Dear Garrus,
care to join me on my forced holiday? The accommodation is not big but the two of us could squeeze in and there is a wonderful broad view if you want to train some sniping. I just hope you won't mind sharing a bunk with a dangerous psycho who freaks out next to any tech...
"- and as we all know, post-traumatic stress disorder seriously affects the cognitive functions, often leading to the development of psychosis and paranoia. Commander Shepard's exposure to further traumatizing events featuring a technologically advanced enemy instilled a deep-rooted fear of technology leading to the delusion of a synthetic super-enemy, the so-called 'Reapers', which have become the embodiment of the Commander's fear that must be fought at all costs, hence inhibiting his moral constraints and empathy -"
As the psychological mumbo jumbo goes on and on, Shepard lets his attention stray again.
Dear Samara,
I cannot even distantly express how thankful I am for your lessons of meditations, because without them, I'd be cray-cray in a fortnight even more than they claim I am. I wonder what your justicar codes might say about being put through such crap. I might even actually -
He checks himself. No, actually he doesn't feel any better about the terrorism charges. Ashley never looked into his eyes as she was relaying their encounter on Horizon, 'in the presence of Cerberus operatives'. He could only be grateful that she presented just facts, not any conclusions that she had jumped to.
"- historical examples of delusions that reached the magnitude which became dangerous for the society have repeatedly been associated with -"
Yeah. Whatever.
Dear Kasumi,
heard this one? A Reaper, a Cerberus guy and a psychiatrist walk into a bar ...
Through the sessions and hearings, the fun letters that he is never going to write are a good distraction. At nights, when he lies awake, there are others circling in his mind that he will never confide to writing.
Dear mom,
I'm so sorry that I'm putting you through this all...
But in his mind, his mother's grey eyes never waver, just like never has her support and love, and he wishes to talk to her merely to calm and vent his fears, to have someone who trusts in him unconditionally, at least for once. It's the other letters that lie heavy on his conscience, ones that he did write, and he had EDI remove every single track that they ever existed before he turned himself in. At nights, he recreates every single line etched in his memory, in endless variations.
I'm an ass. Please forgive me. I love you. I love you, Jack, and I miss you.