video; I know, I know I've let you down...
[[OOC: Slightly forward-dated. Cut/warning for death/mature subject matter/suicide.]]
[This particular video goes out over the network relatively soon after this wraps up. A few hours, tops. This happened in the interim. Garrus is huddled in one corner of a relatively generic looking room. A bit of a windowsill can be seen beyond one shoulder. For all of the armor and weapons and sheer confidence the turian usually projects, right now he's just a huddled, miserable little ball. His rifle is canted askew against the window, leaning out of the frame and his head is clutched in his hands as he mutters quietly - apparently to himself. He'll mutter a sentence or two, then stop as if listening. Finally, he looks up and acknowledges the camera he's turned on, voice shaky.]
...they're all here now. Along with Shepard. All of them. Even Sidonis. I don't... I don't know where they came from, but-
[He stops, head canting as he listens to a voice only he can hear.]
I... I know. I'll take care of it, alright? Just... just let me-
They... they want me to make it up to them. Omega. Letting her die on the Normandy. Maybe I should. I-
I should. I don't deserve this. I led them all to their deaths and I thought killing Sidonis would make everything better, but-
[He goes quiet again, cradling his head in one hand.]
I can't do this anymore. I can't keep ignoring them. Mom - I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never was a very good turian.
[For a very long moment he stares down at the pistol in his lap and then in one smooth motion he picks it up and presses the barrel under his chin, eyes focusing on someone out of frame.]
I hope it sticks this time.
[He squeezes the trigger, there's a sharp report and there's a blue-gray smear all over the wall behind him as his lifeless body slumps.
Seeing as he really was alone, the camera keeps rolling. There's no sound; no movement. Just a corpse.]
[This particular video goes out over the network relatively soon after this wraps up. A few hours, tops. This happened in the interim. Garrus is huddled in one corner of a relatively generic looking room. A bit of a windowsill can be seen beyond one shoulder. For all of the armor and weapons and sheer confidence the turian usually projects, right now he's just a huddled, miserable little ball. His rifle is canted askew against the window, leaning out of the frame and his head is clutched in his hands as he mutters quietly - apparently to himself. He'll mutter a sentence or two, then stop as if listening. Finally, he looks up and acknowledges the camera he's turned on, voice shaky.]
...they're all here now. Along with Shepard. All of them. Even Sidonis. I don't... I don't know where they came from, but-
[He stops, head canting as he listens to a voice only he can hear.]
I... I know. I'll take care of it, alright? Just... just let me-
They... they want me to make it up to them. Omega. Letting her die on the Normandy. Maybe I should. I-
I should. I don't deserve this. I led them all to their deaths and I thought killing Sidonis would make everything better, but-
[He goes quiet again, cradling his head in one hand.]
I can't do this anymore. I can't keep ignoring them. Mom - I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never was a very good turian.
[For a very long moment he stares down at the pistol in his lap and then in one smooth motion he picks it up and presses the barrel under his chin, eyes focusing on someone out of frame.]
I hope it sticks this time.
[He squeezes the trigger, there's a sharp report and there's a blue-gray smear all over the wall behind him as his lifeless body slumps.
Seeing as he really was alone, the camera keeps rolling. There's no sound; no movement. Just a corpse.]