Hannah just laughs bitterly at that, running her hands through her hair. She’s quite sure it’s a mess from the amount of times she’s done that — call it a nervous habit — but she can’t help it right now. Her daughter’s in a coma, and there’s no way to know when she’ll wake up. If, however, is not a possibility for Hannah.
”There’s no need to tiptoe around the subject, Steven. She’s in a coma — she’s as close to in the area as she could be in her current state.”
The admiral flinches at the woman’s bitter tone, his hands curling into fists at his sides. It’s his fault in a way, her daughter being in this place. He had pushed too hard, demanded that the younger Shepard find a way to make the Crucible work. And now… Now she was laying in a hospital bed, and the doctors weren’t sure she’d ever wake up.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, only to realize how pathetic that sounds. Sighing, he glances at the figure in the bed. “If there’s anything I can do…”
