He sees Dr. Saleon's ship escaping, captive employees in tow. He's angry, furious at the fact that this monster gets to walk away free. Saleon could change his name, work the fringes of the galaxy, and it would take years to find him again - provided anyone even cared enough to look. He felt powerless, weighed down by the badge he carried to the point that he was utterly useless. People would die because his hands were tied.
He sees the Normandy burning, and again, he feels powerless. The Normandy's weapons had been knocked out in the opening salvo - no chance to even squeeze off a single shot in retaliation. Maybe if he had been faster, he could have made a difference. Probably not - he knew that - 'what if' are the two most dangerous words in any language. What if he'd gotten that shot off? What if he'd gone with Shepard? Would she have made it out?
He sees his squadmates lying on the ground in his safehouse on Omega, their blood pooling on the ground. They were dead because of him. He knew that. If it weren't for him and his stupid crusade, they'd still be alive. He could get even. He could make the mercenaries who did it bleed. But he could never fix it. Their blood was on his hands, and he'd never be able to make things right.
He saw Sidonis down the scope of his rifle - head hung, dead inside. He'd wanted to kill this broken, pathetic man. He'd wanted it more than almost anything, but seeing him there ...? Garrus saw the truth and he knew how blinded he'd been with his own anger. Sidonis wasn't innocent, but he wasn't the traitor that Garrus had built in his mind. He didn't deserve to die, but Garrus had almost put him to death.
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He sees Dr. Saleon's ship escaping, captive employees in tow. He's angry, furious at the fact that this monster gets to walk away free. Saleon could change his name, work the fringes of the galaxy, and it would take years to find him again - provided anyone even cared enough to look. He felt powerless, weighed down by the badge he carried to the point that he was utterly useless. People would die because his hands were tied.
He sees the Normandy burning, and again, he feels powerless. The Normandy's weapons had been knocked out in the opening salvo - no chance to even squeeze off a single shot in retaliation. Maybe if he had been faster, he could have made a difference. Probably not - he knew that - 'what if' are the two most dangerous words in any language. What if he'd gotten that shot off? What if he'd gone with Shepard? Would she have made it out?
He sees his squadmates lying on the ground in his safehouse on Omega, their blood pooling on the ground. They were dead because of him. He knew that. If it weren't for him and his stupid crusade, they'd still be alive. He could get even. He could make the mercenaries who did it bleed. But he could never fix it. Their blood was on his hands, and he'd never be able to make things right.
He saw Sidonis down the scope of his rifle - head hung, dead inside. He'd wanted to kill this broken, pathetic man. He'd wanted it more than almost anything, but seeing him there ...? Garrus saw the truth and he knew how blinded he'd been with his own anger. Sidonis wasn't innocent, but he wasn't the traitor that Garrus had built in his mind. He didn't deserve to die, but Garrus had almost put him to death.
What was wrong with him?