The Difference Between

Author: gaarafreak

Summary: Following the events of ME1&2, Shepard is called back to the Citadel to diffuse the anti-human sentiment among non-humans, spearheaded by a very unhappy Turian political party. Spoilers for ME1&2 abound. Garrus/Shepard (Female Paragon with some Renegade choices mixed in)

A/N: This is my first Mass Effect fanfic. Constructive criticism is appreciated, so be gentle. And please review, even if you don't have any criticism too, because reviews are fun to read. Also, it's late when I finished this, so there may be typos. Okay.

First Contact—Decisions

"Commander, Councilor Anderson requests you speak with him in the communications room." EDI's mechanical voice broke the silence in Commander Shepard's room.

Jane Shepard sat on the edge of her bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her face resting against her intertwined hands. Lost in thought, she had even forgotten to strip off her armor after returning from the Collectors' base. She unhooked the clasps at the sides of the chest plate and the whole section of armor fell to the floor. She left it there and started working on her shoulder armor and gauntlets. "Seriously, EDI? I just saved the galaxy. Again. Can't I get an hour to myself so I can catch my breath?"

"My apologies, Shepard, but I received the Councilor's message only minutes after the team departed for the Collectors' base. It has been three hours since your return. Your respiration and heart rate have long since returned to normal levels. And the Councilor insists it is urgent."

"It's always urgent," Shepard sighed, kicking free of her boots and greaves before heading to the bathroom. She was still covered in the muck of battle—had it really been three hours since she had faced that…that thing?

In the safety of her own quarters, hidden from the eyes of all those who depended on her for strength, Shepard—the first human Spectre and hero of the Citadel—crossed her arms tight and shuddered.

She'd seen things so that many in the galaxy would never have to. Horrible things. But nothing compared to the abomination she found on the Collectors' base. Tens of thousands of humans, culled and injected as marrow into the bones of a giant mechanical skeleton. A human Reaper: technology born from the deaths of thousands. And the horrible choice she'd had to make...keep the data to insure human dominance or destroy it and all the evil it stands for.

Keeping the technology, tainted by so much innocent blood, was not an option. It never was. She refused to sell the soul of her people. No, they didn't need to walk the path forged from technology like that. Humanity already had the Mass Relays, the Citadel, all of Reaper design, and still no one truly understood the technology behind it. They merely used it, blindly, as a crutch.

No. Keeping the data on the Human Reaper would be the same. Cerberus would use it and make no attempt to truly understand what they were using—and what was there to understand, anyway? All that path offered was death and destruction.

But did the others understand? Would they condemn her like the Illusive Man had? After her crew had been through so much together, would she lose them, not to nuclear explosions or Collector attacks, but to her stupid self-righteous beliefs?

"Commander, you seem distressed. Shall I—"

"Damn it, EDI, I'm fine. Just give me a few minutes, please," she growled, tossing her bloody, sweat-drenched uniform into the trash in her small bathroom. The black fabric of her uniform was ripped all over—the long tear on the thigh from a Husk that grabbed her leg as she hit it with a shockwave of biotic energy, the multiple burns along the sleeves from particle beams shot at her by Harbinger and the other Collectors.

She stood naked under the showerhead and let the warm water wash away the traces of blood on her skin, the stink of burnt flesh where the beam had scorched her. Technically, it was her second shower of the day, a luxury she'd never taken onboard a ship. Despite the anxieties pressing down on her, Shepard closed her eyes and turned her face up toward the showerhead, running the soap over her shoulders and arms, down her back.

Her fingers brushed against a scab on her that had nothing to do with fighting. One, light scratch just below her left shoulder blade. It was an accident. His talons were just a little too sharp, and he'd gotten caught up in the moment, forgotten she had soft skin, not firm plating like his people had. But he'd been so careful with her. It'd been sweet and at the same, infuriating. She'd had to assure him she wouldn't break under him, he could relax and enjoy their time together.

It had been awkward at first, even though she'd watched the vids Mordin forwarded to her to help in her research…but it had less to do with the physical act than with their nerves. He was nervous, and she'd been trying hard to be confident, but underneath it, she'd been just as anxious. They were both so eager. They needed each other. And then that eagerness melted into something else, something that made her breath catch, her heart race hummingbird fast. Just remembering it sent a thrill through her, brought goosebumps to her skin.

She turned the shower off and caught her reflect in the mirror. Her cheeks were red and she was actually smiling, one corner of her lips curled involuntarily. After the terrible events of the day and the discoveries onboard the Collectors' base, the thought of Garrus Vakarian could still make her smile.

But there wasn't time to reminisce about the texture of his Turian skin against hers. About how his scarred, right cheek felt against her palm. How his mandibles twitched ever so slightly under the pads of her fingers, light as eyelashes on the skin.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, and contemplated turning on the shower again. Cold water at full-blast. No, she was almost dry. She'd be fine. Remember your duty. Remember reality.

The Reapers were still out there with unfathomable numbers, waiting the darkness. This changes nothing, Harbinger had said. For all she knew, he was right and the Reaper threat was greater than ever. Worse, now she and her crew had Cerberus to contend with. Soon, her familiar glaring scowl was back. She grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapped it around herself, and went back into the room to find her extra uniform.

---

The communication room was still a mess. Wires hung from the ceiling and there was debris propped against the wall for clean-up once they pulled into port. They need to dock for repairs, to replenish their food and fuel supplies.

"Commander, I should remind you—" EDI started.

"Yes, I know. Thank you. Patch me through to Councilor Anderson on the Citadel." Shepard leaned both hands against the counter in front. A holographic image of the Normandy hovered above the length of the desk.

One of the monitors set into the counter lit up, displaying Anderson from the shoulders up. "Shepard. We have a problem."

Shepard pressed her lips together in a thin frown and thought, Of course we have a problem. Humans always have a problem. Frustration flooded over her, threatened to engulf her, but she just took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You might be happy to learn that my crew has solved the Collector problem. The Terminus colonies should be safe now. Well. Safer. Never completely safe, especially with the Reapers still—"

"Shepard, listen. You're needed on the Citadel. Things are getting tense here."

"What? How so?"

Anderson sighed, closed his eyes, pressed his index finger and thumb against his eyelids. "You know, sometimes I wish I hadn't let you drag me into this, Shepard. Letting the old Council die and leaving me to pick up the mess…well, now everything's gone to hell. Things are bad. It's not safe, not even with C-Sec."

"Slow down, Anderson." Shepard held out both hands as if to calm him. "I don't understand. What's the situation on the Citadel?"

He stopped talking and seemed to stare straight at her through the monitor. There was a frantic helplessness in his expression that reminded her of the young woman, trapped in the pod in the Collectors' base. The look of someone in danger, someone at their wit's end. "There was a riot in the Wards. An anti-human protest got out of hand. They were rallying against the supposed 'human coup' in the Citadel. They're a bunch of nut-job conspiracy theorists…but they've gained a lot of support in the recent months."

"A riot?"

"A big one. Had to call in C-Sec officers in riot gear to suppress the crowd. Had to use tear gas and concussion rounds. Lots of injured Turians. A few humans got caught by the rioters before we could get the situation under control."

"Turians? Were they the only ones rioting?"

Anderson didn't answer. Someone stepped up next to Anderson, an older man in white. Shepard recognized the face: the former human ambassador, Udina. "Shepard. This isn't the time for you to be running around the galaxy playing hero. You are a symbol for our people, you represent the best humanity has to offer. We need you here right now, building bridges, where the aliens can see you. And your crew."

She leaned back, drummed her fingers against the countertop. "I see. My crew is diverse. You want to use me to prove that humans can play nice with others."

"We have a series of diplomatic missions waiting for you." Anderson said. "But we can discuss that once you reach the Citadel."

She could just tell them to go to hell. She didn't have time for this stupidity. Problem was, she felt responsible. During Sovereign's attack on the Citadel more than two years ago, she had been forced to make a horrible choice. Us or them. Attempt to save the dreadnought, Destiny Ascension, from heavy fire, risking thousands of human lives for the old Council…or focus on taking back the Citadel.

How do you weigh one life against another? Human, alien…at the end of the day someone was still dead.

She sucked in a breath and clenched her jaw shut. She remembered the Destiny Ascension ripped apart, its destruction. Her stomach sank. Why was she always the one who had to make these terrible decisions? She swallowed, wet her dry lips with her tongue.

Anderson and Udina were waiting for her answer.

Because she was the first human Spectre. Hero of the Citadel. The best humanity had to offer, apparently. She stood up straight. "The Normandy needs to pull into port for repairs anyway. Citadel's as good a place as any."

Before she could cut communications, Udina blurted, "Commander Shepard, wait." She paused with her hand over the console. "For this mission, may we request that you bring certain members of your crew best qualified for the situation?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Who do you have in mind?"

"The Turian."

She waited. When he didn't continue, she leaned her head to the side, squinted at the monitor and asked, "Garrus?"

"The Turian government is the most vocally opposed to humans, probably because of the lingering resentment regarding the First Contact War. Don't be seen without him. We need face time with non-human species, and he'll be a valuable asset to that end."

"Garrus isn't a tool or a trophy. He's a valued member of my squad."

"Yes, yes, all the more reason to use him. Parade him around the Citadel, prove that humans and Turians need not be at each others' throats." Udina said.

Shepard pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Fine. Anderson, we'll be there in a few hours. But I intend to share what I found on my mission to the Collectors' base with you. It's more important that this interspecies bitch fest you two have managed to create."

She cut the transmission before either of them could argue. "EDI, have Joker take us to the Citadel. Apparently, we can't stop picking fights with each other long enough to focus on the real threat."

"Is this news to you, Commander?"

Shepard glared at the glowing, blue image EDI had projected over the communications desk. "Not in the mood."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

"Great. Even the A.I. is giving me attitude," she muttered, leaving the communications room. She passed through the tech lab on the way to the elevator, nodding at Mordin, who barely looked up from his microscope to acknowledge her. At least the Salarian scientist didn't seem perturbed by her choice to destroy a cornucopia of technological wealth. But then, he wasn't a human. He had objectivity she didn't.

The elevator ride down to deck three was extremely slow. She tapped her foot on the ground, playing over Garrus's possible reactions. There were so many possibilities. What if he didn't think she'd done the right thing? What if he thought she was an idiot? He probably wouldn't say anything against her, but she would know. He'd give her that look and she'd know she'd lost just a little bit of his respect…

And why was this damn elevator taking so long?

The doors slid open and she hurried out, realized she was rushing and paused. Walk. Don't run. Your crew is around. She was proud of how calmly she turned the corner into the mess area. People eating at the tables. Some cheered when they saw her, waved, thanked her for saving them. She smiled, nodded, kept walking.

Garrus was in the forward batteries. He didn't face her as she walked in, but she could tell he knew it was her. She noticed the slight twitching of his mandibles, wondered if there was a meaning to it, an equivalent human facial expression. "Commander. You made taking out the Collectors look easy. No casualties. It's almost disappointing. I was told this was a suicide mission."

"Sorry, I ruined your plans for a glorious death," she said, rolling her eyes. She walked around him to lean against the railing beside the center console. "How are you doing? No injuries? Are you…"

"I'm fine." He shrugged under his blue armor, glanced up from fiddling with the weapon console to meet her eyes. "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten what we…talked about. Earlier."

She couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corners of her lips. "'Talked about?' Is that some kind of Turian euphemism for—"

"Shepard," Garrus interrupted, sounding almost embarrassed. He reached out and rested his hand on her bare forearm. The rough pads of his palm were warm on her skin. When he pulled his hand back, one of his talons brushed across her skin lightly and she remembered the scratch on her back. The way he was staring at her face, she knew she had to be blushing.

She cleared her throat. He blinked and took at step back, turning his attention back to the console in front of him. "Did you need me for something?"

"I wanted to talk about a few things," Shepard said, pushing away from the railing and pacing through the small room. Garrus glanced at the open door leading out to the mess are. He pressed a button on the control panel in front of him. The door slid shut. He turned back to her, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. She sat down on a storage crate in the corner. "About what we saw on the Collectors' base. That…that monster. The Reaper they were building…well, you saw what they were doing. You saw that poor woman's skin melt off her body."

Garrus nodded. "It was a nightmare."

"It was hell." Shepard snapped, clenching her hands into fists on her lap.

"The crew was lucky. If we'd left just a few minutes later—" Garrus stopped before he could finish. His eyes lingered on her face. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision. Nothing could justify using that technology."

For a moment, the relief that flooded through her was so overwhelming she couldn't breathe. "I…was afraid you wouldn't understand."

"What?" His mandibles flared out then pressed close to the sides of his face. His voice sounded confused, almost angry. "Of course I understand. I was there, wasn't I? I saw the bodies piled all over the ship. I saw the millions of Collector pods ready to capture every one of your people on Earth. What could make that okay? Nothing.

"Imagine if the Collectors had been targeting my people. What if it had been Turians in those pods? Would you have still destroyed the technology?"

She was insulted he even had to ask. "Of course."

"Exactly." Garrus moved across the room, crossing the distance between them. He knelt down in front of where she sat on the crate until he was eye-level with her. He placed both hands on her knees, steadying himself and said, "Shepard, I know you. I trust you. Everyone in this crew respects your convictions. We might not always agree with you personally—"

Shepard caught the pause in his speech and looked away.

Sidonis. He had to be talking about Sidonis. She still believed that letting him go was the right choice and Garrus didn't. Of course he didn't. He'd lost good friends because of that bastard. He'd wanted revenge so much he interrupted their life-or-death mission to go looking for it. And she'd denied him what he wanted, talked him down. For a while after that, she wondered if he'd ever forgive her.

He brushed a talon along her jaw and she glanced back up, surprised. He met her eyes without faltering or flinching. "As individuals, we might not always agree with you, but we know that you're thinking of us. And you have everyone's best interests in mind. Don't be so hard on yourself."

He was very close now. All she had to do was lean forward. Just a bit. An inch would do.

She reached for his face, fingers hovering over his scarred cheek. He closed his eyes and turned toward her hand. He was hot to the touch. Feverish.

She leaned forward.

So did he.

"Commander." EDI said.

Shepard jolted in her seat just as Garrus pulled back, lost his balance and fell to the cold metal grating. The blue image projected from EDI's communications terminal on the wall flickered. "Jeff requested that I inform you our ETA for the Citadel is approximately two hours and thirty minutes."

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard snapped, in her most sarcastic voice. Garrus scoffed from his place on the floor. She stood and reached out to help him. He grasped both of her hands and she hauled him upright again. Patting him on the shoulder of his armor, she grinned. "For such a big guy, you don't weigh much. Turians got hollow bones or something?"

"No, you human females just have terrifying upper body strength. It must come from your ape-like ancestry."

When she laughed, his mandibles twitched just slightly. She wondered if that was a smile. "EDI, inform Yeoman Chambers to draw up a schedule for all crew member shore parties. Make sure each person gets at least five hours to relax on the station before we have to head out again."

"Understood, Commander." EDI replied. The blue image projected from the terminal blinked and disappeared.

"It'll be nice to have a few hours to relax." Garrus said. Then he saw her lopsided smile and sighed. "I know that look. What do you have planned?"

"Hey, you should be honored. You've been personally selected, out of all my crew, by Councilor Anderson and Udina to help me in a mission that may affect thousands of lives."

He shook his head. "Again?"

"That's what I said. But yes, again. And they were adamant that you accompany me when I visit them on the Citadel."

He ran the back of his hand along his forehead and grumbled, "I hate dealing with politicians."

"Aw, come on. It can't be that bad. At least you get to spend some time with the best human Spectre around."

"But you're the only human Spectre there is."

"I win by default then." Shepard strode to the door and ran her hand over the lock. It flickered green and the door snapped open. She said over her shoulder, "It's a diplomatic mission, so clean yourself up. Wear something nice."

Garrus touched his armor and protested, "Hey, my armor is nice."

"Something that doesn't have huge chunks missing." She waved to him without looking back. "Seriously. You should've tossed that armor weeks ago, buddy."

He stood in the doorway of the forward batteries, watching Shepard weave her way through the mess area toward the elevators. Then he looked down at his blue armor, poked a talon through one of the holes in the metal chest plate and muttered, "I don't see what the big deal is. It's good armor."