Hackett is sending him warning glances, but Anderson's too angry to care.
He feels sick. He hates Hackett for agreeing to this. He hates himself for agreeing to this.
Shepard's smoking a cigarette, something he's learned she only does when she feels helpless. The first time he sees her do it, it's after Torfan, when people start to call her Butcher instead of Shepard. Her hands shake. She clenches her fists to stop them and she crushes her cigarette by accident. It's an expensive brand, but Vega tells him she's got more stashed away in her room.
Vega tells him a lot of things. He tells him she works out until she's sick. She's broken so many punching bags that she's not allowed to use the weight room anymore. He tells him she sits in her room and stares out her big window, her eyes white while blue eezo static crawls slowly across her skin.
He tells him she smokes often, her gaze glassy and faraway.
Her dog tags are heavy in his pocket.
The other Councilors are present, their orange holographs flickering along the wall. Valern is staring at Shepard as she begins to pace. She's dressed in fatigue bottoms and a standard-issue tank, and Anderson knows it's the first time the Councilor has seen the macabre graffiti of Lazarus. Her arms are piebald, patches of her original skin still bright with tattoos connected by seams of glowing red scars to patches of flawless, unmarred flesh. Anderson sees more scars shining through the fabric of her top, and he feels queasy.
Hackett puts a hand on his shoulder as Shepard and the asari sit down.
They face each other, and the purple woman takes Shepard's wrists. Her eyes go black.
She's asking her all kinds of questions, and Shepard answers in a single tone with no inflection, her eyes looking at the asari's violet face without seeing it. The questions start out innocent—What's your name? How long have you served?—but are soon personal, invasive, and it comes out that she's having sex with an alien. The Council is shocked. They disapprove. Anderson is filled with dark satisfaction as he watches Sparatus try to condemn her for fucking a turian and commend her for burying the 314 hatchet at the same time. He grits his teeth when the questions get dark, twisted—Do you recall dying? Did you enjoy your mission on Aratoht?—and Shepard grimaces. Her nose is bleeding; it runs down her face and splatters on her chest. When she asks about the visions, Shepard shows her.
He's not sure which woman screams, but it's animal. Terrified. Suddenly Anderson is roaring at the Council, and he's not even trying to pitch his voice so it doesn't carry. The asari is crying uncontrollably. Shepard's on her hands and knees, puking her guts out.
Hackett is on the floor next to her, staining the knees of his uniform as he holds her hair away from her face.
Vega carries her out of the room, and only now does he regret shouting. It's drawn a crowd in the hallway, and Shepard doesn't need more people to see her like this.
The interrogator kills herself, afterward.
Tevos calls to tell him, and the whole time the only thing in his mind is that Shepard would be devastated if she found out. There's sympathy, in the councilor's voice, for knowing what hides in Shepard's head. But there's suspicion, in her eyes. She wonders how a human can live with that for years when an asari couldn't for a week. The council, he thinks, is always looking for a reason not to trust her.
He doesn't understand why. He doesn't understand them.
So he resigns.
He knows how to fight best with guns, not words. Humanity needs a soldier, and Udina is more than happy to step in as humanity's politician.
When Vancouver gets hit, he tells himself the reason he's sending her away is so she can rally support. Other races trust her, and she's got the best ship that's ever been made. She can protect herself. It's for the good of the galaxy.
All of those things are true, he knows, but none of them are the reason.