shepard walked closer, his steps quiet for a man with his build. “Something keeping you up?”

“Yeah, everything.” Joker responded, a snort following before he could stop it. Shepard’s expression softened at the sound and a lump formed in Joker’s throat, nearly choking him as he sat there. “You know, the impending end of the galaxy and all.”

Grabbing a beer from the mini fridge behind the bar, Shepard leaned against the counter, eyes fixated on the flashing lights, a faraway look on his face. Joker could almost imagine what it was he saw in his mind, too many horrors seen and survived, too many people lost. Too much regret. A tale as old as time.

And one he knew well.

“My sister… she’s only 15, still a kid so maybe… maybe she made it out.”

He remembered saying the words with the hope that if he put it out into the galaxy, the galaxy would answer back… maybe give him the only thing he wanted in years. His kid sister, stuck on Tiptree and the Reaper forces closing in while he was on the Citadel, safer than most people in this war.

Can’t ever do anything right. I can’t even protect my own family, how am I supposed to keep Commander fucking Shepard alive long enough to win this war?

The two of them sat together in the silence as it stretched uncomfortably between them, Joker sipping on a warm drink, cringing each time the sour liquid touched his tongue, and Shepard with the beer in his hand untouched, spinning its cap between the fingers of his opposite hand. Nothing but a blank stare in those sky blue eyes, jaw clenched and expression hard as Shepard stayed lost in his head. At first, Joker didn’t think he was going to speak again. The neon lights of the Silversun Strip cast strange shadows across his face, hardening even the softest parts of his face. Then, after another heartbeat, a sigh slipped past his lips as he turned, eyes searching for Joker’s face.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother to try. To fight. Again and again, I fail.” Shepard swallowed with some difficulty before lifting the beer to his lips, drinking deeply of the alcohol. When finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a wry smile on his face, almost like it pained him to say his next words aloud. “Maybe the galaxy would’ve been better off-”

“Hey.” Joker reached out, grabbing Shepard’s hand before he could go down that spiral. Shepard met his gaze warily, looking like a criminal ready to flee at the first sight of C-Sec. It took everything in Joker not to tease him, considering they’d both been criminals not long ago, working with a terrorist organization and all. “None of this is your fault.”

“You can’t believe that.” Shepard muttered, letting Joker take the beer from his grip and set it on the counter. “So many people are dead because I wasn’t fast enough, because I let Cerberus get the better of me more than once. The fucking Illusive Man-”

“Is to blame for the shit he did.” Joker’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and brush against Shepard’s hand once again. A strange desire, for sure, and not one he ever recalled wanting before. The Reapers had changed everything. For better or worse. “You can stop blaming yourself now.”

Shepard’s eyes stared at him through the dimness, trying to read something in Joker’s face, perhaps seeing if he meant the words he spoke. Joker refused to drop his gaze, refused to let Shepard try to weasel his way out of this. Because Joker didn’t lie, not about things like this. And yeah, John Shepard was a hard ass at times, refusing to let his squad be less than they were, but there was also a softness in him. Joker could see it in his eyes, the blue as bright as the mass effect fields surrounding the core at the center of the Normandy. 

“Is that an order, Flight Lieutenant?” 

Teasing. At least he was capable of that much. It was better than moping in a corner with a never ending supply of alcohol. With a grin, Joker took a sip of the beer he’d stolen, cheeks heating as Shepard watched his mouth with interest. The alcohol was still cold as it traveled down his throat, easing some of the nervousness in his gut. Releasing a satisfied sound, Joker pushed the beer back in Shepard’s direction. 

“As if you’d actually listen.” He quipped back, enjoying the slight widening of John’s eyes. Joker didn’t think Shepard was capable of being surprised by any of the words that left his mouth. He was glad to be wrong for once in his life. “Besides, I have Wrex and Garrus if I need you to actually follow orders.”

Shepard chuckled, a quiet sound that left Joker’s heart thumping strangely loud in his ears. “Is that a threat, Joker?”

“A promise, Shepard.” Joker tried to hide his smile as he drank the beer again, liking how John’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Or how his eyes sparkled in amusement whenever Joker threw a joke or thinly veiled insult in his direction. Or how his mouth curved whenever he looked in Joker’s direction, as if the pilot’s very presence made him feel safe, happy. Clearing his throat, Joker shifted on the stool, finding himself suddenly lightheaded at the attention. “So, what’s got you up?”

Besides the nightmares.

Shepard glanced down at the bottle cap between his fingers, studying it as if it held the answer to Joker’s question. He breathed deeply, letting it out in a rush, closing his eyes and curling his fist around the cap. “Joker, what is it you want most in the galaxy?”

What was happening?

“Me?” Condensation rolled down the side of the beer, a drop settling on his hand, wet and irritating and he wondered if Shepard was starting to lose it under the pressure of everything. “What does what I want matter? You’re the one saving the galaxy.”

Shepard slid onto the stool beside him, grabbing the beer back, their fingers brushing briefly before he lifted the bottle to his mouth, polishing off the rest of the drink without hesitation. Setting the bottle back down, Shepard eyed the label, clearly attempting to form a response. “Joker, I heard about your sister.”

The pilot felt like he was in the path of a bullet, the pain exploding across his chest so visceral, so real, he didn’t think he’d survive whatever came out of the Commander’s mouth next. “Don’t-”

“I haven’t heard from my mother.” Shepard pressed on, not even looking at him as he spoke, and Joker didn’t know if that was worse, to not be acknowledged as his greatest fear was pulled into the light. “She’s been MIA for most of this war. Hackett doesn’t have answers, no one does, and I’m not an idiot. I know what it means. By the end of this, I won’t be the only one who has lost a parent, a friend. Others are losing children, siblings, partners and I…” He paused, closing his eyes, seeing the haunting losses in the darkest parts of his thoughts. Joker could see the shake of his hand as he clutched the bottle, trying to find the strength to continue. “I’ve been luckier than most. I fucking died and came back. No one else can say that.”

Joker couldn’t imagine feeling worse than this, knowing the man he’d followed into hell and back, the man he respected more than any else in the Alliance, hell, in the entire galaxy, was struggling after everything he’d accomplished. It broke him, knowing John Shepard blamed himself for the failings of entire governments, groups of people who refused to heed his warnings. 

“Shepard-”

With a sniff, John met his gaze, blue eyes holding back tears while the rest of his face was set in stone. “Why didn’t you tell me about Hilary?”

Joker felt his neck heat, embarrassment warring with anger at the question. “Why didn’t I tell you? Why the fuck do you think? It’s my problem, not yours. You’ve got a galaxy of problems on your shoulders, Shepard. How could I ask you to think about one more thing?”

Shepard shook his head, flinging the bottle cap into the garbage behind the bar, hitting the side with a clink before it disappeared. “You honestly think I would let you deal with this alone, Jeff? After everything we’ve been through. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t try to help you?”

I didn’t want help, he thought, trying to keep his expression neutral, but knowing he failed by the frown on Shepard’s face. So instead, Joker tried to push the stool away from the counter, his legs feeling like jelly as he stood, the alcohol and emotional toll hitting him all at once. It was too much, all of it. Hilary and Shepard and the war… he wanted to be back out there, ending Cerberus, ending the Reapers. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep again, not until the war was over.

And even then, he’d probably never sleep again, not with the images that haunted him.

Joker nearly lost his balance as he went to take a step, his loosened limbs not coordinating with his feet or his brain, and he reached out to grab the bartop, only to find Shepard’s arm around him, holding him tight against his body. Shepard was warm, the heat of his skin penetrating every layer of clothing he wore (and that Joker wore as well) like he was an oven left open. Joker swallowed nervously, the sudden closeness of his superior officer unexpected and yet, somehow not unwelcome despite their conversation. Because no matter what Joker was feeling about Tiptree, about his family, he couldn’t deny the desire he felt for comfort in the midst of the awful things happening.

No matter what unaffected image he put up in front of the rest of the crew, John always beat it down with his bare hands.

“Jeff, I’m here if you need to talk.” Shepard’s hands were on his waist, strong and sure, and Joker wanted to get lost in the moment, to forget every fucked up thing that kept him up at night, but he couldn’t. Because in the end, it wasn’t fair to Hilary, and it wasn’t fair to Shepard.

With shaking hands, he pushed against Shepard’s chest until the man let him go, stumbling slightly back to give him more space. “I don’t need to talk. I need-”

To leave.

He didn’t have anywhere to go but back to the ship. And in Joker’s current inebriated condition, it was more of a risk than a benefit, but he couldn’t deal with these feelings in his chest, in his gut. The lightheaded, dizziness of Shepard’s closeness mixing with the nauseating reminder of his sister’s danger left him on the verge of a mental breakdown.

EDI.

She’d get him back without incident. If he could find her.

Without a single glance or excuse, Joker used whatever strength he had left to shuffle out of the room, the weight of his friend’s gaze heavy on his retreating figure. Shepard didn’t attempt to stop him, and he refused to look back, knowing he’d fold the moment he saw John’s eyes.

~~~

The next week passed in a blur of dodging the Reapers while trying to find some last minute help in the war. Missions were completed, reunions with friends outnumbered the ones they lost to the fight, but still Shepard kept to his quarters, and Joker hadn’t spoken to him once in that entire time. The orders came down from EDI even if he was on the same deck, and it finally dawned on him that Shepard was avoiding him.

And it was Joker’s fault. 

He’d shut Shepard down so completely that it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it was because for as long as he’d known the Commander, John Shepard never backed down. Never let a friend suffer alone, refused to let pain fester until it infected someone.

For some reason, this was different.

With a sigh, he pulled his cap down, trying to find a comfortable position in his seat, a quick nap on his mind but knowing the numbers spinning in his head weren’t going to let him rest well. Fucking Reapers and fucking statistics.

“Jeff, Aralakh Company requests permission to dock.” EDI said, and it took Joker another few seconds to realize it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. Shepard was on Horizon, a mission to figure out what the fuck Miranda’s bastard father was up to, and he’d left the Normandy in his and EDI’s capable hands. Not that they were doing much but floating in orbit waiting for the shuttle to return from the colony.

He blinked and glanced to his right, the robot body sitting there as Kaidan used to, what felt like a lifetime ago. Joker stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying. “Aralakh Company?”

“Yes.” She paused, the words spinning in his head, not making a lick of sense. “They have colony survivors to offload.”

“Colony survivors?” What the hell was going on? “I thought Aralakh Company was going to Palaven.”

EDI glanced at him, and he swore she was judging him with those weird robot eyes. “Shepard diverted them when a Reaper descended on a colony nearby. Grunt and the other krogan saved many lives.”

Shit.

“What… what colony was it?”

EDI hesitated briefly before the words “I do not know” followed, but she didn’t even need to have the details. He knew before the door to the airlock opened, before the shuttle pilot docked, before Grunt shuffled onto the ship, once home again aboard the Normandy. He knew where those survivors were from because it was Shepard. Shepard had made a call and there was nothing Jeff had done in his entire existence to deserve this.

Joker wasn’t the type of guy who usually believed in the goodness of strangers. Majority of the people he’d met in his short life had disproved that idea, the cruelty of humans reminding him that most people were pieces of shit and only cared about themselves. But Shepard had always been different. Even after his own personal bullshit, there was kindness in his heart, a desire to help others no matter the cost to himself.

Sometimes, it pissed Joker off, to see Shepard wear himself so thin but then he did things like this-

The sound of the docking clamps brought him out of his thoughts and he glanced at EDI, realizing his hands were shaking where they hung in the air. Clearing his throat, he dropped them to his lap, trying to ignore how his heart hammered in his chest or how blood pounded in his ears. If he tried to stand, he was positive he’d hit the deck once the adrenaline wore off.

“The shuttle has docked, Jeff.”

Could he move? He didn’t know if he could, or if he even wanted to. What if the hope he felt turned into his greatest fears? What if she wasn’t on the shuttle? What if she was already dead? Was not knowing worse than the confirmation? Would he be able to continue on if his sister was truly dead?

He felt hands were wrapped around his throat, cutting off his airway, and he was unable to speak, his eyes staring at the consoles in front of him, his fingers itching to curl into his legs, for the nails to dig into his skin, pain more real than whatever the hell he was feeling then. Because anything would be better than the hope curling in his chest.

Hope was dangerous, and if Hilary didn’t get off the shuttle, he might lose himself completely.

A hiss came from the airlock, the shuttle’s pressure balancing to the Normandy’s, and when Joker turned his seat to face the door, he noticed Dr. Chakwas had arrived with a medical kit in her hands. To check the survivors, of course, but she met his eyes with a hopeful expression that only crushed his heart in a vise-like grip. These people he’d served with for years, people who knew him as well as he knew himself, were going to see what broke the sarcastic wall he’d built around himself.

The moment the airlock door opened, the bright light within spilling into the Normandy, Joker held his breath, his head dizzy, his heart ready to jump out of his chest. Grunt was through the door first, pulling Chakwas into a not entirely unwelcome hug, a deep chortle leaving him as one eye glanced in Joker’s direction, a grin pulling at whatever counted as lips on a krogan, teeth gleaming.

“Aralakh Company has come bearing gifts.”

A girl followed a moment later, unable to walk without help from an asari, and they paused near where Chakwas waited, the doc pulling out her scanner, immediately getting to work. But Joker’s gaze was focused on the girl, her red hair bright against the dark interior of the ship, freckles dotting pale cheeks covered in blood and grime. Her clothing was dirty, torn, and it was obviously her leg was busted. And yet, he didn’t care when those familiar pair of green eyes found him, widening in shock, tears leaving streaks on dirty cheeks.

He’d recognize Hilary anywhere, in any condition, and something in him broke, like a dam wall bursting under a heavy flood. Tears blinded him, but he managed to get to his feet, every part of his body shaking in shock, making it difficult to even take a step forward.

She tried to move to him, but the asari’s arm tightened around her waist, keeping her still and while anger flared in his gut, his big brother protectiveness wanting to hold his sister in her fear, he knew it was best for her not to injure herself more. So instead, he approached her, trying to hold it together long enough until his hand close around her shoulder. She whispered his name before her entire body weight crashed into him, and the two of them fell into a heap on the ground, holding one another while mourning the lost of their father, their home, their entire life.

Joker was going to hurt when he finally managed to get off of the floor, but he didn’t care, not when the only thing he had left in the galaxy was here, safe and alive.

~~~

John Shepard returned about six hours later, his armor plating scorched and his face weary. He practically stumbled into his cabin, most likely ready for a long hot shower followed by a restless night of sleep. But when he passed through the door into the dimly lit cabin, he paused, surprised by the sight of Joker sitting in the chair at his desk. 

“Joker?” His voice was soft, and at first, he stared at the pilot in confusion. “How did you get in here?”

“EDI.” It was the only explanation needed for him apparently since, instead of replying, Shepard pulled off the chestplate of his armor before setting it beside the bathroom door. Joker eyed the gash on the front of it and had to suppress a shiver. He didn’t want to know what sort of Reaper creature managed that. “You look rough.”

“Horizon was a lot of things. Rough was one of them.” With a tired sigh, Shepard leaned against the wall as he unbuckled his greaves and the other parts of his armor, abandoning each section in a pile near the chestplate until he was only left in the bodysuit the soldiers wore underneath, each contour of his body highlighted by the skin tight fabric. Fatigue had settled in and Shepard slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him. 

Joker swallowed nervously, averting his gaze to stare at the picture on Shepard’s desk. An older picture of Shepard with a woman he assumed was his mother. Kid John Shepard was adorable, all gangly limbs and uneven hair. A lot had changed from whenever the picture had been taken, but those piercing blue eyes were still the same. They spoke of an intelligent and tenacious man who was willing to do anything for the people he cared about.

One who would fight to whatever bloody end was waiting.

“Shepard.” 

Those eyes found him in the darkness and it took everything in Joker not to melt on the spot. “What is it, Joker?”

He pushed through the fear and the doubt to get to the core of what he felt: gratitude. Gratitude for his sister’s life, for everything Shepard no doubt risked to bring her here safely, but also, gratitude for Shepard returning as well. A bit worn down, sure, but he was alive. Each time his Commander went into a mission, there was the body gripping terror that he’d never see him again. Yet here he was, still breathing, still real. 

“I know you saw Grunt in the mess. Or in the CIC. Or wherever he got to since I last saw him.” Shepard’s eyes dropped to where his hands sat in his lap. Avoiding Joker’s gaze. “Why did you do it? There is so much at risk with the Reapers dogging our every step, and yet, you sent one of the pieces on the board to a backwater colony with no resources or advantages. Why?”

Shepard continued to stare into the space in front of him, the only sound breaking the silence the air circulator as it pushed cool air into the cabin. Joker didn’t think he was going to respond, the familiar blank expression on his face creating a pit to open up in Joker’s stomach. Then a sigh slipped out and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as if the entire conversation was exhausting.

“I did it for you, Jeff.”

Joker froze, panic clawing across his chest, mind spinning with the realization that Shepard actually risked everything for him. How many people could’ve been saved on Palaven if Aralakh Company had left the small group of humans and asari commandos to die on Tiptree? How many soldiers were buried beneath rubble because Shepard abused his military power to save civilians? 

To save Joker’s sister?

“If you divert forces to save every single person important to your crew, to save civilians instead of getting troops to where they’re needed, we lose this war.” 

Shepard’s bleeding heart was going to be the end of the galaxy. Dammit, what was it going to take for him to realize there wasn’t going to be anything left if they kept losing planets?

“Joker-”

“I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me. I am. But you can’t decide who is more important when there are so many people out there dying or getting indoctrinated.” Joker ran a hand over his face, trying to force himself to keep calm even if the situation called for the opposite. Because he didn’t hate Shepard making this choice, even if he regretted the deaths of those it certainly caused, because Hilary was alive. She was safe. And Shepard made the call to make it true. But the regret was there… knowing other families wouldn’t have this because Joker got to. “I know how the calculus of war works. Garrus talks about it whenever he comes to the helm. The loss-”

“Was worth it.” Shepard snapped, cutting him off before he could continue. When Joker glanced up, John Shepard’s bright gaze was on him. The hard set of his jaw told him not to argue. He wouldn’t win no matter how much he tried. “I know you don’t understand the reasoning behind my decisions, but I do have them. I don’t make these choices lightly.” He shifted to bend his legs, leaning against them with his hands dangling between his knees, his gaze laser focused on where Joker sat. “If we leave the innocent behind, no matter who they are, what are we even fighting for?”

Silence stretched between them, the air thick when Joker pulled in a new breath. There was some truth in Shepard’s words, but he still couldn’t help feeling as if something was being left unsaid. All of this was his fault, in some way, because how could it not be? 

John released a pained breath as he stood, ignoring the armor before approaching the chair where Joker sat, the exhaustion creating permanent dark circles in his pale skin. No amount of wins made the war easier because each time they took one step forward, the Reapers took another planet, destroyed another fleet, another friend lost their own battle.

No wonder Shepard felt so defeated.

Shepard paused directly in front of him, gaze burning into his, jaw clenched as if he was internally fighting with himself, but after a tense heartbeat, his posture deflated, as if the fight was extinguished completely. “You can stop feeling guilty for being happy, Joker. You deserve to find peace, even if it’s only for a brief second before we’re plunged back into hell.”

He moved as if to continue down the staircase to where his bed waited when Joker reached out, wrapping his fingers around Shepard’s hand, stopping him in his tracks. Shepard didn’t look at him, only closed his eyes, the tips of his fingers brushing the inside of Joker’s wrist. The touch was like electricity along Joker’s skin and he forced himself to focus, to not pull away even though warning bells were going off in his brain. Shepard deserved to feel like more than a robot meant to save people, to have the answers to the Reaper problem.

Because no matter what he claimed, John Shepard was human, more human than anyone he’d ever known.

“Shepard, wait. I…” 

Joker found it more difficult to stand without the help of both of his arms, but he refused to release Shepard if it meant he was going to lose the chance to talk to him. Sensing his struggle, Shepard leaned down to wrap an arm around him, helping him to his feet before abruptly letting go and stepping back. Joker tightened his grip on Shepard’s hand anyway.

His commander glanced at him with uncertainty.

“Thank you.”

For Hilary. For everything.

His tongue felt thick, heavy, unmanageable and he suddenly forgot how to speak. Because Shepard’s aqua eyes were studying his face, drifting to his mouth and it was then that Joker realized he was still holding Shepard’s hand in his. And even still, he didn’t want to let go.

“You don’t have to thank me. It was the right thing to do.” Shepard shifted, dropping his gaze to their hands, and Joker swore there was a dusting of blush along his cheeks. “I’d do anything for you.”

Of course, he couldn’t just accept a fucking thank you.

“Seriously? You are the most stubborn-” The words stumbled to a halt when Shepard’s words hit him full force. “Wait, what?”

Shepard chuckled quietly, unable to meet Joker’s eyes when the next words spilled out. “Yeah, you’re part of my crew and I do things for the people under my command, but Jeff… with you, it’s different. It’s always been different.”

He swore the entire floor disappeared from beneath him. He swayed slightly and Shepard put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright. Maybe he needed some sleep, it’d certainly been a day. “Does that mean… what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?”

Of all the moments something like this could’ve happened, it had to have been the day before Shepard planned on hitting the Illusive Man’s secret base. After the years together, their working relationship, their friendship, everything… Joker didn’t know what the future held, for him or Shepard or for any of them, but the softness in Shepard’s face when he looked at him, the smile that pulled at his lips and the wrinkles by his eyes… maybe some things were worth it, in the end.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, knowing it was the truth. Everything was fucked up, they could be dead tomorrow, or next week. Maybe a Reaper would show up in the system they were in and blow them away in the next ten seconds. What he did know was that he didn’t want John Shepard to stop looking at him like he held the stars in the sky.

“That’s fair.” Shepard replied, smile widening by the smallest fraction. He stepped back out of Joker’s space, brushing a hand over the top of his shaved head, a sheepish expression on his face. Was he… nervous?

Joker took a step forward, surprised to find he wanted to feel Shepard’s skin against his again. “And you? What is it you want most in the galaxy, John?”

The sound of his given name on Joker’s tongue made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. And delight. “I think you know.”

His heart thrummed in his chest, his blood pulsing beneath his skin. And yet, Joker’s hands didn’t shake. “I need to hear you say it.”

Shepard swallowed nervously, eyes flitting around before landing on him again. Majority of the time, he was steel, unwaveringly brave, and here he was, terrified at being open about how he felt. Another thing they had in common. After a tense moment, Shepard sighed, eyes steady when he met Joker’s. “You.”