331 My SI Stash #31 - Among the Stars by KennethRose (MassEffect)

-It updated after god knows how long, the only Joker SI fic I know and it's best pairing ofc! I really hope this fic actually gets an ending as like other abandoned stories i've reread the shit out of them, checking the site once a week for a sign of life/

Synopsis: Sucked into the Mass Effect universe and finding himself replacing enigmatic pilot Jeff Moreau, James White is in for one hell of a ride as he works alongside Erin Shepard and her crew to end the Collector and Reaper threat. Begins after Freedom's Progress mission in ME2. Self-Insert. Strong!Intelligent!Joker, JokerxFemShep romance and fluff, planning TalixKelly later.

Rated: T

Words: 73K

Posted on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8745407/8/Among-the-Stars (KennethRose)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-2 (exceptional)

Adverse yaw, ailerons, angels – as in angels fifteen, bleed air, drift… all these aeronautical terms were smashing themselves around in my skull. A thrumming headache was bursting out from behind my eyes as more and more words I'd never heard of rammed themselves into my brain – forced themselves to make sense to me. One word made a connection with another, which in turn brought forth imaginary scenarios where I would use such things. Suddenly I knew how to correct drift when coming into a Mass Relay – and I wasn't even going there right now. I knew how to correct pitch and yaw when coming in for a ground landing in a super frigate, or even something as simple as a drop ship. I knew how to run maintenance drills, adjust and overclock ship cores, along with a whole bunch of stuff that was probably illegal but which I had to admit sounded pretty damn cool.

The headache was still growing, but the information I was suddenly making sense of overrode it – how could it not? This shit just shouldn't be happening, but it was. A headache I'd had before. I'd never had nearly ten years of complex and advanced aeronautic terms and knowledge flooding into my head. I'd never really understood that kind of stuff before either. Now before we get to the whole 'oh golly he said Mass Effect', let's talk about me. No I'm not being egotistical. Shut up.

I'm James. Hi. I could go on about how 'this is my story', but that's just cliche. I don't do cliché. If you're thinking about how this kind of story is cliché then I will find some way to come and slap you silly. I'm not tall – just thought you should know that. I'm five ten on a good day and five nine on my worst. I'll have you know that I don't slouch. Again, stop thinking whatever you're thinking. Just yesterday I attended a university in Massachusetts. No, I'm not American; I'm British. No, I don't spell mum 'mom'. No, I will not debate the reason we spell mum 'mum'. Shut up. Again. So I was at MIT for three years, majoring in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science. I got Bs. An A- or so a couple of times. Not a stellar student, not the worst either – I just had a problem with academic institutions.

I have a cat, a dog, and a bird. Yes, it's a food-chain. No, it doesn't work like that because the cat's the bird's bitch, and the dog is literally the cat's bitch. Single child, two parents that I barely saw save for maybe three hours a week, an uncle who's pretty laid back, and an aunt that I haven't seen in around six years. Why, you ask? I don't know. I'm a computer gamer too, by the way, and I think it relevant to inform you that I'm an avid fan of the Mass Effect games – apart from that god-forsaken ending in the third instalment – and no, I don't think the Extended Cut DLC made it much better at all. Anyways, that's me. Nothing interesting – move along.

Ah, but the Mass Effect ordeal intrigues you, doesn't it? It intrigues me too, because I still don't know what the fuck is going on. It's not every day, as I said earlier, that you have years of knowledge smacked into your head with what feels like a goddamn sledgehammer. I've still got my eyes closed, and that headache's finally peaked out at 'oh my fucking head feels like a lorry ran over it', which I'm happy about because I was about to reconsider the lorry part and upgrade to a 747. Yes, I know that my head would explode if that actually happened – thanks. It seems a little counterproductive to keep my eyes closed, but I'm afraid that if I open my eyes a light will try and get itself intimately acquainted with my retina. I'd rather not have a blue cube in my vision for the next ten minutes.

See, the knowledge wasn't without a personal spin on it. I know precisely what I'm going to see when I open my lids, but I'm pretty damn sure I'm in a state of denial here, right now. Because there's no way in hell I said Mass Effect earlier now, is there? I mean, that's insane – how can I know the intimate details on acceleration ratios, energy requirements, and terawatt yields on Mass Effect relays unless I'm going insane. I'd prefer to think I'm quite sane, but I'm starting to question even that at the moment.

But Gryffindors forwards.

Fiction, and wrong universe I know… but it seems to fit the moment. Opening my eyes reveals a rather extensive glowing orange panel in front of me hovering in the air. All the numbers and little symbols are completely understandable to me, and quickly changing a parameter by a decimal point to correct the temporal drift inside the relay tunnel we're blasting through at the moment seems like the most natural thing in the world to do.

'Course I've never done it before, but still…

"James, using the bow thrusters to adjust the Normandy's course in such a manner is beyond acceptable operating parameters.

Ah. There's EDI. I can now see why Joker got so incredibly pissed off. "Thank you EDI," I managed to bite out, "but who is the awesome pilot here? Oh-" I interrupt before she can, "that's right, me. Our bow thrusters are rated for exposure almost five times that. It's fine."

The little blue orb expands a little before shrinking down and then disappearing and I wonder if I just bore witness to an AI actually huffing at me. I should be in complete shock right now, because well, you know… different universe over a hundred and sixty years in the future and all that jazz, but I'm not really. The memories in my head have coaxed me into accepting it all – because they're my memories now. I feel a little guilty for replacing Joker but-

"Joker, how's the cockpit?"

Correction, I'm apparently still 'Joker'. Note to self; keep up with the witty comments. And banter. And just generally being an awesome smart-ass. I find the control for the seat I'm sitting in and swivel around with a grin, and then feel my breath hitch in my throat when I see the woman who asked the question. What's the best fem-Shep pic you've ever seen? Multiply the awesomeness by ten, add in sexiness, and you have Shepard – Erin Shepard if my memory, or rather Jeff's, serves me correctly. The glowing scars from the whole 'yeah, I was dead for a couple of years' debacle are far more pronounced than I had ever imagined; the skin around them sunken and bringing them into harsh contrast. It was hard not to stare, but I think I managed – because even with the scarring she was scarily beautiful. If she wasn't a Commander in the Alliance – or whatever she was in Cerberus right now – then she could easily make a living as a model. As it was however, just from her bare forearms I could see that she wasn't a weak little girl; those muscles were toned.

"Hey Commander," I shot back with a smile, "how's things with the whole 'save the galaxy… again' sort of deal? Just like old times – never boring with you, is it?"

I watched as her lips twitched and an amused smirk slowly developed. "You sure you left the Alliance rather than get court marshaled?"

I patted my chest, right above my heart, and was made abruptly aware of the weakness of my bones when I felt them ache with even such a small action. "Right here, Commander, it just hurts." My pout only intensified, and I found her smirk widening until she opened her mouth and laughed. For a moment the pain and loneliness in her scarily green eyes diminished, but it was all too soon that those emotions returned in full force.

"It's good to have you back Joker."

I smiled, a genuine, non-snarky one this time, and just that seemed to take her aback. "Good to be back Erin." Her eyebrows rose even further, and I wondered if perhaps it was too abrupt of a change in pace where 'my' personality was concerned, as well as our friendship. I grinned, and sat back as I forced smugness across my face. "See, can't do me in for insubordination now."

The look of surprise turned into one of amusement once more, and I received a roll of her eyes for my trouble. It felt like a victory to me. "I can still accidentally fall on you."

I threw my arms up and stifled a wince, "See, always picking on the cripple – hey Kelly! The Commander's bullying me!"

I doubt my shout reached the Yeoman, but the effect was still there. "You know Miss Chambers?"

I looked up at Shepard and saw the interested look on her face. It seemed that she hadn't yet talked to the rather probing young psychologist. "Yeah, she's great at parties. Psychoanalysis and all that. She's like your little pet secretary," I ignored the slight glare, "she'll even fetch," and I proceeded to ignore the full-out glare, but then decided against it and sighed. "Look, so far she just hasn't made a good impression on me – too nosy. She tried to get me talking about my… condition and how it made me 'feel' and all that, and she's been pushing ever since. I don't talk about it. She doesn't seem to understand that."

A look of understanding and pity came over Shepard's face, and I found myself struggling not to snarl at it. That look of pity pissed me way off, just like it pissed Jeff off. His memories had obviously carried some emotion to them. I waved my hand vaguely and turned my chair back around. It was a bit childish, but I felt I was entitled to a little bit of that. "See you 'round Commander… and it's good to have you back."

I hoped my comment at the end made up for brushing her off, and if the soft smile I saw reflected in the windows of the cockpit was anything to go by then it had. The moment she'd walked off, I presumed to talk to everybody else, I routed a call through to the medical bay and did something that I thought should have been done a long, long time ago. It seemed stupid for it to not have happened – I mean, common sense, right? "Joker?"

Karin sounded rather surprised to see my face, but almost immediately a worried look crossed her features. I had to stifle an 'awwwww!', because despite her age she could pull off that maternal care look which just looked cute as hell. "No, I haven't broken anything," I assured her, "I promise. I was just calling down to do something I should have done quite some time ago."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows were raised in interest, and her body relaxed back into her seat, as she'd been half-way to standing and coming to see me beforehand.

"Yeah… look, I know to get the full treatment it'll cost a few thousand credits, but I've got a hundred thousand in my savings account," due to living on a ship with minimum living costs… and being the best damn pilot in the Alliance I'll have you know, "and I was wondering if you'd be able to purchase the required equipment for heavy bone-weave treatment for me."

She looked almost appalled, not that I was suggesting it I assumed, but due to the fact that she hadn't ever thought of it before. "I… well James that's actually a… well, a very, very good idea… one hundred thousand is more than enough, way more than enough-"

"Well then a heavy muscle weave would be in order too – I want to be in peak physical condition as soon as humanly possible." A few taps later and a beep came from her end of the line as I transferred the credits, and her eyes widened. "I want the best," I interrupted with my explanation, "not just the first level of treatment. I want the whole line." God it felt like I was on a shopping spree. "And two more things," I added after a moment, drawing a look of dazed disbelief from the grey-haired woman, "I want this to be kept way on the down-low; just between you and me, and also… how long is this going to take?"

I was then treated to an explanation that showed me just how far medicine had come since my time. One week was all it would take for all of the procedures to be performed; one, single week to cure a crippling disease that 'Joker' had had for his entire life. Why he hadn't done what I'd done I'd never know. For the next ten hours I piloted the ship to the Citadel where we'd be staying for two weeks as Shepard busied herself with talks with the head-bangingly-stubborn Council and filled up with supplies, and the moment we docked I hobbled painfully down to the med-bay before being directed to one of the hard tables where I promptly fell asleep.

When I next woke up I found that getting a nail through my foot three years ago was nothing. During the first procedure the stress of the surgery had broken several bones – though I was assured that now my bones were latticed with the first treatment of synthetic weave I wouldn't ever have to experience that again. Apparently by the time I had the last procedure I'd be lucky if a Krogan tackling me would even manage to bend a bone at all. Shepard, bless her cotton socks, if they wore them any more of course, visited me every day before heading to her cabin and collapsing after her mind-numbingly boring and tiring days. She thought I was down there for falling down the stairs and breaking some bones on the way, and neither Karin nor I told her otherwise. We had to finish the bone-enhancement before starting on the muscular, as the extra stress would be detrimental, but we eventually got there after eight days of aches and pains.

Standing on my own two feet again without the agony or the need to hunch over when walking was fabulous, even though I'd only had to put up with a few hours of pain in total - discounting Jeff Moreau's memories of course. Some basic exercises and tests later and I was finally discharged feeling better than I had in my entire life. The extra power I had at my beck and call was exhilarating. Jeff worked out in the ship's gym in the cargo bay regularly to keep his strength up to support his brittle and frail bones, and so my appearance down there didn't get too many odd looks – apart from the suspicious ones because I was grinning like an idiot and there was just something different about me that they couldn't place.

Shepard was hammering a punching bag nearby, and the rest of the crew were staying well clear as she grumbled about 'Udina' 'punch the stupid fuck in the face' 'tear the smug bastard's flanges off' and other such niceties. "Up for a spar Commander?"

And there went the bombshell. All noise ceased, and Shepard froze mid-punch to stare at me, at least until a smirk came to her lips. "Joker, I could shake your hand and beat you in a spar."

"Want to bet on that Commander? One thousand credits says that I can make you tap out."

A few whistles met my rather confident statement, and I watched as Shepard narrowed her eyes at me. I might have gone back to my 'cripple slouch' for a moment as she scoured me for any clues as to why I was so eager to get my bones snapped. She found none after a moment before nodding and looking uneasy, and I grinned before walking to the sparring circle, a rather crude line drawn on the floor with black paint, and started strapping on the familiar gloves. I'd been doing martial arts since I was eight, forgot to mention that, and then branched off into boxing, wrestling, and finally into MMA when I was fourteen. I'd won my national championship and come fifth internationally for my age group, and then promptly decided that I was bored of it when I was seventeen where I dropped out of the competitive circuit.

That sure as hell didn't mean I didn't still have it though.

I could see the uncertainty in Shepard's eyes as she looked at me gearing up, though had to hide a smirk when I shucked off my Cerberus shirt; leaving me in just shorts. I caught a look of her frank appreciation and attraction for nearly two seconds before she marshaled herself back into her stoic'ish persona, and after tapping her gloves together she stepped into the ring. The gloves were barely padded; made just to keep the knuckles from really receiving a beating, and I followed her soon after, tapping my gloves together to gauge their thickness. The last thing I wanted to do was break something – and I wasn't talking about me.

By this point almost the entire ship had gathered to watch the frail, sickly pilot face off against the Great Commander Shepard – please take note of the capitalisation there – and I felt a little self-conscious for a moment. Jeff's memories had Shepard fighting in them, hand-to-hand in the gym, and while her technique was alright it was more brawling than anything else. I, however, had nearly ten years of practice under my belt; enhanced muscles; and I was ready. "You sure about this Joker?" she asked, and it didn't take much to detect the almost pleading tone underneath. She might just as well have said 'Joker, please don't do this'.

I grinned and nodded, and she let out a deep breath before getting her guard up and crouching slightly. It was apparent to everybody including me that she wasn't taking this seriously, because normally she'd just go for it; all out. I'd work her up to it. I bounced on my toes a couple of times, eliciting an expectant wince from Shepard and most of the crew, and then crouched into my favourite beginning stance; one that would allow me to branch out into nearly all of my respective fighting disciplines with minimal movement.

That got a few more surprised looks, and Shepard finally got the hint and advanced. She moved slowly, cautiously, and not because she was afraid of me. Afraid for me, yes. I rolled my eyes and darted forwards, smacking her hard in the shoulder and making her fall to the ground on her arse – eliciting gaping jaws and wide eyes. Shepard was not excluded in this. I saw Chakwas at the back of the group stifling her giggles. I didn't even need to shake my hand; hell, it was barely even a love-tap. "Come on Shep, off your bum." It took a second for my words to register, but when they did she rolled to her feet and stared at me before narrowing her eyes and crouching deeper. I grinned widely, "Now that's more like it." She came with a right hook to my ribs, and I stepped aside before swiping her feet out from underneath her whereupon she found herself sitting on her arse, and a lovely arse it was, once again.

"You're leaving your guard open when you attack," I said casually as I picked a bit of dirt out from underneath my fingernail, "so let's try that again, shall we?" Now she was glaring as she stood up, and I smiled again before reacting to her sudden attack. This time she threw a powerful punch to my face, which I used my forearm to stop dead in its tracks. Her shock gave me another moment to move, and it took me nary a second to get her against my back and flip her right over my shoulder. I heard her breath whoosh out of her in a pained huff, and stepped back as I looked down at her with a small smile on my face.

I didn't bother commenting; she was mad now, which meant that I was actually going to finally fight the Great Commander Shepard and not the watered down version she apparently reserved for cripples. I saw credits passing around the crew over Omni-tools and grinned; I wonder how many people were betting on me? Once she'd calmed her spasming diaphragm she rushed me, and in a flurry of kicks, punches, and in a few cases attempted head-butts. She was all over me. In a purely platonic sense of course. It didn't mean I couldn't appreciate the feel of her breasts the few times she was pressed up against me.

So she attacked and attacked, and I parried and parried as she wore herself slowly out. Despite the muscular enhancements however it was clear that she was fitter than I was, and it got to the point where I knew that if I didn't stop mucking around she would probably outlast me. Trapping her arm in a lock wasn't so hard when she got sloppy with a jab to my ribs, her other arm came soon after, and then a head-butt from my side which left her dazed – more than enough for me to push her backwards, roll over her, and then flip her over me to slam into the ground; winding her again. A leisurely couple of seconds later and I had both her arms locked behind her back as she struggled to get regain her breath; my knee on her lower back to prevent her legs from getting any action against me.

She struggled for several moments, but hauling her arms up closer to her shoulder-blades made her acutely aware that if I wanted to I could dislocate both her shoulders and leave her helpless. I finally got a defeated tap on my hand, and immediately let her go before rolling off her and back onto my feet before offering her a hand up. She stared at me for several seconds before brushing it angrily aside and walking off with a deep scowl on her face and the entire room was quiet until the doors closed behind her on the elevator.

And then pandemonium burst out. It took me broadcasting over the PA system in the cargo bay to shut them up, and I looked out at them before rubbing my brow. I'd just wanted to show Shepard that I wasn't a useless, frail cripple anymore – not to piss her off, embarrass, or humiliate her in front of the crew – which is apparently what I went and did. "Look everybody, I went and had some elective surgery to correct my Vrolik syndrome and wanted to prove something. In no way did I mean to undermine Shepard's combat proficiency, and I just want to remind you that I haven't. Shepard would kick my ass in war strategy, team leading, firearms, decision making… all that, she'd kick my ass pretty damn quickly. Quicker than I beat her here today. I just so happen to know martial arts, and boxing, and wrestling. She just so happens to have only taken Alliance and N7 hand-to-hand combat classes. Now if you'll excuse me I have a Commander to go and explain and apologise to."

Without waiting for an answer, and rolling my eyes at Miranda's suspicious glare, I walked over to the elevator and punched the button for the first floor. "Commander Shepard has locked down her quarters, Mister White."

"Well then unlock her quarters."

"That is against my protocol, Mister White."

It took me less than five seconds to hack the elevator mechanism and trick it into thinking it was a floor below the current one… even though that floor didn't exist. Punching the button for the CIC then got me to Shepard's quarters, and her door really wasn't that much of a challenge. The moment it hissed open however I had to dodge a fist to the face, and then a flurry of jabs and kicks. Apparently EDI had seen fit to inform the good Commander that I was on my way up. Since I was no longer in front of the crew and wasn't trying to prove I wasn't so easily broken I took her out within ten seconds; kicking her onto her bed and then putting her in much the same hold I'd gotten her in down in the Cargo Bay.

"Now Commander," I chastised mildly, "I came up here to apologise – not get beaten up."

She glared up at me, and I had to admit that she looked damn cute when she was all flushed and pissed off. "Get. Off. Me."

"Am I gonna get my face smashed in if I do?"

"Likely," she snarked back, and I felt one of my eyebrows rise.

"Well then I'll leave you biting mattress as I apologise then." She struggled for a moment but a small pull on her arms reminded her that she was once more in a position where I could cause untold amounts of pain with a small pull upwards. "I'm sorry for kicking your arse in front of the crew Shepard," I started, and got a glare over her shoulder for my wording. "I just wanted to prove that you don't have to treat me like I'm made out of glass anymore… that I don't need your pity." Her expression turned confused for a moment and I snorted as I looked at her with disbelief. "You can't tell me you don't realise when you do it, Shep; whenever I'm in the cockpit, stuck there because if I walk I'll be in pain, that you don't give me that fucking look of pity." Shock flitted across her face at my language, and I was drawing heavily on the years of repressed emotion Jeff had built up about his illness. "And when I was in the med-bay and you thought I'd fallen down the stairs… God Shepard, do you know just how much I wanted to wipe that look off your face?"

Her struggling had long since ceased, and I rolled off her back to walk over to her barren fish tank where a lone Koi fish was swimming aimlessly around inside. "I-why didn't you tell me you felt like that Joker?"

I turned around and raised my hand, waving it slightly, "Yeah, don't like talking about it, remember?"

"So you… what, kicked my ass- no, how did you even do that? I've never seen anybody fight like that before… and I know you should have broken bones right about now."

"Heavy bone weave."

She looked blankly at me before slapping herself in the head and sitting up, and a moment later she had her head buried in her hands as she groaned. "Why didn't anybody think of that before?"

I chuckled slightly, glad that the dangerous atmosphere had been done away with, and shrugged. "I don't know. It cost me almost all my savings, around eighty thousand credits because I went for a heavy muscle weave as well, so maybe that's why. The Alliance really isn't into shelling out tens of thousands of credits to their own soldiers, let alone one that left for Cerberus. And Cerberus probably isn't into giving me the ability to move around a lot."

She raised an eyebrow and flicked her deep red hair behind her ear, and I couldn't help but follow the action. Her face scrunched up a bit as she digested what I'd said, but then she shrugged in defeat and stared at me. "Why?"

I grinned and pointed to her door. "Because I can hack things like that in seconds; things that would take even Tali some minutes to get through. Only reason I wasn't double-qualified as a pilot and engineer was because of my Vrolik's Syndrome. After all, what's the use of an engineer that can't get down and dirty?" Just as I finished speaking there was a loud 'phutz' sound, followed by some crackling, and before I knew what was happening Shepard had reached under her pillow, pulled out a pistol, and was looking down the sights at where a wisp of smoke was visible on her desk.

I knew what was happening, and so quickly ducked down and put my hands over my head, and I heard a thump as Shepard dive-rolled off the bed and into cover as the entire room was filled with hissing, crackling sounds of electricity. It took nearly ten seconds for everything to quieten back down again, and I slowly looked around – wincing when I smelled the burned silicon and saw the smoke permeating the entire space around us. A small runtime on my Omni-tool activated the venting in the quarters and fresh air rushed in to replace the smoky.

"And that's why Cerberus really doesn't want me mucking around – because I'd have the great idea of hacking EDI's server banks… which then allowed me to connect to all the Cerberus bugs and short them out."

Shepard looked across at me from where she was crouched down by her couch, gun at the ready, and then slowly lowered her weapon as she shook her head with a wry grin. "Somehow I think having you on your feet is going to make this ship a lot livelier."

As we both got to our feet and stretched out she holstered her gun on the magnetic holster on her thigh and then stared me down for several seconds. She reminded me of my old principal; as if she was looking right though every façade and lie you'd told her to see the truth, but I held her gaze just as I did the old bitch that'd made my life a living hell at my old school. The difference was that Shepard's eyes were simply alluring to look at, and the face surrounding them though scarred was still scarily beautiful. I think you'll find I'll keep on reiterating that point.

Did you know Shepard is beautiful?

She is really. Am I annoying you yet? Anyways, she eventually relented and smiled – that pain receding once more and her face looking care-free for a moment as she talked. "You teach me how to fight like that Joker, and we're good."

I laughed and nodded before shaking her outstretched hand. "So long as you teach me how to use guns."

She laughed right back, her face crinkling with genuine amusement, and shook my hand before releasing it and walking over to her desk – glaring at a rather damaged terminal. "Ah," I said when I saw what she was looking at, "yeah…bugged. Before we leave the Citadel we're going to have to buy some more stuff."

'Stuff' turned out to be around a million credits' worth of gear, because virtually every single private console was bugged. Thankfully my beautiful Normandy's vital systems had escaped unscathed, because the Illusive Man apparently wasn't so paranoid as to give a damn about how we actually drove his multi-billion credit super frigate. Miranda never found out just why her little surveillance network had gone and shat itself, though for the entire day the new systems were being installed Shepard and I shared those small smirks of amusement whenever the Cerberus cheerleader bitched and moaned about how the ship was supposed to be top-of-the-line.

Thing is, without the bugs tying up the bandwidth the entire ship gained a noticeable boost in processing power, as well as some benchmarks we run to make sure everything was up to spec. Miranda stayed very quiet whenever Shepard, me, or any if the other engineers mentioned how confused we were that the ship was running better… with identical hardware installed to replace the old stuff. I enjoyed making her sweat bullets.

By the time our visit to the Citadel had come to an end Shepard had finally been reinstated as a Spectre, and the Normandy was running full tilt for the first time – better than ever. EDI hadn't said anything about the rather radical restructuring we'd gone and done, and she also didn't mention the fact that she noticed the logs to the AI core showing my name minutes before all the Cerberus bugs were fried. I did notice, however, that she seemed to – pun very much unintended – bug me less, so I assumed that she hadn't liked all that surveillance either.

Teaching Shepard for the past three days had been fun. It was odd to think of her as a student, especially considering just how incredible she was, but when she was learning under me she put aside her authority and allowed me to run the show. If I got frustrated and berated her she'd take it and improve, not pull rank. That put her above almost any other person I'd known in my entire life. I'd started her off with some basic katas that would get her body accustomed to moving more fluidly, and she'd taken to them like a duck to water. Thing was, the stuff I was teaching her had to be readjusted on-the-fly because she wasn't fighting other humans most of the time: she was fighting ugly fuckers like the Collectors, or mechs.

And that was the thing that got us bonding a lot closer.

In just three days we'd moved past 'Shepard' and 'Joker' in most part, and had migrated to 'Erin' and 'James' respectively. It had been really weird at first. I got her calling me by my first name, because in the game she'd always called the crew by their first names… but actually hearing the word 'Erin' come out of my mouth was… unexpected. She commanded an air of respect, and it took numerous assurances that she didn't mind and wanted to be a bit more familiar for me to finally get over my hero-worship and start treating her like a close friend. Because let's just admit it, she isThe Shepard – only this time I wasn't planning on letting her die on the Citadel when the catalyst went off so she could become a martyr.

Our next stop was, lucky us, recruiting one very, very angry convict named Jack. Yes, the Jack – you know, that crazy biotic that can kill three huge mechs in a cut-scene but who finds it hard to deplete the shields of just one during game-play. The thing is that real life, which I'd consider this world is currently, just so happens to have a habit of being more realistic. I'd watched the helmet-cam vids of Freedom's Progress, and I'd seen the massive amounts of destruction Shepard and her team had torn through the mechs. Real life was infinitely more bloody and, funnily enough, realistic than a game. I'd seen the burns and cuts Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob had come back with – they weren't just back to 100 percent the moment they stepped back onto the ship like the game would have you believe.

So because it's real life, I have a feeling that Jack actually will be that powerful… just like all the enemies we've faced so far – or that Shepard has faced so far – have been more powerful. That's why I'm doing all I can to be as good as I can be; as fast; as strong; and as experienced as humanly possible. Because when the Collectors come along, and if I haven't managed to unshackle EDI by that point, I'm not going to let the crew be abducted. Except for maybe Kelly Chambers if she keeps on pestering me about my condition – even though it's been cured. That I don't understand.

So right now I'm sitting inside the cockpit making sure that these bastards on Purgatory don't lock our ship onto the docking cradle, because I already know what the head Turian is going to do. I warned Shepard before she stepped out the airlock that I'd 'discovered some files' that had records of requests for her – dead or alive – and that Kuril had expressed a rather large interest in the bounty. So she had been warned, sufficiently enough I hoped.

Sitting around doing nothing while knowing that Shepard was walking into a trap was more than unnerving, and I was sure people were wondering just why the hell I was so antsy; I'd been pacing the CIC for the past ten minutes. Finally after nearly an hour of waiting Shepard's voice hissed into my ear, and I grinned widely – pumping my fists. "We're all okay James – just a little roughed up. Probably would've been more so if you hadn't warned me about Kuril."

"But you're alright?" I confirmed as I walked briskly back to the cockpit – my decision already cemented firmly in my mind.

"We're alright," she replied, and I could almost hear the smile in her voice.

"Good. I'll come down and see you in the med-bay once we're on our way to Omega." This was all said as I sat down and ran through the security protocols to launch one of our nuclear torpedoes. During the time I'd been biting my nails while Shepard was getting shot up I'd managed to gain access to their systems and peruse the prisoner files. The 'nicest' prisoner on the ship was a serial rapist who had ruined the lives of over thirty girls and women before he was caught. The worst was a mass rapist, murderer, as well as a slaver, blackmailer, and he had pulled off an orbital drop on an Asari colony twenty years back – a.k.a. boosting a huge asteroid so that it fell onto the colony with the destructive force of a 50 megaton nuclear bomb, enough to wipe out New York and then some.

I'd never killed anybody before, and I had the feeling that not looking them in the face when I pressed the button would make it easier – more of a detached action. I wouldn't see the gore, just the explosion. Five minutes later the airlock hissed open and I watched as first Miranda, then Jacob stepped into the corridor. Shepard walked wearily into view followed by the heavily tattooed biotic, and gave me a tired smile and wave before heading off down to the med-bay or engineering to set Jack up.

"Docking clamps away," I said before activating the commands, and a moment later I got confirmation from down the galley of, "Clamps away."

"Next destination is Omega," I announced over the loud speaker as I manoeuvred the ship out from Purgatory, "ETA twenty six galactic hours."

Of course the next thing I did had everybody looking around with wide eyes as red lights flashed on and off – activating a 1.4 megaton nuclear warhead seemed to do that. No, it doesn't just happen in the movies. EDI's lovely little voice provided constant narration of, "Nuclear warhead armed," repeatedly, and the weapon's specialist just behind me was freaking out because he realised that his terminal wasn't responding to his abort commands. Of course the huge ACCESS DENIED on his screen brought all attention back to me, because the pilot was the only other person who had the authorisation to access such weaponry.

I wondered what Shepard was doing at that moment.

The weapon's specialist however, had apparently made up his mind just as I'd made up mine. The moment I punched in the co-ordinates and pressed launch he was up and out of his chair, sprinting towards me. When I stood up and crouched slightly he faltered, but after a second's indecision he continued with a yell to psych himself up.

The yell… did not help him.

Launch procedures take ten seconds. I had him on the ground groaning as he clutched at his balls within two, and there was no way I was feeling sorry for him. From Jeff's memories he was a xenophobic piece of Cerberus scum, and my past week here had backed that up if his disgusting jokes and violent fantasies that he loudly boasted about when Shepard wasn't present were anything to go by. From taking off a quarian's mask and repeatedly raping her as she slowly died through fever and illness to ripping off a turian's exoskeleton plate by plate – nothing was too extreme or immoral. To him aliens were beneath even animals. A few more Cerberus operatives moved to stand when they saw their comrade on the ground groaning in pain, but they were too late. A low 'chunk' sound rumbled through the ship, and everybody's breaths hitched as they all rushed to the windows or a terminal displaying the external hull feeds.

The missile blasted through space, looking for all like a giant cigarette…only without the filte- okay, it didn't look like a cigarette, but I thought it sounded pretty cool. The moment it hit Purgatory however, nearly ten seconds later as it rocketed across the huge gap I'd put between us and the ship, it was no longer just an innocent white tube. I swear that I've never seen something so beautiful and yet at the same time so completely destructive. Within a fraction of a second I had snuffed out five hundred and eighty four lives, and for some reason I felt nothing about it save perhaps a slight sense of relief that none of those evil people would ever darken another person's life again. If I had to shoulder responsibility for those deaths I'd do so gladly. After exploding the bomb quickly imploded, and nothing at all was left of the huge prison station.

I don't know how long I stared, but it can't have been too long despite it feeling like a lifetime, because Shepard wasn't steaming full-tilt towards me yet. Taking a deep breath I opened up my Omni-tool and pulled up the ship-wide address system. "Crew of the Normandy SR-2, this is your pilot speaking. I feel that everybody should be aware that I was the one that just used a nuclear warhead to destroy the Prison Ship Purgatory. The only person who could have stopped me is currently lying at my feet because I booted him in the family jewels – and no, I'm not apologising for that. For those of you that feel I did the wrong thing…" a few more commands on my Omni-tool later and a number of beeps echoed out around the CIC, and indeed around the entire ship. "Well, just take a look at every single rap sheet of the people on that ship."

I didn't think I needed to say any more… and to be quite honest it was just starting to hit me what I'd done. I'd killed, in cold blood, over five hundred people with my right index finger. "EDI, take the helm and set us for a course to Omega."

"Understood James."

I nodded to myself before heading off the bridge, past the shocked stares of my crew mates, and into the elevator. When I emerged into engineering I quickly made myself scarce in Zaeed's quarters, which weren't in use, and proceeded to quite unashamedly bawl my eyes out. I'd done something irreversible, and even though I'd been certain in my decision only now was doubt clouding my mind, and that was in no way a good thing. Did I have the right to take all those lives? I know that I'd saved at least a few people if the message Shepard got in the game was any indication, from one of the prisoners that had escaped… but did that make it right? I mean Jack was messed up, like really messed up, and she was classified as a mass murderer, smuggler, extortionist, as well as drug-ring leader for a time… what if there were prisoners on that ship that had just gotten a bad rap?

I didn't know any more. I don't think I wanted to. As my heavy breaths slowly quieted I became aware of another set of breathing in the room. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was there. If it was Jack she wouldn't have waited, she just would've out and called me a fucking pussy or something similar. Miranda would've been dragging me to the airlock to space me, and Jacob wouldn't have been subtle about his entry. I didn't open my eyes; my face still too busy being buried in my hands for that to do any good. "Why'd you do it?"

"Read the files," I croaked out, "it's all there."

"So?"

"So you think those fucking criminals would just sit around and wait to be caught, Shepard?!" I snapped my head up to glare at her and wiped angrily at my eyes. She looked shocked; something I'd been seeing a lot of lately. "Kuril and the majority of the guards were docked at that ship, Shepard! I did a scan! Twenty cruisers – enough room to carry thirty apiece! That's enough for all the prisoners you had to release to get off that fucking hunk of metal!"

She looked a little pale at the thought, and I was glad I was getting through to her. "But… all of them? I mean… I didn't think you would do something like that…"

I stared at her, agape for several very long seconds before throwing my hands up in frustration, anger, and hurt. "I thought you and I understood each other Commander," I bit out, and it pleased me to see a wince on her face. I brought up my Omni-tool and flicked a file towards her. "If you'd read that before coming and being all 'guilt-trip' on me then perhaps you'd have not been such an inconsiderate bitch and realised that I'm freaking the fuck out because of what I did." Now she just looked aghast as well as pale, and my glare intensified. "For the Savior of the Galaxy you really can be thick sometimes."

I didn't bother saying anything else, just stormed out of the room and into the waiting elevator before punching the button for the Cargo Bay, but not before screaming out, "Jack! Get your fucking scrawny ass down to the fucking cargo bay you goddamn pussy!"

As the doors hissed closed and the elevator begun moving I swore I heard a roar of anger, and smiled grimly. Fury flowed like lava through my veins, and I had no idea what had gotten me so angry. I didn't much care either. Perhaps it was a combination of the stress and mental breakdown of killing for the first time coupled with the betrayal of Shepard's comments, but I just needed to fight. All noise ceased when I stepped out into the cargo bay, and everybody gave me a damn wide berth as I walked towards the sparring ring. By the time my destination had been realised not a single person was within ten meters of me – an accomplishment on a space ship.

The second I stepped into the circle I heard a deep growl echo out in the silent room, and turned around as I pulled off my shirt and threw it away. There was Jack glowering around her to find out just who had insulted her, and it didn't take long for her eyes to lock onto me. Probably because I was glaring at her looking ready to kill all over again. Before I knew what was happening a biotic shock wave was booming towards me, but a quick roll to the side took care of that. It splashed against the wall of the ship creating a huge dent in the wall, and I realised in some part of my rage-clouded mind that if that had hit me I'd be a fine, bloody mist.

"Ah, have to resort to long-range attacks do you? Told you you were a pussy."

Yeah. I was suicidal. No joke. With a burst of speed she was right in front of me; the blue trail of a charge rippling behind her, and a furious punch sheathed in biotic energy was coming right at my head. I ducked before kicking her as hard as I could in the stomach, and she gasped as the breath was forced from her lungs.

It didn't make her stop at all.

Her next hit contacted, and I felt my ribcage flex as I was sent flying back where I slammed brutally into one of the girders on the wall. When my head slammed against the hull my entire world went dizzy for a moment, but I forced myself to duck into a roll and get out of the way as another punch came at me. I danced away and evaded the furious psycho biotic for nearly a minute as I got my bearings back, but then dove into the fray – punching with all my power into her gut. She curled over in pain, and I roared as I grabbed the back of her head and slammed it down, and hurled my knee up. The resultant crunch was unexpectedly loud, as was the scream of pain as she collapsed backwards; blood flowing in rivers from her broken nose.

She didn't deserve it, and what I was doing was so unlike me it's not funny… but I just needed to get all this pent up anger out of me. Jeff's memories had integrated into my head almost completely; his entire life, and all that anger he had at the universe because of how everybody treated him like a useless cripple had finally broiled over with the added emotion my actions had brought forth. There was just so much of it; an incredible amount that just clouded everything but the lust for battle, and Jack was the one person on the ship who I knew would oblige me. Her next attack came so unexpectedly I didn't even see it coming until it slammed brutally into my face.

I felt myself smack into something, hard, but my vision was out as was pretty much everything else. I tried rolling to the side but was unsure if I was successful or not – my balance was so screwed up I was surprised I even knew I wasn't in zero-G. I kept on moving, or at least what I hoped was moving, out of the way of inevitable attacks by my chosen opponent, and slowly the fuzziness in my head cleared – but the ringing in my ears still remained. Jack's blurry outline slowly came into focus, and I sluggishly evaded another one of her punches before relying on memory alone, stepping behind her, reaching over the back of my head to grip her neck in a reverse hold, and then literally throwing her by her neck over my head, and then forcefully slamming her face-down against the hard metal floor.

I'd seen a bloke get killed with the same move on television before, but this was Jack we were talking about. The resulting crunch, 'ooof', and then after several seconds gurgling gasps as her diaphragm spasmed was proof that I was right – she was hard to kill. I felt liquid trailing down my face and raised my hand to my temple, bringing it away covered in an absurd amount of blood. My jaw felt like it was broken, and I was pretty sure I was missing at least five teeth somewhere. My vision quickly begun deteriorating again, and I knew I was about to pass out. I'd been choked out during several training sessions years ago, so I knew when I was almost unconscious.

I managed to get myself sitting with my back against something hard before closing my eyes, and managed just two more words. "Fuck you."

I wasn't talking to anybody except maybe myself and the universe for doing what I'd done, and putting me in that situation at all respectively.

I didn't care.