-Garrus-

She comes to him in the early hours before his shift, set in full armor and guns, as he rolls the wheel back to be secured onto the Mako. Her smirk is wide and coy as she removes her weapons from their holsters and lays them on the ground beside his workstation, away from his tools but close enough to stay out of the way of fellow crewmen.

"Figured you'd be here instead of getting prepped for the Fedele," she says as she nudges him over so that she can help him lift it into the wheel well with a grunt, her little fingers unable to wrap around it and leaving her to merely push against the wider struts of the wheel.

He holds it in place and points towards the impact wrench laying amongst his tools. "Someone has to fix the tank so we don't have to walk everywhere."

He holds out a hand for the tool, but she shakes her head with a pouted lip. "That's why I'm down here helping you." He lifts a brow in question and she shrugs. "I figure that I'm already set up in my gear and you practically sleep in yours, not to mention it'd be a crime to even imagine you with an unkempt rifle, so I might as well use this time to help you with the Mako. I am the one causing the trouble," she admits with an innocent smile, to which he snorts.

"What's the saying? 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'?" he jokes with a nod and motion to come closer. With one of her hands coming up to hold the wheel in place, he frees one of his to flip it on and hand her the metal lug nuts from their position sitting along the well. "Do every other one first, then come back around," he directs as he takes back the weight to free her hand. He glances at her with a flick of his mandible. "I know this may not translate, but just hold it straight, like you would a gun if you're sighting down the barrel."

She smirks at the jab, her eyes concentrating at her task. "Very funny, Vakarian," she says after securing two nuts. "Insult the Vanguard's way of shooting."

"I think it's more your way of shooting. Though, shotguns aren't really what you'd expect for finesse."

She tightens two more, finally letting him relax some of the weight from his arms. "If I was sighting down the barrel of a shotgun, the recoil would knock me out, smarty pants." She leans back and squints at him before a knowing smirk crosses her lips. "Plus, I do hold my gun straight, you're just too distracted looking at my ass in zoom to see it."

He chuckles, glad he had decided this morning to just eat a ration bar in hopes to have extra time to fix the Mako before finding Saleon's ship as it gave the two of them the freedom of an entirely empty cargo hold to flirt in. Most of the crew would be either up in the Mess, catching some breakfast before their duties began, or in their bunks, trying to sleep in just a few more moments or getting dressed.

"I will admit," he purrs in her ear as she sets the impact against the last fastening and a mandible flicks at her light gasp, "it is a nice view."

She swats back at him. "In armor? I doubt that." She cuts off his response with the stuttering sound of metal and hydraulics as she secures the last lug nut with a smirk of her own.

Not to be outdone, Garrus takes a quick look to make sure the pounding of the machine didn't mask the sound of the lift and, seeing that the hold is still clear, shifts up and behind her crouched form. He traps her between his arms and presses his armored chest against her back, his chest thrumming at the soft chuckle she tries to clamp down at the move. "It's rude to interrupt, Jane," he says softly as he nuzzles into the soft skin behind her ear.

"It's the best way to end an argument," she jokes with a pat against one of his forearms in silent order to move, but he persists with a smirk. "Oh? Smart guy, huh?" She looks over her shoulder with a sly smile. "My, my, Officer Vakarian, what would the crew think if they saw this display?"

He snorts. "You think a sniper wouldn't check his surroundings before putting himself in a compromising position?"

A red brow lifts and the corner of her lips spread. "Wrex?" she offers.

Garrus rolls his eyes. "If you remember, I was half frozen and you were the one that lacked the observation skills that night." She mock pouts, her lips puckering in hurt while her eyes shine with amusement, and he leans close again to lick lightly against her cheek. "There, there. I know how to make you feel better," he hums, adding a low growl of seduction to his voice.

"Oh, no you don't," she laughs and shoves him away. He stands with a chuckle and helps her to her feet, taking the impact wrench from her hands so she can reclaim her weapons. He packs his tools away while she finishes and takes a look up at the large ground vehicle.

"I have Ashley talking with Tali and Adams about a reclamation tool for Saleon's ship. You know, one of those things you put into a ship's cockpit console that stalls it without disabling the live support systems so someone can come take it in."

Garrus nods. Though her terminology is off, he knows what she's talking about. In instances where a ship needed to be impounded by C-Sec or taken under military jurisdiction but there was no crew capable to fly it in the immediate vicinity, a transportable VI program could be transferred into the ship. It would maintain safe internal pressure, air supply, and other life support systems as well as keeping it safe, keeping it from falling into any gravitational pulls or drifting from a manageable location.

It isn't used often because there's always a risk of someone on the ship being able to hack into the system and regain their ship or, even worse, pirates or slavers finding the technically defenseless ship and taking advantage. That, however, isn't what causes him pause as he lays a halting hand on his wife's shoulder, causing her to turn with a raised brow and quizzical look in her eyes.

"You aren't planning on letting him go, are you?" He winces at the harshness of his vocals, cursing himself for already letting his hate for the Salarian butcher seep into him even before they docked with his ship.

A flash of confusion crosses her features before it quickly dissipates into understanding as she shakes her head with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Garrus." His hand loosens from her shoulder and she grabs it before he can let it drop back to his side. "This bastard won't get out of our little meeting. I just thought that if the Alliance takes his ship, maybe they can do something about the people he took hostage when he escaped."

He closes his eyes and grips her hand in his, knowing the true meaning in her words. They both know anyone Saleon came in contact with since he escaped is most likely long gone, but he knows she's secretly hoping to give whatever remains of their families some sense of closure. The thought that he'd want to know if he was ever in their place is all that keeps him from considering just blowing the whole ship out of space, so he'll have to settle with taking it out on the doctor.

He feels the soft pressure against his cheek and mandible, the woven texture of her glove so different from her soft skin, and he opens his eyes to see so many of his own emotions running through the green oceans of her eyes. "Hey," she says softly, "It ends here, Garrus. I won't stand in your way, but I need your head in the game." She smiles weakly and stands on her toes to nudge her forehead against his.

He hums in acknowledgment and presses back against her, "I'm behind you, Jane."

She smirks and steps back. "Wanting another chance to look at my ass, huh?" He twitches a mandible in agreement and she snorts. Motioning towards the lockers in silent order to suit up, she steps aside to let him move but still stays by his side as she debriefs him. "Pressley says that what we got from transport officials say he is going by the name Heart." He raises a brow at that and she shrugs. "Yeah, real wise guy… Anyways, manifest reports are sketchy, but it seems like he may be the only occupant on the ship. He didn't claim anyone when he docked for maintain and fuel, but the ship is a small ship, so that didn't raise any suspicions."

"So there's no use hoping we'd find his old employees," he says with dejection as he violently shoves his pistol into his holster. "A bullet is too good for what he deserves."

Jane sighs and leans back against the closed lockers, her eyes lifting to the ceiling of the hold. "He deserves to be cut open and left to bleed to death like he did to others." He looks up with surprise at her vocalization of just what he was imaging in his head and she smiles half-heartedly. "I know you, Garrus. You shouldn't look so surprised that I agree with you." Her smile shifts as she bumps him with her hip. "Though I do like when you get all worked up and growly."

He snorts, looking down the scope of his rifle before collapsing it and latching it to his back. "And you expect me to concentrate…"

She shrugs with a shift of her wrist, an orange glow illuminating in her palm. "Joker," she says into the communications channel she just opened, "what's our status?" She pauses, most likely listening to the pilot on the other side of the connection, before she nods. "Good, dock with the ship and send Ash a hail to meet at the airlock."

He closes his locker just as she turns to him, quickly looking over his gear before nodding and waving towards the lift. "The Fedele isn't responding to any hails. It's silent except for basic functions and a generic distress signal, but there's no sign of forced entry so this bastard should still be here. With hope, he's expecting some rescue and a safe haven, but he's in for a hell of a surprise."

They step into the elevator and he hits the command for the upper level. "But you're expecting trouble, else you wouldn't have suited up in your medium armor." She raises a brow and he taps the armor plating on her upper chest that runs over her neck. "Your light armor doesn't have this protection."

"Huh," she says as she tries to look down at what he pointed out, rapping a gloved knuckle against the smooth polymer. "Didn't think you looked that closely."

"And here you are claiming all I do is look at your rear," he jokes as the lift comes to a rolling stop and he turns to her before the door slide up and open. "Though, I'd prefer you wear medium armor for every mission, not just the ones you think will be dangerous."

She shrugs dismissively, but he catches the smile on her lips that tells him she'll 'consider it'. It isn't the exact response he would've liked, but it's better than her just saying no outright.

They make their way up to the command deck, past the CIC, and meet up with Williams as she's doing last minute checks on her assault rifle. Patting her on the back, Jane moves to hit the entry to the air lock. "Joker, disengage lock until we radio in the okay. We don't know what's in this ship, so I'd rather be safe than sorry." She steps into the airlock and nods at whatever the pilot says over her comm.

"Williams and Vakarian," she says, turning to them as her Omni-Tool lights up, "radio 6." He and the Chief follow her orders, setting their comms onto her frequency and hearing her voice as it echoes through the comm as she directs her attention to Ashley. "Like I said, we're going after a sick son-of-a-bitch who tortured people, but this has a personal connection for Garrus. This bastard slipped out of his hands, so we're taking care of him ourselves."

"This the bastard that cut people open?" the dark haired woman asks to Garrus and frowns at his nod. "Damn, I'd say let me shoot the frog bastard, but I get it…" She doesn't say more and instead turns to his wife with a stern turn to her lips. "Behind you, Skipper."

Green eyes meet his crystal blue and he nods in silent ready before disengaging his assault rifle to the sound of the airlock announcing their entrance into the Fedele. Shotgun up and ready, his mate stalks down the empty entrance hold, each of the three sets of eyes scanning the room and finding no hostile presence.

Coming up to the first doorway, Jane glances out before returning. "Williams, move before Vakarian. We have a hallway before we reach what's most likely the cargo hold. I want staggered approach until we get out in the open."

They each nod their affirmative before she moves around the door and down the hall, aligning herself with the right wall while Ashley follows while staying to the left wall. Being last, along with his height over the two women, he's able to see the entire field ahead down the center of the way and over their shoulders. He watches as the door opens at his mate's vicinity and sees her move to take cover against one of the crates he can see from his position. Williams is next before he too leans against the first crate in the hold with his two human squadmates.

"Fuck, this place is creepy," the Chief whispers.

"I hear you," Jane distractedly responds. Garrus can see her peeking from cover in attempts to see anything, but he can tell from her frustrated face when she turns back that she can't see anything.

He shuts off his comm for a moment and tilts his head, trying to focus his attentions away from their group and across the hold. According to the data they received on this ship, this is the largest section of the ship, a large room to hold supplies with a passage at each end. If someone was going to set an ambush, then this cargo hold is the most strategic place.

He sees a slight movement at his side in what looks like Jane laying a hand on Williams to halt her from saying something. He closes his eyes just as the two turn to him, a question in one woman's eyes while the other smiles, and concentrates for anything other than the hum of engine through the metal of the crates.

The first thing to come to his senses is the soft smell of infection, rot, and he fights his nose plates from flexing, kicking himself to try and focus. Trying to locate the exact location of the smells, he places its origin most likely in this room, but it doesn't seem to be having a signal origin. His brow plates draw down at the familiar smells of blood, as old as it may be, but the most confusing aspect is the knowledge that the blood carried hints of smells not just from one species. He smells the harsh spice of Krogan, the sweetness of human, the oceanic sting of Asari, the bitterness of Salarian, even the metallic familiarity of his own kind, and clenches his fists at the thought of Saleon being the cause of it all.

He almost misses the soft sound that hits his ears through the multitude of metal, his rage nearly deafening him. Opening his eyes in shock, he listens to the soft mumbling and sobbing of someone, their vocalization garbled by fluid. Looking down to the others, he can tell from Ashley that they don't hear it but that Jane sees his change in expression.

"What do you hear, Vakarian?" she whisper-asks, her eyes concerned.

He flicks his comm back on, just in case, and motions with his head towards the noise possibly at the other end of the hold. "It's hard to pinpoint, but there's someone in pain." He clamps his mandibles against his chin to hold in his growl. "There's a lot of blood here, Commander."

She frowns with a nod in understanding. "We figured that," she says in a way that seems more like thought than actual conversation. She inhales deeply and shifts her hold on her gun before glancing to the Chief and then Garrus. "Go back to one-and-two pattern. We're in close quarters so watch your fire if shit heats up. Let's move."

Garrus takes position over her right shoulder as Williams takes her left, keeping her shotgun out instead of switching to her rapid-fire rifle. Traveling through the maze-like structure of crates in the cargo hold and closer to the smells and sounds, Garrus takes note of how some of the crates lay open, their contents nothing more than matted down piles of shredded bedding material and the noxious smell of rotting waste. Wordlessly, he watches as Jane motions to each with a head tilt and look over her shoulder, a troubled look in her eyes and nods in silent agreement, something is horribly wrong about this.

Coming around the last crate and out into an open area at the end of the hold, all three of the soldiers stutter to a stop at the sight before them. Huddled in a group, shaking and making weak noises of pain, are about ten figures. Though it's hard to tell from the severe mutilation done to them, the group seems to include at least four Turians, two Asari, and four humans. Most of them are turned away, their hands at their mouths as they seem to be eating at something.

Hearing the soft gasp through their comm from the Chief, Garrus looks to his wife to see her biting her lip, her eyes shifting over the forms as she desperately searches for how to move forward. He whips his head back to the group before them at a gasped cry to see one of the Asari being grabbed by the other, her eyes tearing and widening in panic as the others shift attentions to her trapped form, low growls and mumbles falling from their bloodied lips.

Startled into action and in unison, the three soldiers snap out of their shock and move forward, rising barrels up as Jane commands. "Hey, knock that shit off!"

Instantly, the Asari is dropped to the ground and all nine sets of eyes turn to their group, the sounds of the Turian's vocal shifting in Garrus' ears. He heard the growls when they circled the Asari, the growls associated with madness in his kind, a violent state of mind that can't be saved, and he knows Jane has no clue what she's trying, fruitlessly, to talk sense into. The humans and Asari, now including the one tossed aside, he thinks they can manage, but they aren't a match in the open as he catches the Turians slow to fall behind the others.

With a sound scream- part fear, part pain, part anger- the humans and Asari take to a run. Acting on instinct, Garrus watches Jane force out a throw into the group before jerking the two women towards another opening that'll lead them back into the maze of crates. Ashley's eyes narrow in anger, but she doesn't speak as she instead shifts her attention back to the advancing horde, shooting blasts of her shotgun into their unarmored bodies. Jane, perhaps trusting his intentions, doesn't shift her attention from the field, lifting what she can while shooting those that get through.

"Shit, theses crazy fuckers take a lot of hits," Williams grunts out as she switches her overheated shotgun for her assault rifle. Garrus fires into the crowd to cover her, but tries to keep his focus for any potential ambush from the four Turians that managed to get lost in their hectic move to better cover.

"They don't feel pain, Ash." Jane's face is flush and she's panting from her use of biotics to try and control the crowd. "Head shot them when you get a chance," she orders as she shoves the barrel of her rifle under the chin of a human missing his nose and pulls the trigger, splattering the others with a mist of blood and brain matter.

Hearing the soft echoes of growls over the gunfire, Garrus decides this fight is putting them in a position too dangerous and for far too long for his liking and grabs Jane on the shoulder as she's charging a throw. He shoves her back at the same time as he steps before her, shooting from the hip into the charging Asari and hitting her with his rifle's rapid-fire, getting hit in the neck, another shot taking off her nose, and the third and fourth piercing her forehead.

"What the hell, Vakarian!" Williams demands with a shove. "They teach you to disrespect your commander's in the Hierarchy."

He ignores her and turns to Jane, a low hum of agitation in his chest. "We need to move. This position in compromised."

Her eyes widen for a split moment in understanding before she nods. She grips her gun and starts her way out towards the door, the only direction they can go that won't be like walking straight into four predator's kill zone. "Do you have any lead on them, Garrus?"

There is a small crate before the door and they take cover behind it, not willing to go through the entry and create the perfect trap for the four hunters. He switches to his sniper rifle, the scope equipped with better scanning technology than his visor, in hopes that it can pick up at least some of the Turians' signatures through the dense crates. Scanning the hold, he catches only a signal heat signature in the middle of the hold, directly in front while still being out of visual. "I got one, but that's it."

"Shit," she groans and rubs her head in frustration. "Listen to me." He glances down and actually sees that searching look he hasn't been witness to since they started this entire subordinate / commander role on the Normandy. "I know you know what's going on here. I need you to tell me what the hell we're dealing with."

Wincing at the fact that he'll not only have to remind his wife that he's from a predator species, but also he less that xeno-friendly crewmate, Garrus scans the three entrances to the crate tunnels one more time before answering. "I guess it's pretty obvious to say that all of these people aren't sane anymore. I don't know how to tell with the Asari or humans besides the fact that they attacked us, even trying to bite at us when they got too close, but the Turians aren't… aren't normal."

Jane frowns and her throat bobs as she swallows. "There's no way of saving them, is there?"

He nods, his eyes no longer watching her in efforts to keep aware. Surprisingly, Williams leans around the opposite end of the crate and takes a similar position of watch as he has. "Tell me what we're looking for, Vakarian," she says. "No use only one of us watching for the crazy fucks."

"They have the only way out blocked off. They are staying out of our hearing range so that we can't track their movements. Coincidently, that puts them so far behind the crates that our sensors can't track them either." He grunts at the fact, cursing inwardly how nothing seems to work in their favor. "They barely outnumber us, so they won't attack us head on. They are relying on us to either enter the crates in search for them, stay here until we grow complacent, or take the door so they can move up."

"Apex predators, huh?" Jane jokes with a depreciative laugh. "Remind me not to play a game of hide-and-seek with you." She steps around the crate and scans the area of open space between them and the hidden Turians. "I have an idea, but you two probably aren't going to like it."

He growls, but Ashely's protest covers it. "You got to be shitting me, ma'am."

"We have enough of that for me to be adding to it," she responds without moving her eyes from the field. "See those canisters by that open crate?" She motions with her shotgun at a crate directly in front of their location. "I don't know much, but I know that the little blue insignia on them mean they are used to cryo-freeze shit." She throws a grin at them. "I need you two to cover me while I drag those things over here with my biotics."

"Meaning you're going to put yourself in the open and hope they aren't crazy enough to charge you." He tries to clamp down on the growl in his vocals, making his remark seem more sarcastic than letting the Chief hear just how stupid his thinks this idea is.

"I'm certainly not going to try and wait them out." She frowns while locking her shotgun to her back. "Just cover my back, Vakarian."

His grip on his rifle tightens, but he bites back his response, instead giving a slight nod in understanding of her order. It's not like he wants to wait out his own people turned feral in the crates, but he certainly doesn't want his mate standing out in the open, occupied and somewhat defenseless, while she tries to form her biotics to pull a cryo-canister. Saleon will pay for what he's done plus putting me in this position of watching my wife stupidly tempt death at the hands of maniacs from my own species.

Glowing blue, Jane takes a deep breath before stretching her arms out before her, engulfing the canisters with the same aura. Closing her fingers and pulling her arms towards her chest, almost as if pulling an invisible rope, she starts to gradually pull the object across the blood stained floor. Garrus knows she's going slowly because this is only the second time using her biotics for a gentle task, so he shifts his attention away from the sight of her and towards the room, changing from looking at his visor to his scope in attempts to catch any movement.

Over the rattling scrape of metal across metal and the occasional scrape of the canister tracking through something more organic, Garrus picks up the soft rumbling of vocals, harmonics distant but similar to those used in military commands, and his mandible's twitch in realization. Acting quickly and not really caring what the reprimand may be, he takes out of cover, raising his rifle in the direction of the most prominent vocals and taking a shot.

He doesn't see his shot stagger a copper plated Turian, the shard of projectile hitting its shoulder, as he forgoes cover to stand by Jane. Tactics won't work here and he's damn sure he's not going to take cover while she stands out here like an idiot with a death wish. Throwing his rifle to the ground, he jerks Jane's shotgun from her waist and sends an Overload at the canisters still by the crate, flicking a mandible at the pained hiss of whatever was moving forward through the shadows.

In a sound of gunfire and buzzing biotics, he catches Jane lift a dark plated Turian into the air while Williams doesn't hesitate to put as many bullets before overheating into its plated skull. Ignoring them, he sees a female Turian charge, her mandibles spread and vocals screeching, and cringes at the thought that she was probably once beautiful with her rare red plating, but doesn't falter to slam the butt of Jane's shotgun against her nose plates to stun her. She stumbles with a hiss before he shoves the barrel against her muzzle and pulls the trigger, turning his head away with a frown.

Too late, he hears the heavy footsteps coming up from his side. He has enough time in that split second to turn, vaguely register copper plates with red – either colony paint or blood, he's unsure- and lament that he doesn't have the time to raise the gun before the Turian is thrown in a blast of cold air. "Get away from him, you fucking asshole!" his wife screams out to the sound of the Chief's gunfire, her chest heaving.

She approaches as the din of assault rifle dies, looking down to the copper Turian as it keens in pain to the harsh cold that clings to his facial plates, freezing the organic plates beyond repair. From the looks of it, she managed to hit him right in the side of the neck and head with the cryo-canister. She pulls out her pistol with a frown, crouches down, and puts a clean shot through the side of his head. "An end to your suffering," she whispers to the still body with a heavy sigh.

Garrus' hums in shared sympathy. None of these people deserved this, to become something feral, mad. He's never known a reason for the saying 'less than human' until now, and it fits despite the species. He lays a hand on his wife's shoulder, a soft rumble of understanding, of unspoken assurance that the one who did this will pay. He doesn't know if it's more for her or him, though.

She nods and pulls herself up, taking her shotgun from his hands to lock back onto her back. The Chief approaches, his rifle in her hands, and offers it offer, to which he takes with silent thanks. "All hostiles accounted for, ma'am," she offers with a defeated look.

"Right," Jane acknowledges. "Let's find Saleon, or Heart, and make the bastard pay for what he's done here."

He growls his agreement as the Chief gives a stern nod, neither all that willing to want to stay much longer in this ship of pain and torture. Jane leads them through the door into a passageway, a door directly before them the logical location of the cockpit while two doors sit at either side.

"Garrus, you visor picking up anything through the walls that I'm not seeing?" He grunts a negative and she nods, then points with her left hand towards the cockpit. Williams, understanding the direction, moves forward. "Williams, set up that VI link while Garrus and I deal with Saleon. I want off this damn ship the moment we kill the fucker."

"Aye, ma'am." The cockpit doors swing open and the last they see of the Chief is her back as she bends under the main command console to begin patching in the impound VI.

"Garrus," she looks to him over her shoulder. "We need to make sure it's him, first. Once we have an affirmation, you can nail his ass to the wall, airlock him, or cut him up to pieces for all I care."

He growls at the thought of the sweet torture he could do to the slippery son of a bitch for all of the horrors he did to those people back in the hold, but he knows they still have a job to do, a soldier with them that could ask too many questions, so he will have to deal with just handling this with a bullet. "I understand. Lead the way."

Stepping into the first medbay, they find nothing but a grimy lab table and the strong smell of death. Not even bothering to enter, Jane slams a fist on the command console, locking the room away and trapping the smells inside to fester for the Alliance. Leaving only one room left, she looks to him and he gives her a quick nod, a silent assurance that he understands the plan.

Doors swing open to another lab, this one partially clean except for the strong smell of cleaning chemicals that fail to completely mask the smells of blood. Standing amidst the medical machines that most likely have never done anything remotely to saving lives is a Salarian, dark brown at the tips of his crest that descends to a lighter red at his chin and neck. One eye is milky from age and his skin is wrinkled and dry, having lost the moisture of youth. Even if the man has gained some new creases to his face, Garrus would recognizes him anywhere, Saleon.

"Thank you, thank you," he calls out in panic, not noticing Jane's narrowed eyes or Garrus' low growl. "Thank you from saving me from those things. I was transporting some medical cargo and I had no idea what was inside."

"Commander," Garrus growls, knowing there comms are still connected to the Chief.

"This Saleon?" She glances over while motioning her head to the Salarian and Garrus nods, a look of steel in his eyes to match the loathing pulsing in his harmonics.

"Saleon? No, no. My name is Heart." Saleon puts his hands to his chest. "Please, my name is Doctor Heart. Please, get me out of here."

Jane shakes her head with a glare, making Garrus' shift his finger to lay alongside the trigger of his gun. "There's no escape this time, Doctor," he assures with a growl as Jane takes a subtle step to the side in silent offer to let him move up. "I'd harvest your organs while you're still alive or let you go mad with hunger, but we don't have the time."

"You're crazy," he gasps in horror, black and milky eyes widening as he turns a panicked expression to Jane. "He's crazy." He points an accusing finger and flinches at the growl that rolls off Garrus' tongue in response. "Please, don't let him do this to me. I don't even know what he's talking about!"

Jane shakes her head, her eyes dark. "You don't understand, Doctor. This isn't up for debate." She looks to Garrus. "Send him over, let those he tortured deal with him on the other side."

Despite the odd phrasing, Garrus knows her meaning and raises his pistol, watching the sudden look of realization cross the doctor's face. He catches the old man trying to pull his own firearm from his hip, but it's a fleeting moment as Garrus puts the small amount of pressure his trigger needs and sends a shard of metal right between the doctor's eyes. Saleon falls, the look of horror at his end permanently etched into his features with the added addition of a green, seeping wound between his now blind eyes.

"Your days of butchering people are over," he says to no one, his growl dying and leaving his body tired. Killing the bastard felt good, but he if had managed to catch him long ago, those bodies in the cargo hold could have been avoided.

Jane puts a hand on his shoulder and motions to turn off his comm, which he does. "You gave all of them peace," she says as if she could hear his thoughts.

He runs a finger along her jaw. "I had hoped we wouldn't be forced to see something on this ship even worse than organ harvesting." He drops his head and feels her press her own in a silent offering of strength. "I had hoped my failure at catching on the Citadel wouldn't lead to more death of innocent people."

He feels a huff of her breath against his plates and his eyes fall closed. "Someone once told me," the soft sound of her voice barely above a whisper finally speaks through the fog in his head, "we can't torture ourselves with guilt over something we could have never predicted, over things we cannot change." His fists clench at his sides, one around his pistol and making the metal emit a small creak. "Do you know who that someone was?"

He pulls from her and glares down at the small body at his feet. He knows she'd remember that and bring it up one day, but he'd didn't actually think he'd be the one to face his own lecture. Two warm arms loop around his torso and the weight of his wife's head lays against his back, causing the growl he hadn't known start stutter to a stop in his throat.

"Garrus, he won't hurt anyone anymore." One hand drops to his free hand and squeezes it. "I know the fucker deserved worse, I wish I could have given you that time, but he's gone now. Those he tortured are safe and no one will fall under his knife again."

He sighs, knowing she's right. At least he can tell himself that he closed the case, making sure no one would suffer at the hands of this butcher. Feeling the tension lessen from his shoulders, Jane releases him and turns away, her boots moving back towards the exit before stopping in silent question. With a snarl, Garrus fires another bullet into the Salarian's head, wishing that the man could have felt it from beyond the grave.

Turning back to his mate, he shakes his head at the silent inquiry in her emerald eyes, happy that she agrees to drop with a stern nod. Meeting Ashley in the hallway, she assures the Alliance knows of the Fedele and will be in route to retrieve it, ensuring that what happened here will be known.