Tiny fic thing about how Shepard decides to handle losing her scars after Cerberus brings her back, and how Dr. Chakwas reacts to Shepard’s decision.

“I needed this, doc.”

Somehow, Chakwas thinks, the bloody towel pressed diagonally across Shepard’s face takes years off. Looking at Shepard now, she sees the twenty-three-year-old whose dogged tenacity brought her through the ordeals of Akuze. She sees the sixteen-year-old farm girl who lost everything she’d ever known when the batarians attacked Mindoir.

But as she eases the towel away from Shepard’s face, the years and the hardships and the toil come rushing back. All the terrible weight of knowing the truth about something and having so very few believe you. The weight of losing two years after going down with the ship. And the weight no one had thought of, the weight of losing all the scars you’d gained along the way that reminded you it was all real.

Shepard glances up at her, as if expecting reproach or judgement. Chakwas examines the Commander’s handiwork without a word. The cut went through Shepard’s right eyebrow, across the bridge of her nose, and down into her cheek. It was a near perfect tracing of the scar that had been there before Shepard’s death.

“Well, Commander. I suppose I should clean you up and stitch this up for you.” Shepard wants a scar. Chakwas isn’t going to judge her for that. And seeing the tension go out of the Commander’s face and shoulders is enough of a reward.