Chapter Text
2183 CE, post Citadel Council meeting, 12am
Joker
The mood in the Normandy was a mixture of defeat and anger. Upon the crew's return – with the addition of a turian named Garrus and a quarian named Tali and a Krogan named Wrex; but without Anderson – Shepard disappeared. She reappeared about ten minutes later, spoke to the crew, and disappeared again. Jeff was concerned, but they didn't know each other that well and so he shoved his concern aside and did his job. She apparently had plotted their next destination before vanishing. He could hear everyone talking about what happened with the Council – which was nothing good. With the exception of Shepard now being a Spectre; and Saren no longer being one. The Council wouldn't listen to them. Jeff wasn't sure what everyone expected to happen; it wasn't like the Council was ever going to actually listen to humans. Times were progressing, but not that quickly.
He didn't say any of this, though. He just sat in his chair and focused on flying, getting them to their next destination – the Artemis Tau cluster, apparently.
Eventually the ship wound down and people went to get some sleep, leaving Jeff to his favorite time at night: the alone and quiet. Part of him wondered if Shepard would appear, if she would also want to be in the alone and quiet; but he didn't allow himself to consider it for too long. They had developed an actual friendship after that night, but she hadn't returned even though she'd asked if she could. Jeff didn't let that disappoint him. She was busy and when she wasn't busy, she found ways to make herself busy, or so he heard. Alenko was always talking about how she spent too much time making sure everyone else was okay and not enough time making sure she was okay herself. It concerned Jeff, but it wasn't like he was someone who could say anything. Alenko didn't seem to care about that line, though. Jeff wondered if Shepard could see the way the man glanced at her.
He doubted it.
Jeff clicked his pen and stared out the window at the stars as they passed them by. He could feel himself starting to doze – drowsy and seduced by the quiet – when he heard the rustle of fabric beside him. He might have been more startled if he didn't recognize the soft vanilla scent that seemed to follow Shepard. Why had he noticed that? Jeff pushed the thought away, but couldn't stop the smile. She had disappeared from everyone else, but she was here.
"Tea?" she asked in a soft, almost exhausted tone. Jeff looked at her and took her appearance in. Her hair was loose and down, falling around her shoulders, the lightness of it catching the glow of the cockpit lights and reflecting them – they made her hair look like dancing flames. She wore that same pullover sweatshirt she had the first night and in each hand was a mug of tea.
He didn't like tea, but he took the one offered anyway. It smelled good, at least, but he didn't dare try it. It would burn his mouth and the last thing he needed was his commander seeing him be a big baby because of his delicate mouth. He would drink it; he knew this without question. He refused to admit it was because of her, though. It was just rude to not. Never mind the fact that Jeff didn't care about being rude in any other situation. He sighed to himself and held the tea closer, enjoying the warmth. "So…"
"Are you going to ask me if I want to talk about it?"
"Not anymore."
Shepard laughed softly and blew on her tea, her lips forming a perfect little 'o' as she did. "They didn't listen." Jeff tore his gaze away from her mouth to look her in the eye, but she was staring at the floor. "A part of me really hoped they would, but the more logical part of me knew they wouldn't. No surprise, just heavy disappointment. I don't know how this all went sideways, Joker. Or how I ended up being the one in charge of it all."
Jeff frowned at how incredibly small she sounded. She was such a force of nature; confident in her actions and self. Logically he knew there were more sides to Shepard, she was undoubtedly a multifaceted person. He just didn't think she let people see that often, if at all. And here she was, looking like the world was crushing her and she didn't know how to hold it up. She probably wasn't looking for an answer, but he couldn't stand sitting in the sad, defeated silence. "Shit luck?"
Shepard laughed fully but quietly enough not to carry through the rest of the ship. "I guess. That would track, actually. My life has just been a string of shit luck after shit luck." Jeff tried not to wince. Well, he hadn't meant for his statement to go that far. He must not have succeeded in masking his response, because she gave him a gentle smile and lifted her tea to her lips. "I think I've managed with the bad luck."
"Looks that way to me." His tea was cool enough now that he could sip from it. The taste was strong, a spiced honey that he hadn't had before. It woke him up but also soothed him, settled him. He knew nothing about tea. Not a single thing. But he thought perhaps this tea was the best he'd ever had. "Honestly, Shepard," Jeff said after his initial sip, "if my opinion is worth anything, I think you're doing a pretty good job so far. You're bringing some interesting people on board and I have never seen the ship more diverse. And you probably don't think your decisions have been good ones – what with losing Jenkins and the Council being idiots – but… they're pretty solid."
Shepard looked at him as if she needed to hear every word he said; as if she needed his voice to envelope her in its comfort and encouragement. He was sure she didn't confide in many people and he wasn't about to squander it away. Of course, he also couldn't just let the sentimental thought sit, so he continued: "For now. I mean, you could totally fuck it up next week. And then I retract my statement. I'm fickle like that."
She laughed again and Jeff could fool himself into believing he saw the uncertainty leave her eyes, just for the moment. The atmosphere definitely shifted to a less melancholy one, but that could also be his imagination.
Tara
The cabin felt weird because it was now hers but still felt like Anderson's. Once they returned to the ship, she immediately needed space away from everyone to quietly rage about the sequence of events. The minute they didn't believe her over Saren – which was, if she was honest, expected – Tara knew they would have an uphill battle with the Council. Thanks to Tali they were able to prove Saren was rogue and working with the Geth – as well as an additional person helping him, an asadi matriarch named Benezia – but that didn't seem enough for the Council to help. They made her a Spectre, something Tara didn't really know how to feel about, but that did absolutely nothing in stopping the larger threat. And there was one. Tara could feel it – like cold dread slithering down her spine. Saren was just the beginning of something and no one in power wanted to listen.
And so when they returned, Tara hid in the cabin. She knew she needed to address the crew, especially now that the Normandy was under her command, but she needed a few minutes to herself. Thankfully, no one sought her out – they gave her the space she desperately needed. Eventually, she got her emotions under control and channeled the commander she knew she needed to be long enough to address and pep talk the crew; and then she retreated to the cabin again. And sat on the bed, staring at the wall. She didn't know what she was going to do and Tara usually knew exactly what she was going to do. She planned everything meticulously, always contemplating worst case scenarios so she could be prepared for it; but she had no idea what was coming and she didn't know how to prepare. Or even what for.
Tara waited until the majority of the crew would be asleep before she ventured out of her cabin. Her feet carried her silently to the kitchenette, her movements on autopilot as she started to brew some tea. Her hands paused as a thought occurred to her and then she grabbed another mug and brewed a second cup for Joker; hoping her assumption that he was in the cockpit was correct. And it had been, because presently she sat in the copilot chair and she felt settled.
She was in her comfort sweater, drinking her comfort tea, and talking to Joker – who, if she let him, might become her comfort person. Tara wasn't one to open up to people; she was always afraid she would be a burden. It wasn't like anyone ever told her she was a burden, but the survivor's guilt she tended to harbor did that for her. The little voice telling her that others had it worse, she had no right to complain was ever present in the back of her mind. She hesitated only slightly when deciding to open up to Joker. Maybe it was because they sat in the quiet solitude of the cockpit; or maybe it was because Joker never dwelled too seriously in the dark she seemed to let slip out. Whatever it was, Tara told him what she would refuse to tell anyone else.
And it felt good to laugh at the fear instead of sitting with it. Laughing at it made it feel less overwhelming and like she actually might be able to tackle it; even if "it" was just her bad luck. Once her quiet laughter died down, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then looked at the now half-empty mug of tea in her hands. Silence covered them like a gentle blanket and Tara could have sat in it forever, she thought, but that wasn't possible. They would have to return to their daily lives, working to stop Saren and maybe get back on track to some sort of normalcy. Even if there was a part of Tara that knew normal was never going to happen again.
"Do you really think I'm doing a good job with the crew?" She sipped her tea after asking. At least with this question it was less likely to upset her if she was failing.
Joker's lips twitched into a smile. "Pressly isn't too fond of having aliens aboard, and everyone else seems to be a little awkward about it; but the quarian and turian–"
"Tali and Garrus."
"Right – Tali and Garrus – seemed to introduce themselves without issue to everyone. Wrex… not so much. But I think that's the best we will get from a krogan. It'll probably take some time, but I don't think you're going to have a hard time with getting everyone to play nice. And that's something to be proud of. We aren't an anti-alien crew, but you know us humans…"
"Change is hard."
"Change is hard," Joker agreed with a simple nod. Tara hummed in thought before finishing her tea. Her attention drifted out the window and she watched the darkness of space as they drifted through it. She was glad Joker was able to make those observations, because they were on their way to pick up someone else – an Asari – and it gave her some relief to know that her crew wasn't likely to cause an uproar about another alien on board.
More silence and Tara itched to move the conversation elsewhere; that brief moment of opening up to someone finally slipping through her grasp because she didn't want to expose her inner turmoil too much. Joker didn't seem to mind, but she didn't know that for certain. For all she knew, he was metaphorically banging his head against the wall because she wouldn't shut up. And so she pivoted the conversation: "Do you have anyone you're close to?"
She could feel Joker eyeing her; out of confusion or wariness, Tara didn't know. "What do you mean?"
"Like… someone you can confide in or you trust above everyone else or feel like you need in your life."
"The Normandy," he said almost instantly. Tara gave him a look that stated she clearly meant a human and Joker shrugged. "Not really. No one on the crew has ever really spent time trying to gain my trust and that's fine. I'm not much of an open book."
Tara nodded, completely understanding. "Family? Significant other?"
"Nope."
"Yeah," she said with a soft sigh, "me neither." There wasn't any sadness to her words, it was just a fact – and although she said it quietly, it was more resigned than sad. She didn't mind it, not entirely; because it meant she didn't have to confide in anyone, but she wondered… " I think we should agree to trust one another. You're the easiest person to talk to on this ship," Joker let out a slight scoff of disbelief but she ignored it, "and I know that I'm not, but I'd like to think you could talk to me… if you wanted to."
Silence. Ringing silence. Tara took a breath and shrugged, feeling suddenly very foolish because he hadn't agreed. "Or not, it was just a sugg–"
"I might be okay with that. No promises, though. I don't like talking about myself and my emotions."
Tara bestowed him with a bright and relieved smile before settling more comfortably into the copilot chair. "Me neither. I don't know why I keep pouring everything onto you."
"Haven't you heard? I'm the easiest person on this ship to talk to."
Tara laughed. "That you are. Now… tell me… what do you have against fuzzy bunnies?"
And their conversation devolved into the weirdness that was a rabbit and why it was Joker thought they were evil.