AN: No idea where this came from. I'd say simply for teh lulz, to use the correct term, but there is no lulz in this – anyway, spoilers for the whole of ME2, some quite obscure references to missions, and naturally I don't own Mass Effect or we would've been able to put a bullet in TIM's skull the first time we met him.
It hurts at first.
Physically of course. The scars itch constantly, and the darkened flesh around them burns and pulls and pulses in moments of agitation (like burning oil sticking to her skull).
Mentally as well. Sometimes she thinks there's Torfan written on her face for everyone to see, to remind everyone of what she has done. To punish her for her calm, dreamless sleep (for her lack of regret). She did what she had to do, and not even the shock in Kelly's eyes can convince her otherwise.
It grows worse – they grow worse. The implants start to glow under the deep cuts, the gouges in her cheeks widen until she's reminded of the worn surface of an asteroid (silently falling through space at the command of a terrorist, and then she hears the hostages' screams as they burn).
Dr Chakwas' report tells her as much. She scoffs at the idea of healing – at first because of necessity (the resources are needed for cannons and weapons and shields and a tiny model of Sovereign she likes to cradle to her chest and remember ships falling apart, a thin cloak before the Destiny Ascension), then out of a strange mixture of defiance and pride.
She is not afraid to show them what she is.
It keeps hurting and itching and burning, but she grows used to it. Her squadmates' reactions are harder to bear – Miranda with a scowl on her flawless face, scarred Garrus who avoids her gaze (despite the fact that he has killed even more mercenaries than she has that day on Omega), Samara's silent judgement, Mordin's almost innocent questions, the falter in Tali's voice as they meet again, Thane's tight-lipped contempt.
Somebody (probably Jacob, as it's right after the mission on Aeia) leaves a package in her room. She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry or rage as she's unwrapped the book: The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde.
She feeds it to the garbage compactor piece by piece, watches the loose pages get lost in space while Zaeed behind her drones on and on how much he'd have liked to have Jack with him on that mission or the other (and she thinks how different Virmire would have been with the crazy biotic at her side).
She starts to use her face as a weapon, reads people's reaction when she grins this way and elevates that eyebrow (and the weakling in the interrogation room, Elias Something-I-don't-care, almost pisses himself as he sees her, and her weapon is barely out before he spills his guts). On Tuchanka, under the searing sun, she feels at home until she meets Wrex and sees him hesitate for a split second at her sight.
She needs a drink on Afterlife after this, or maybe three, only her implants are bugging her to no end and she thinks that her old crew would've never tolerated her this way (and they would've stopped her from killing that bartender, that's almost certain). She loses herself in the music and the heat and the light then, and for a few moments she almost feels happy.
Even Legion calls her violent when she wakes him/it/them up. Coming from a member of the species that tried to invade the galaxy two years before it's quite a statement (and maybe a justified one – she does command him/it/them to blow that space station up).
He/it/they dies in the Collector base, aside Thane and Zaeed (and what's left of the crew because she can't afford sending a babysitter along with them back to the Normandy). Grunt grins happily at the sight of the baby Reaper, and she smiles as well and takes a few pictures before blowing it all to hell.
She sends the photographs of the gigantic too-human skull to everyone she knows. This is the face of a monster, she tells them.