One thing Dylan loved about having James Vega on board was the man keeping a traveling gym around his workspace. Trying to find time to order some new gear before the Reapers came had been something he'd kept putting off until it was too late.

He could only do so many pushups before the heavy nanofibers in his muscles gave him diminishing returns, and he didn't even want to think about how out of shape his legs would be by now if he hadn't been allowed some gym time while under arrest.

Fortunately, James was perfectly willing to share his toys, and Dylan wanted to get one, last good workout before the end.

This plan came to a screeching halt when the elevator door opened into the shuttlebay, and the first thing he saw was Vega and Cortez with their arms around each other. The way they were kissing was actually kind-of tender, despite Vega compensating for his extra height by leaning Cortez back over the workbench.

It lasted all of one second; the two of them heard the lift open, glanced over, and immediately separated when they realized who it was. While they both set themselves into standing at attention, Steve gave a snappy 'Commander!' while James let out a startled, 'Sir!'

It wasn't the first time this particular awkward situation had presented itself, and Dylan was starting to wonder if he should start knocking on every door before opening them. His eyes blinked twice, the silence only broken by the metal-on-metal noise of his dog nearby, scratching at the side of its head. Seeing Dylan, it trotted into the elevator with him.

"Carry on, Lieutenants." Trying to sound nonchalant, Dylan tapped the door control and watched it close. He could live with missing a workout.

Deciding to just call it a night, Dylan made for his cabin. The energy he thought he had was gone, and as he flopped into the desk chair to check his messages, his dog sat down on the deck next to him and looked up.

Patting it on the head while he typed out his password on the keyboard in front of him with the other hand, he started sifting through the inbox. One from Hackett, talking about all the engineers and scientists double and triple-checking the Crucible. One from Traynor, offering to pick up a gun if he needed one more shooter. One from his mother, telling him the Orizaba was still in one piece and, less comfortingly, that she'd be there for the assault. One from Wrex, looking forward to the fighting they were going to see on Earth. One from...

"The Citadel is enemy territory and I'm still getting spam from the markets." Rubbing his eyes, Dylan muttered, "If there's nothing left alive on the Citadel except for the spam bots, I'm letting the Reapers win."

Leaning back, he hit the 'delete' button and moved on to one from Joker.

Mind if we talk alone at some point before the shooting starts?

Short, and to the point. It waved a red flag for Dylan, considering how Joker usually was. Maybe he was still thinking about the way Dylan had snapped after Thessia.

Not seeing a point in waiting, especially now, Dylan flipped the intercom to the cockpit. "Joker, come on up."

"Uh, I still have an hour on shift." Joker had answered right away, but the tension in his voice was obvious.

Dylan grew more curious, wondering if it really was the Thessia thing. He thought he'd made amends, but... "Let's call it an order, if it bothers anyone." Hell, he'd gone this long without abusing rank for something selfish, surely even he was allowed to cheat a little now that time was a luxury no one had anymore.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Joker sent back, closing the line afterward.

Of course, having a relationship with a subordinate actually was improper now that they were Alliance again, so Dylan decided not to consider himself a paragon of military discipline. He got up and stretched his arms out, trying not to think about the impending combat he'd be in the middle of. He didn't like it, didn't like that they'd had to go after Cerberus first instead of hitting Earth with everything they had, even though they'd lost very little in the attack on Cronos Station.

Plodding over to the couch, Dylan flopped down unceremoniously, thinking it was the Battle of the Citadel all over again, sacrificing ships and people for something else before going for the real target. He just didn't have a choice this time.

When the door to Dylan's cabin opened and he turned his head to see, the first thing he noticed was how Joker looked as tense as he'd sounded over the comm. It was subtle, most wouldn't notice it for Joker's usual difficulties. Dylan knew him well enough to see the extra stiffness in his legs, the way his fingers kept curling into fists only to be let go a second later and repeat the process.

Joker was passing the model case when Dylan finally said, "Did you break something?"

"What? No." Genuinely surprised, Joker rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm fine."

He sat down next to Dylan, slowly, close enough for their legs to touch. The sigh he let out when he settled onto the couch carried a lot of stress, and pulled his cap off, tossing it towards the table. When it missed and landed on the floor, Joker let out a little huff.

Dylan opened his mouth to ask Joker what he wanted to talk about, but he stopped himself, figuring it would just make him more uncomfortable. He reached an arm up, and settled it around Joker's shoulders.

Leaning into Dylan, Joker said, "How are you holding up?"

"Still taking care of me?" Dylan couldn't help it, considering that Joker had been right about at least one thing when they'd argued; the guy with brittle bones being asked to take care of Commander Shepard was a pretty absurd request.

Anderson wasn't one to take 'that's absurd' as an answer, though, not when something needed to be done.

"Maybe," Joker said.

Dylan's dog walked down the steps towards the couch, apparently curious about what was going on. Beating it to the punch, Dylan leaned forward and said, "Lay down."

The robot dog was nothing if not obedient. It turned around twice and then tipped over onto its side, its metal body clanging onto the deck.

"Think of a name for him yet?" Joker said.

"No," Dylan admitted, not entirely sure why he cared enough to feel ashamed. "I just call it 'dog.'"

"Probably thinks its his name by now."

Much as he didn't want to admit it, Dylan had started to find the robo-dog endearing. It even played nice with his hamster. He remembered Legion saying something about this, the way organics put emotional value into things inconsistently.

He missed Legion.

"What did you want to talk about?" Dylan finally asked. "Finally dumping me for EDI?"

The way Joker rolled his eyes was practically audible. "Hey, just because I admire hotness wherever I see it doesn't mean I need to chase it," he chuckled. "I probably stare at James when he's around as much as Cortez does, come to think of it." More seriously, he said, "You got here first."

"Cortez is doing a lot more than staring right now," Dylan pulled Joker a little closer, felt Joker's hand settling on his leg, thumb rubbing against his knee, back and forth. Before he could stop his thoughts from running off, he wondered how likely it was that the two of them were hiding in one of the Kodiaks and doing more than sucking face at this point.

"Can't say I blame 'em," Joker sounded unsurprised. "Everyone's getting their hookups in while they still can. James is a big enough softy he'll go for someone he has a connection with even if an extra six inches comes with it."

Wondering just how accurate Joker was about the amount of 'activity,' Dylan said, "What are we, the SSV Love Boat all of a sudden?"

"You have no idea," Joker nodded, his head moving against Dylan's shoulder. "I should've known something was going on in the med-bay when I went down for some painkillers and the windows were tinted. You think Adams is young enough that Doctor Chakwas qualifies as a cougar?"

"Garrus and Tali." Dylan wondered why he was saying it as the words came out of his mouth, but sharing a little gossip like they were in highschool felt entertaining in a wonderfully childish way.

Joker certainly thought so. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "I bet those two are adorable together. EDI and I have a bet going on whether Traynor hits on Liara or Allers, so tell me if you walk into that."

"I'm not taking pictures," Dylan answered.

"You're no fun." Joker didn't sound like he meant it.

Joker was still tense, and it made Dylan wonder more. He knew Joker's family was missing, father probably dead, sister maybe dead, and even 'maybe' wasn't a very optimistic outlook right now. It occurred to him that Joker didn't actually want to talk about anything at all, just talk, just pretend they had some sense of normalcy before reaching Earth. "Are you gonna be alright?"

"I, well," Joker stopped leaning on Dylan, straightening up, his eyes glued firmly to the wall. "I wanted to ask you something."

"If you want to make the ship rock even more than everyone else is doing, you don't need to ask." Dylan could remember more than one occasion where Joker needed absolutely no prompting, let alone with nervousness, so he didn't really think that was it. Still, he thought he could at least try to lighten things up.

Joker started rubbing at the back of his neck again, then he scratched, hard enough for the skin to turn red. "Shit, this is hard." He stood up suddenly, wringing his hands, walking the few steps to the table to retrieve his hat from the floor. Turning around to face Dylan, Joker tugged his hat on like a Marine putting on a helmet.

Dylan wasn't sure if he'd done it because it really made him feel better or if it was a delaying tactic so he could go a few more seconds without... whatever it was that was bothering him. He shoved one hand into his pocket and walked back to the couch. Instead of sitting, Joker leaned forward, rested his free hand on Dylan's leg for balance and crouched down, settling carefully onto his knees. Once he was settled, he pulled his other hand out of his pocket, fingers clenched around whatever had been inside. "It, uh... it hurts less like this. Being on both knees instead of one, I mean."

Too caught up trying to figure out what in the world Joker was building up to, Dylan didn't really notice Joker taking one of his hands and clasping it in both of his. Eventually, he realized he could feel something metal pressed against his palm, something metal and round. It was the information he needed for his mind to click with what Joker could possibly want to be on one knee for.

It made him speechless, actually. His mouth just stayed half-open without anything to say. This was fine with Joker, because he wasn't done talking. "I don't normally care about this kind of thing, but what with the end of days winding down to a close, and I wanted to," he trailed off, his eyes locked on Dylan's, the slight artificiality in Dylan's eyes, the just slightly-off blue somehow made it easier not to look away. "I don't know what the hell I want. This isn't for validation or the tax breaks, I just... I want you. And not just in bed."

His mouth closing and opening again without any words coming out, Dylan needed a moment to process what was happening. It wasn't something he normally cared about, either, but Joker certainly had a good point. It wasn't as if they could really have a normal relationship on the Normandy, but he would take what he could get. "If there's a question in there somewhere," he finally remembered how to talk, "The answer is 'yes.'"

Joker was silent until Dylan tugged his hand away to make sure that yes, it was a ring he felt. "It's the one you got me on Illium. Right after the Collector Base?" Adjusting his hat, Joker said, "The one that doesn't fit? It was all I could think of. Can't exactly order one."

"It's fine," Dylan stared at it for a moment. Not fitting on Joker meant it wouldn't fit on his hand either, but he didn't care. He didn't even care it was originally from him. It should've felt strange, but Joker was right about the way things were. Small things, things that would've been so important a year ago, were practically non-existent now.

It didn't take him long to decide what to do with it. He shrugged off his N7-branded hoodie - another gift from Joker - and let it rumple up between the couch and his back. Reaching under his T-shirt, Dylan yanked at the chain holding his tags, hard enough for the links to dig into his skin, a line of dots pressed into his neck before he got it over his head. It didn't take him long to unhook the clasp, slip the chain through the ring and hook it again before he pulled it back down over his head.

Joker's eyes stayed on it at first, utterly fascinated by the way it rested on Dylan's tags when he let the chain fall to his neck, not bothering to tuck them back under his shirt. Eventually, he looked up and, wincing for good measure, said, "Can you help me up?"

Dylan tried not to laugh, but a chuckle got out anyway as he pushed himself to his feet, his hands going under Joker's arms while he stood to help him up. Immediately, he pulled Joker close and kissed him, deeply, like it was his last chance, like they didn't even have the next few minutes. The first time they had to pause for breath, their foreheads rested together. "India Lima Uniform."

"God, you're such a jarhead," Joker grinned.

"And you're such a POG," Dylan said, "But I accept you anyway."

They said nothing else, making their way to Dylan's bed without breaking eye contact, Joker going for his neck and nibbling on an ear, Dylan practically carrying him so they could get there faster. He put his back to the bed and didn't resist when Joker shoved him against the edge, falling onto his back, letting Joker crawl on top of him.

Joker didn't waste any time, digging his T-shirt out of his waistband and yanking it up almost hard enough to rip it somewhere. Sitting up so Joker could pull it off over his head, Dylan let himself drop back down again, his arms still above his head.

One hand on each side of his chest, Joker straddled his waist. His movement was clumsy and awkward, but the end result was the same as it would be otherwise. "I need to tell you something."

"Shoot," Dylan said. After what Joker had asked earlier, he couldn't imagine what could possibly be as important right now.

"James has much nicer lats than you do," Joker kept a completely straight face.

Frowning, Dylan tried to glare daggers, not willing to admit that it was pretty hard to care about being made fun of as long as Joker was still sitting on his lap. He was pretty sure Joker already knew anyway; at the very least, he'd be able to feel it through Dylan's pants by now. Feeling a little self-conscious, he pulled his arms back down. "You do want to get laid, right?"

"Uh oh, are we insecure about our manly physique?" Leaning down, face closer to Dylan's, Joker said, "Need a compliment now?"

Deliberately staring at the ceiling above Joker, Dylan answered, "It couldn't hurt."

Moving further back, his legs ending up to the sides of Dylan's knees, Joker gave him one. "You have better abs than he does." Joker didn't stop moving, leaning down, tracing the lines of Dylan's stomach with his tongue, chin brushing against the hair at the waistband of Dylan's pants.

Head falling back, eyes closed, Dylan sighed with content while Joker slowly worked up his stomach and chest. He enjoyed every sensation, every move of his tongue, the way his nose and the brim of his hat brushed skin. "I really do."

Deciding he'd given Joker enough time to tease him, Dylan waited patiently for him to come back up so they were face to face. Just as their lips brushed again, he wrapped his arms around Joker's back and rolled, the faint glow of biotics flaring from his bare back in short, curly whisps. He wasn't asari, it took him effort to just will his nervous system into making mass-effect fields, concentration that felt like holding his breath.

Dylan didn't care. Maybe it was just for a moment, but it was a moment he could spend smothering Joker underneath him, holding him tight without worrying his weight would crush Joker's ribs. Unlike most people in Joker's life, Dylan knew he wasn't quite as fragile as glass, but there were still limits.

Pushing to the brink of a limit was something Dylan had skill at. He tried to get as much contact as he could, sliding his arms under Joker's and around his back, wishing he'd at least pulled Joker's shirt off before rolling him over but not stopping to think about it. It wasn't worth the effort or the time to dwell on small mistakes.

While they kissed again, Joker's hands settled on Dylan's back and moved down, fingertips brushing freckled skin from the shoulder blades to the waist. The sensation wasn't overwhelming but it was still an incredible feeling for the brief seconds it lasted, tiny shocks following Joker's fingertips down his back, Joker's beard scratching his chin where the hair stood up.

It was over all too fast. Elbows and knees digging into the bed at Joker's sides, Dylan made sure his weight would be redistributed as his mass-effect field dropped, the smack of their lips pulling apart the only sound signaling it as he moved away, gasping for air shortly thereafter.

Watching his face intently, Joker fixated on the beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, and then the line of red-orange running along his jaw on one side. Before Dylan was done catching his breath, Joker said, "You know, anyone who's ever said touching their lover is electric, they really don't know the half of it if they're not sleeping with a biotic."

Laughing through his fatigue, Dylan said nothing, returning Joker's stare. He wondered if they looked traumatized, like a combat haze while they tried to memorize everything about each others' faces. Joker reached up and ran his thumb over the glowing line, brought back by the stress Dylan had been under since leaving Earth.

Catching his hand, Dylan didn't dwell on it. The Lazarus scars weren't worth thinking about anymore. It wasn't even worth worrying about the ones that were gone, the marks of Thresher teeth and acid he used to have. Akuze seemed like something someone else had gone through, as if he was one of the Marines who'd helped hold back the Skyllian Blitz or hit Torfan just hearing stories about monsters made of tentacles and teeth instead.

As he leaned up to get off his elbows, his other hand played with the ring hanging off his neck, the noise of it with his tags strangely soothing. After a moment, he tugged them up, pulling the chain so they fell over his back, where he could still feel them against his skin but where they wouldn't get in the way.

"Let's get to the 'loving' part," Dylan had an evil little smirk on his face while he reached for Joker's belt.

There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own, you can not even imagine it.

The forest brought no comfort. Damp, cold and dead, the trees gave no sympathy.

Dylan chased the boy. Always chasing, never helping, never stopping the slaughter. Every twenty-four hours, two million more gone. Liquid, or dead, or shambling monsters. How many of them children? Did it even matter, anymore?

I know you feel this.

The people were black oil, blots of ink in the wind. They had no eyes but Dylan knew they were watching him. They had no mouths, but he knew they were judging him.

He wanted to tell them he'd tried. It wasn't his fault. He'd given warnings, no one listened. He'd fought side-by-side with the three-headed dog, because the monsters in the dark were worse.

Was it even worth it with all that was already gone? If it stopped right now, would anything ever be the same again? Could the living go on and rebuild on top of so much death?

Your lives are in measured in years and decades. You wither and die.

He shouted at them, tried to tell them he was coming, he would save what was left. They couldn't hear, or his voice didn't exist. Dylan couldn't tell which.

We do not die.

Practically falling onto the bench, Dylan had his head in his hands, trying to will it to stop, because he couldn't bear to see it anymore. He couldn't bear to hear it, not the children put on Dragons' Teeth with their parents, not the people who left this life so he didn't have to, so he could keep fighting and all he had to show for it was...

You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it.

The children were on fire.

Releasing control.

Dylan woke up inhaling sharply. He was halfway to sitting up before he remembered Joker's back was against his chest and his arm was around Joker's side.

The heat under the sheets was killing him. He remembered when it had been nice, curling up around Joker and holding him close, but now, he had to move. He could still hear the voices, and he was glad he wasn't going to have another chance to sleep before they reached Earth.

Their legs had tangled while they slept. Dylan was careful not to be rough, but he couldn't stop the movement from waking Joker up. While he moved himself back and sat up against the headboard, one knee pulled to his chest, Joker stirred, grumbling the entire time.

By the time Dylan settled and took a few deep breaths, Joker had rolled onto his back and pushed the blanket halfway down his chest, looking up at him quietly. Finally turning his head, Dylan found the biggest puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen staring back at him.

"Hey," Joker still sounded half-asleep.

"Hey," Dylan repeated.

His hand moving to Dylan's leg, the closest spot he could reach, Joker said, "Ready for the big day?"

"That's a simple way of putting it." Watching Joker's chest rise and fall with his breath, Dylan wondered what to say. No, he wasn't ready. Yes, he was as ready as he would ever be. No, and he didn't want to even try anymore, he wanted to hand the whole thing over to Admiral Hackett, go back to bed, get a good night's sleep and then throw Joker's legs onto his shoulders all over again.

When he didn't actually answer, Joker didn't press it, he asked something even more ridiculous instead while he sat up next to Dylan. "So, where do you wanna get married?"

"Are there even any good places left?" Not that Dylan thought he would have an answer to that question even if everything was normal.

"Oh, I don't know, but ruins can be romantic." Joker's voice was missing its usual edge for when he made light of bad situations. "Or we could go back to Rannoch. Do it in front of the Reaper you killed. That would be appropriate, and I bet Tali would love to be a bridesmaid."

"If we're having bridesmaids, you're going to be the bride," Dylan managed a smile.

Joker didn't return the barb. He took a few seconds to look at Dylan with those eyes again. "Hey, Dill?"

"Yeah?" Dylan hated being called that ever since his mother started when he was young, but he didn't mind letting Joker get away with it.

"I love you, too." Pausing, Joker felt a little stronger just for being near him. "You know, if that wasn't obvious from all the moaning and begging and saying your name I was doing when you were screwing me silly, and-"

Instead of saying anything, Dylan pulled Joker into his arms, as close as he could, as tight as he dared. He wanted a clear memory of what was waiting for him if he managed to pull it off, and failing that, a clear memory of the last happy minutes of his life. What Joker felt like in his arms, what he smelled like after they were done going at it like animals, how he sounded when he said something serious like 'I love you, too.'

Recalling something Mordin once said, Dylan held him like that and stopped thinking about the war, just for a minute. No burning cities, no untold number of deaths. They were statistics, horrors he could understand and feel for... but they weren't personal.

Joker was who he would come home to, and there wasn't anything more personal than that.