"Another one."

"Another? Sir, that'll be your… Quite frankly, I lost count of how much you've been drinking."

He waves off the bartender's concern. If he was sober enough to hear and understand it, he could still drink a little more.

The bartender slides another glass to him, his head shaking. Clearly, this guy's got problems. Not sure if drinking was the best way to handle it, but what does he know? All sorts of people of all sorts of species have problems and often times they agreed that drinking was one way of forgetting they existed at least. For this Turian to be drinking so much while in uniform, he could only assume it was either the war efforts, some form of PTSD, or a loved one.

Another customer takes a seat next to the Turian. He notices his slightly lame walk and nods; this was the famous pilot flying the Normandy, Jeff. Stories were told about the Normandy, its crew, and their commander who made this peace possible. The man slides a glass of his best brandy to the man. "For the man who flew the old Normandy."

"Thanks." He grins. As the bartender left to take care of the other customers, Joker says "Maybe I should do more heroics if it means more free booze." He turns to the man next to him. "Wow. I didn't know Turians could actually look shitfaced."

"Not now, Jeff." He groans. Spirits, his head is spinning and it could be from the booze, lack of sleep, or something else. His head drops as he leans over the table, his environment spinning.

Joker gulps down his drink in one go, slamming the glass onto the concrete tabletop. The bar is sheltered in the remains of one of the fallen buildings, using concrete slabs as tables and rubble rearranged into furniture. There isn't a roof, but hey, they could finally see the starry night sky now. He then looks at Garrus. "So you didn't have time for our commander – your girlfriend – and now you don't have time to deal with me."

Garrus groans again, swirling the liquid in the glass. "Not. Now." He growls. "Look, I'm not in any mood to talk."

"The hell? Earlier when I said we were heading to Earth, you were ready to jump the airlock if it meant getting there faster. Then as soon as we land, you go and look through files to figure out where Shepard was and never even came to visit her once in the week we've been here. You've been coming back late either buzzed or looking like shit and it's just… That's not like you, Garrus. Everyone's worried." Pause. "And… She's been asking about you. Heck, I think it's practically the only thing she asks about now." As quickly as he sees the memory of Shepard's face at the absence of Garrus, he shakes it off, turning his attention back to the shitfaced Turian.

And he has no answer. Instead, Garrus asks for another drink to which the bartender hesitantly obliges. Silence falls between the two with Garrus mindlessly staring into his liquor and Joker folding his hands together, leaning over the table shaking his head.

Then the Turian decides to speak. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he's just ready to spill his heart out and a year's worth of silence out to the next person who asked. "I… I can't bear it." He starts. "Joker, it's been a year. Last time I saw her, she was barely conscious. She didn't even look like her. Seeing her like that was one of the most painful things I had to do. One year later, no messages. No news about her. No news from her. All I had were her cabin and that picture from the party." He takes a swig, letting the booze burn as it makes way to his stomach. "Why? I want to know why she hasn't talked any of us. To me! Before the final fight, we talked. Thought about retirement. Life together. Maybe even kids. So why?"

"Why the silence?" Joker turns to him, leaning on table. "Well. Since when has the Commander asked us to worry about her? She won't say it, but she sure as hell doesn't want her men fussing over her and stopping in the middle of a job to just visit her." He gives him half a grin. "Or maybe she's mad about that last minute insubordination and this is her way of putting you in the doghouse."

"Very funny."

"Thanks. I try pretty hard." He takes another shot. "But seriously, I shouldn't even have to tell you all this. You're not in good shape, she's not in good shape so go help each other out and visit her. Garrus, she's alive. You thought you were going to lose but you didn't." Joker stands up and pays for the drinks. "Look, I can't make you go see the love of your life. But I can at least try and guilt you into it. Besides, you know what's true." He looks back after a few steps. "It's true. There's no Shepard without Vakarian."

Garrus sits up at that.

"Yeah. That's right. I heard ya. We all know about the words that should've been left in your little love nest." And with that, he limps out the door for a good night's rest.

Garrus didn't even turn to watch the pilot leave. Instead he returns to the burning comforts of alcohol. Or tries to. In truth the alcohol's only comfort is the film reel of his time with Shepard over the last few years. It indulges him in her softness and lets him relive her kind and playful gestures. It would remind him of their promises and tenderness between each other.

It would let him remember everything about Shepard without the heartache.

Nothing felt right about leaving Shepard to run into the final charge alone. He cursed himself for managing to get critically injured just before reaching the beam and he still does now. He wanted to protect her that night or die trying. The day they found her, Garrus had never been more relieved. Tearing open his wounds while searching for her was worth it at the time. And it still is worth it. He could never get that image of her out of his head though. All the blood and open wounds and burns that ravaged her body. And through some miracle she lived to see the next day and apparently the next year. They both wouldn't have gone through so much pain if he had just gone with her he decided.

The bartender approaches the Turian, sliding him a glass of water. Must've overheard the conversation since he had this understanding look on his face. "It's ah… Probably not my place to say, but if you couldn't have gone to her before, maybe you should go with her now."

Garrus glances at the glass of water then back at the green swill in his hand. Joker has point. And this guy too. He didn't want to admit it, but in the midst of everything he had been running starting from that first visit to the hospital. Garrus couldn't bear to look at Shepard in her state. Not when she could barely see herself. And just like how Shepard never messaged any of them about her current status, he never found it in himself to message her. The excuse was that she needed to pour her efforts into recovering, not sending messages out. Spirits, he is not the brightest Turian he mentally declared.

He takes the glass of water and raises it.

"To Garrus Vakarian. Codename: Archangel, former C-Sec officer, and one crap boyfriend."