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She can’t bring herself to call him. Being labeled a traitor and held under house arrest is aggravating enough, but the silence is maddening. They’re waiting for her to crack, to admit that she’s been blinded by the benefits of being a Spectre, that she faked her own death to escape the Council. They’re studying every moment of her life to discover the exact point wherein she was indoctrinated, where she was tricked into believing in the monsters under her bed. She wants to scream.
But she can’t. She’s Commander Shepard. Hero of the Citadel. Savior of the Galaxy. Last Bastion of Humanity. Caving in to the agony would eliminate all credibility she’d built up for her crew. And crying on his shoulder would shatter that image.
She stares out the window and waits.
They’re coming.