Sorry for another short update, guys! I'm currently going to a convention and I've been getting back late at night. So, unfortunately, you'll have to deal with short chapters or no chapters. However, I did manage to get this done for tonight!

xoxo

THR

Chapter 14

Your name is Garrus Vakarian and you were starting to recall why you didn't care for bars.

Back when you were in C-Sec, it was easy to get lost in a place like Purgatory. You had done it multiple times, as a matter of fact.

Being hypnotized by mesmerizing Asari as their cool bodies flowed in every direction was what had led to these previous events that had occurred while you were still employed with a proper job. Then, with the addition of a few drinks, you laughed and let loose with a few officers while you were on your break. Cat-calling, dancing and hopping on the bar were just a few of the many scandalous activities you had once engaged in while intoxicated.

You were different now, though.

You weren't sure if helping to save the world had an impact on your perceptions.

Maybe you were just getting old or perhaps the Asari had lost their touch.

You didn't feel compelled to become intoxicated after Shepard left. Instead, you stayed behind with a watchful eye. Seeing Joker wasn't a priority; you had always suspected that the kid had a loose screw in his head. Before dealing with the Reapers, though, you had dropped your animosity towards him. And, as much as you didn't want to admit it, he told some pretty good racial jokes.

You wanted to let Shepard have her proper reunion alone, though. If she was going to assimilate into society again, you weren't going to hold her hand. On multiple occasions she had made it obvious that she didn't want your help with anything.

She wanted to independently reach the Reaper Conduit in London. She never wanted help typing up mission reports, nor did she ever care for having others simply cook for her. Liz Shepard was an autonomous being and nobody was about to stop her.

She might not be as fierce or bitchy this time around, but you figured that she could cope. After all, she had taken down Reapers, Collectors and everything else that had been thrown at her. What else was left?

You glanced around the club, eying a group of Turians and a single purple Asari dancing near them. They looked like C-Sec from what you could tell, and you suddenly harked back to your own times of off cuty escapades. Times like that had been fun. You didn't have to care about much; at the most, you had a job, a family back on Palaven and a girlfriend if you were lucky.

You began to wonder how you had gained so many other priorities now. Getting drunk and joy riding in a sky car was nothing compared to staying on the sidelines and having some quiet target practice at home. Instead of beverages with a high alcohol content, you experimented by adding different amounts of sugar in your dextro-coffee. It felt like you had turned into an old man over the period of three years.

Perhaps you were yearning to be calmer after suffering through the living hell that was the Reaper War. Stability was what you were looking for, not disruptions and chaos. Sure, it was nice to be in combat once in a blue moon.

However, you could only take so much before you would begin to feel the onsets of the same unhinged symptoms that Shepard sometimes had.

You turned your attention away from the Turians and focused on the flashing lights, which blinked all around you in glorious patterns. The way the lights refracted everywhere entranced you. Flickers of yellow, green, blue and purple flickered on the skins of everyone in the massive club. Everyone and everything was packed together and surged with the music. Bodies melted together to form one unit: a crowd. The DJ controlling the music served as their temporarily god. He was a human, to your surprise, and the way girls sauntered over to his platform was sickening. With their dresses pulled up and their cleavage showing (if they had any), they batted their eyelashes and acted like the man was their very own deity.

Your hand went to your chin and you began to stride into the club. Some people that must have known you threw some harsh glowers your way, signaling that you still had a presence on the Citadel. This had already been affirmed by your C-Sec visit, but the fact that people still knew of you was touching in all of the wrong ways.

While pushing past them, you bumped into various people with your armor. This elicited complaints from women in immoral clothing. Shepard was in sight, and you were involuntarily walking over to her. The look on her face was a bit abnormal. Before, she had never been one to space out or not acknowledge you while you were speaking. From what you could tell, though, she was ignoring Joker entirely. You could tell that he was rattling on about an unknown subject, much to your displeasure.

Her hands went to the dog tags again, and you shook your head in silence. She was obsessed with those damn things and you knew exactly why. She was trying to hold on to what she once had.

Feelings of depression and desperation clung to her like paparazzi. Memories and unpleasant flashbacks probably plagued her too.

These were the symptoms of a human disorder known as "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder". You had read about it in books and figured out that it occurred in some soldiers who had been discharged. The mental records of war scarred them in every way, shape and form. Never again could they live life normally. Even if they could, it would always be complicated.

The abbreviation "PTSD" had been written everywhere on Shepard's medical files. When you thought of this, you were also able to recall the real reason why you were in the bar.

You were supposed to tell Shepard about why she was even incarcerated in her own home.

That was most likely a topic that would ruin her coming out party. Your original intentions were obviously forgotten.

Once you reached the bar, there was a small fragment of space left for you to stand. The good thing about this was that it was behind your former commander.

The bad news was that your crotch was pressed against her behind the entire time.

When you got in place, your talon touched her shoulder. Her tall frame didn't flinch; instead, it turned around with a sincere smile.

"Look who decided to join the party a little late." she said, her voice congenial and refreshing. This woman could change her mood on a dime. Now she was as happy as could be when she had seemed depressed a minute prior.

Joker poked his head in your direction and offered his free hand. You noted the cast and remembered why you had felt sympathy towards him in the first place. Vrolik Syndrome was a bitch.

Without much emotion, you shook his hand with a firm but gentle grip.

"Nice to see you again, Garrus. You didn't get a stick stuck up your ass again, did you? Either way, I'm glad I ran into you two."

You chose not to comment on his little remark. As harsh as it was, you couldn't help but laugh a little. It was true; you were rigid and regimented and you loved things that way. It was a Turian stereotype which you happened to fit.

"No, I remember I stuck it back up yours back on the Normandy. How've you been?"

Being congenial wasn't a talent of yours. However, Joker had started to grow on you back when you were on duty. You wanted to give him another chance.

You then realized that he hadn't changed that much. He was still a little short and covered his full, scraggly head of hair underneath an N7 cap. His stature was muscular despite his physical handicaps, but not even close to how beefy James had been. Joker's stubble looked unkempt to you, and you then began to wonder what you would do with such facial hair.

"I've been good, man. Just, y'know, putting EDI back together."

You hadn't expected this response from him.

"EDI? I thought the Reaper takeout got rid of everything?"

He paused and looked at Shepard, who had turned blank. Why was she so animus towards the Crucible firing and Reaper destruction?

"I've got her backups on a hard drive and she's vegging out on my computer back at my apartment. I was wondering if I could recruit the two of you for a project with her. I mean, it wouldn't be much, but I need the technological expertise-"

Shepard looked at you with pleading eyes. You knew that she had already said yes.

At this rate, she would do anything to get closer to what she had before. Despite the stress, she wanted it all back.

You soon abandoned your original prospects and led your other two former crew members out of the bar. As you left, the table of Turians looked at you.

"Hey, isn't that Garrus? I heard he's an uptight ass."

"Shit man, you think? I thought he fucked Shepard and saved the universe."

"Nah, he couldn't do that. One of my partners down at the Zakera Station said that he was a huge pussy. He's the best sniper in the galaxy, though."

"I bet I'd do better."

You saw Shepard turn around violently. She had heard them.

Oh no.

This wasn't happening.

Not now.

Your name is Garrus Vakarian, and you were preparing yourself for a petty bar fight.