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He doesn't remember the service. To be honest, he doesn't remember much from those first few months. He spent most of that time in a bottle, trying and failing to forget the feeling of her grip on his arm. Of the sounds of explosions being suddenly and deafeningly quieted with the swish of the closing escape pod door with his best friend on the wrong side of it.
He can recall bits and pieces of the ceremony. If he tries real hard. He knows Anderson spoke. He thinks Hackett might have too, although he's not too sure. There were a lot of faces there, most he didn't recognize. That hadn't surprised him though. She had helped so many people, and it was impossible to meet her and not feel some lingering connection afterwards.
He doesn't remember a word that was said. He wasn't listening, too busy staring at the cold, lifeless eyes on the statue behind the podium and knowing that its very existence would disgust her. She never wanted recognition. She always hated the idol worship she would get from people bringing up her victory at Elysium. He could remember, clear as day, their conversation the night after she met Conrad Verner for the first time. It revolted her, being singled out. He heard her voice in his head that day, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, making a joke about being misunderstood and how ironic that was considering how many people claimed to know her. Evey muscle in his body stiffened at the thought; it was reaching the point of pain when he felt the enviro-suit clad hand of his ex crew mate squeeze his forearm to remind him to breathe.
He didn't stay until the end. He's sure it must have been quite the sight, the guy with the messed up body maneuvering his crutches and practically storming out from his seat in the front row. But how could he stay and watch the bastardization of the memory of his... whatever she was to him. It was the priest that did it. One moment Udina was standing at the mic, the next a priest was walking out to say a few words in memory. It infuriated him that they would do that for someone who was so openly Jewish. It was like they didn't even care to get the basic facts right.
He thought he was followed out. He had a vague memory of someone trying to talk to him as he left, but he couldn't even say what species they were. All he knew was that he had to get out of there.
He went to a bar.
Tali stayed with him for a little while. She was newly all grown up in her people's eyes, and already seemed an important scientific asset to her people, but they also understood how much of a loss she suffered, and from what Joker could gather they had some intense grieving processes that allowed her to take a leave of absence from the flotilla for a bit. She stayed with him, although neither one could tell who needed the company more. They never really talked about her, about their relationships with her. Mostly, whenever something happened that reminded them of her, they would just get quiet.
They snuck into a parking bay on the anniversary of Elysium. Lying in an unlocked Mako, playing music neither of them really understood, they tried to ignore the celebrations happening around them.
They shared a room for that time period, and with her immunocompromised state and his physical disabilities, they were able to cohabitate peacefully, understanding each others health needs innately. It kept him mostly sober, during those months she stayed with him. It kept her mostly sane. But eventually it had to end. Tali was needed back on her new home ship, her people needed her expertise, and she needed to get her hands dirty again. It was a quiet parting. Both worried about what they would do without the support of the other. Without the presence of the woman so deeply important to both of them. They had shared a best friend, and with her gone had drawn closer to each other. Both knew that Tali leaving wouldn't change that, that they would continue to lean on each other. Tali left with a nod and a note on his fridge with the best way to reach her.
Joker went to a bar.
It wasn't long after that that they grounded him. It was a slow process, starting with having him do some casual drop off runs for soldiers, then moving him to doing supply runs to far off colonies, seemingly just to get him off Arcturus for a little while. Then even those stopped.
Joker got kicked out of his usual bar and started going to another one. He contemplated leaving Arcturus; fantasized about quitting the Alliance.
And then he got up the next morning and went to work.
He tried to skip, it's not like they had him doing anything anyway, but he could feel her disappointment radiating from his chest. She was no quitter, and she'd have hated to see him become one. He could hear her flippant comment in his ear, something about not letting the best pilot in the galaxy leave her army.
"The Normandy's lost. Going down with the ship won't change that. Besides, I can't just leave the best pilot in the galaxy behind, could I?"
He thinks he might have had visitors at some point. Thinks its possible Liara had come to see him, but too be honest, most of those later months of the first year were hazy. He can remember a very insistent tone from Liara though, as if she was trying to tell him something important, something necessary. But he was too drunk to hear it, he was almost always too drunk in those days, and so she left. Or potentially, she had never come, and it was his subconscious giving him hallucinations to make the days seem more meaningful. To keep him from just letting go.
It was an empty existence. For all the pomp and circumstance of the statue and celebration in her honor, her name became almost a dirty word in the Alliance, and her claims of greater troubles were swept under a rug. Suddenly, and without warning, all signs of her were wiped from his life at work. It was like she had never existed, and everyone who dared mention her was quietly told to keep their mouths shut.
It scared him. He was so constantly terrified that a day would come when he would be the only one who thought of her at all. He couldn't handle that responsibility. He didn't deserve that honor. Especially considering he was the one who killed her.
He brought his service pistol home that night. He called Tali instead.
When she landed back in the station, just for a few days, she was frazzled. Apparently there had been an attack on one of the ships in the Flotilla. That group they had run into some time the year before. He didn't pay much attention to the details, but he gathered it was a big deal. He asked why she was with him then; she said he needed her more.
He stayed sober that night, for the first time in a very long time. And the two of them talked. They talked about her, about who she was, about what she did that would never reach the public eye. Her bad singing voice and her pride whenever she could make someone cringe. The fact that she painted her toenails even though it was against regulation (because obviously toenail polish is what's going to thwart my leadership skills, she'd alway say while rolling her eyes) and how much it drove Joker crazy that she'd do it with her feet up on the copilot display in the cockpit.
It was the first time he'd let himself cry. And with that door broken open, he couldn't stop from letting it all pour out. Tali was the first, and only person he told about how he felt. About how much he had felt. For her.
She hugged him as tightly as she felt comfortable. They both privately wondered if there had been a chance there, between the commander and her pilot. Tali thought yes. Joker stopped the thought before it could spiral, knowing that it didn't matter anyway.
She left the next night; she was being sent out to research some science bullshit he couldn't even begin to care about. He kissed her on her helmet, right where her forehead was. She adjusted his cap so it sat more comfortably on his head.
He remembered hearing about Ashley's promotion. He was happy for her, really, and so he only let the bitterness come out when he was alone. He tried not to think about how she must have disavowed the reaper threat and all of what she had seen on the SR-1, everyone she had known. He failed, and felt himself become more upset with her. How could she just pretend it didn't happen? How could she stand on the... on the grave of the bravest woman either of them had known...
He swallowed his rage, his sadness, and wrote her a short, professional, congratulatory note. She didn't respond.
Out of everyone, he had expected Garrus to be the one to reach out. They had been the closest on board out of the ground crew. But Garrus had vanished not even a month after the attack. He hadn't even come to the memorial service. Joker was jealous of the resolve. Garrus had taken one look at how little the council was doing about the real issues, quit C-Sec, and gone off the grid.
Of course, the last person he would have expected to hear from was Wrex. So he was extremely surprised when on the anniversary of the Normandy going down, (which was as close to the truth of the tragedy that he allowed himself to think) he woke to an email from Tuchanka that read 'Heard that you're still alive. Good.'
The voice in his head told him to respond. But he had been spending the better part of two months ignoring that voice as it told him to slow down and take better care of himself, so he left the message alone out of spite.
It had been 16 months since the last time he had flown anything he deemed worthy of his time when he got the message.
It was encrypted and sent to his personal ethernet account, two facts that when put together piqued his interest significantly. It was an hour after his shift ended, which meant he was already halfway to passing out into a blissfully dreamless sleep, so he pushed the curiosity out of his mind and told himself he'd decrypt it the next day at work. It's not like they had him doing anything better with his time.
When he got to work the next morning, with his usual hangover and the thoughts of that message pounding in his brain, he was startled by the presence of a very familiar, very annoying person sitting at his desk.
The doctor stood to greet him, squeezing both of his hands gently and asking if he had been keeping up with his exercise routine (he had not) and his medication (whenever he remembered... so no). But once he was seated she quickly switched gears. Apparently she had gotten the message too, and had immediately came over to get him. She hadn't known that he had received one too, but was immensely relieved once she found out.
He asked her what it said. She told him. He called her crazy and gullible. She waited while he decrypted his own copy and read it for himself.
As he read it he could feel something burning it's way up his esophagus. It could have been hope. Or possibly vomit. Probably some combination of the two. By the time he had finished reading what had turned out to be an intensely detailed email including a job offer, some galaxy-shattering news, and a promise to return the most important thing in the world to him (not to mention the opportunity to fly again) he had vacillated between belief and bullshit at least four times. He didn't know what to do. It was everything he had ever refused to let himself hope for, but it was almost impossible to believe.
When Chakwas told him, with no waver in her voice, that she had put in an official request for an indefinite leave of absence, he decided that true or not, he wasn't about to let Chakwas out do him in a show of loyalty. He walked out of his office that afternoon, a full four hours before shift end, and followed Chakwas off station without a second thought.
It wasn't quitting, he told the voice in his head, if he was headed towards more work for the galaxy by her side. And, he continued with a chuckle, it wasn't quitting if he never told his superiors he was leaving.