Identity (a Mass Effect fanfiction)

Human

"Damn, Garrus, those scars keep surprising me. Like something out of a horror vid." Shepard grinned.

To his surprise, nothing like a smile appeared in Garrus's eyes. Turian physiology made a smile a difficult concept to begin with, but Garrus's eyes were unusually solemn. And no snappy comeback, either. Garrus usually gave as good as he got.

"What's up, Vakarian?"

Garrus looked around the mess hall. It wasn't quite full, but a fair amount of the off-duty crew were sitting around the tables. None of them seemed to be paying attention to Garrus or Shepard, but—oh, who was he kidding? His people paid attention to him all the time. It was one of the burdens of carrying possibly the most famous name, and unwieldiest reputation, in the galaxy. Clearing his throat, Garrus said, "Uh ... Commander. Can we talk privately?"

"Sure." Shepard got to his feet, carrying his empty plates to the kitchen area. He could still remember what Captain Anderson had said, back when the Normandy was new and XO Shepard had left his dishes on the table for someone else to deal with. "Shepard. A good leader cleans up after himself. He takes care of his ship like he takes care of his people." Good man, Anderson. Too bad he was stuck so firmly under Udina's thumb. Some days, Shepard regretted making Udina the Councilor and not Anderson.

When the doors of the gun battery slid closed behind them, Shepard turned to his old friend. "What's up? Are the scars bothering you?"

"What? Oh, these." Garrus reached up to touch the scarred side of his face. "On the contrary. A real turian has battle marks. I could be on the cover of Palaven Playmates with these."

Shepard mouthed the name. "Seriously?"

"Well, the name in my language is much more ... interesting. But I digress. It's not my scars I worry about, it's ... um, Commander—" He cleared his throat. "Shepard. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"

Had he? Shepard couldn't remember. His unscheduled awakening when the lab facility was attacked had left him unfinished; he'd had one or two odd bright marks in his skin at the time. They weren't anything he worried about much, and it wasn't as though he spent a lot of time worrying about what he looked like aboard the ship. Or at all, for that matter, not when there was so much work to be done. "Yes?" he said doubtfully.

"No. I don't think you have. Has Dr. Chakwas looked at those?"

"A while back, when we first set out. Why?" He vaguely remembered an email from Chakwas about his scars, but he hadn't paid much attention to it. What were a few scars compared to missing colonists and the threat of a Reaper invasion?

"You ... might want her to." Garrus frowned at him. Shepard was amazed at the way the turian managed such a gamut of expressions with a plated face that didn't really move. "Are you telling me you haven't noticed the way people stare at you?"

"They've pretty much stared at me since the Skyllian Blitz. I got used to it a long time ago."

"So you haven't noticed the difference."

"No. What the hell, Garrus? What is this?"

"They're spreading, Shepard."

"What?" Shepard's hand went to his face. He needed a shave, but beyond that, he couldn't feel anything different. "No, they're not."

"They are. And that's not the worst of it."

"Really. You're saying I'm some hideous scarred creature that terrifies small children and voluses, and that's not the worst of it?"