A/N: Greetings again from the realms of explosive mashups that probably don't make sense. Thank you all for your support so far and sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I'm thinking I want to do one long chapter each month; as a reader I like getting things in large chunks, but if you all would like to see more frequent, shorter chapters let me know. One other thing is I'd like to get more reviews, feedback from you guys and where you want to see the story go is important because this is a journey I hope we'll all be taking together. I'm not saying I'm going to implement all of it, but it makes it easier to see what you think of the story and how I can make it better. Anyways, have a chapter.

All assets belong to their respective companies.

Chapter 3: A Safe Place

My shoulder was more stiff than anything else. I still couldn't move it, the armor's gel layer had hardened, but using my left arm would damage the joint more. The first good news came last night when a notification opened in my HUD announcing the repairs to my shield system were complete. The telltale sound of the barrier charging broke my conversation with Sturges for a moment while he studied me, confused.

Now I watched the sun rise from the roof of our temporary haven. If this was Earth, that meant the front faced southwest. Sturges hadn't been able to tell me anything more than theories about how I got here last night, but at least I have a good idea of what history led this… version of reality to its current state. On top of that, he had good briefs on a few of the parties in play in the area, except for one: the Institute. He knew their name, and that if I was looking for scientists and advanced technology, they were the ones to contact. Past that they were a mystery; from what he told me they were an organization that lived in the world of shadows and speculation. Horror stories of disappearing people and cleared out settlements. Sturges admitted not believing most of it, but speculation fills a vacuum better than anything.

Stank of ONI MO.

Over the past few hours I'd tracked several animals slinking around the edges of the street; what looked like emaciated dogs and some form of massive, hairless rodent. Every so often, one would steal from the shadows to grab one of the corpses and drag it, or a piece, back to an alley. Distant gunfire sounded every so often. I get the feeling these people's story isn't an uncommon one.

I slipped from my stomach up into a crouch and crept back from the Vertibird (what Preston had called the VTOL that crashed into the museum's roof). The others were finishing preparations in the lobby: two party members too injured to walk were strapped to makeshift stretchers, each able bodied person carrying a satchel full of supplies from the dispatched raiders.

One of the injured was the man dying from his gunshot wound to the abdomen. I understood their sentiment, not wanting to leave the man behind, but he wasn't going to survive. It took two people to carry each of the two injured which meant the only people who would be free to respond to a threat were myself, Preston, and… Mama Murphy. I didn't expect much support in a firefight, but they'd at least be able to get to cover.

Better make sure they don't need to then.

I shook my head.

"We're ready to move." Preston's voice carried less ire than it had last night; had he come to his senses, or had he just been sleep deprived? Either way the change was welcome, even if I doubted it would last.

"Good, I'll retrieve you once I've cleared the path out of town."

"And that will be…"

"Ten mikes- minutes."

"Okay."

I slipped out of the front door and back into the dilapidated world I'd found myself in. No signs of further Raider activity made itself apparent as I scouted toward the northwest side of town. Rocks, dead trees, brown grass, and dirt greeted me at the edge of town. This place really was a wasteland. It felt as unwelcoming as any of the glasses planets I'd seen. Oh… there was a new, unpleasant memory: Covenant bombarding a colony's surface until nothing survived, burning away any semblance of life with plasma fire.

This… somehow this was more foreboding. This is Earth. Our most heavily defended stronghold, the one that had survived a Covenant occupation and small flood invasion. In this reality it's nothing but dust and ash; a dead planet that, even with 200 years, hadn't recovered in the slightest. This wasn't the work of an advanced, genocidal alien conglomerate. I know what humans can do to each other, the memories were still just out of reach, but I know I had done my share to other humans. The UNSC never resorted to these means, even against the most fundamentalist Innie outpost. They sent me in, not nukes, and certainly didn't employ a scorched earth policy (as on the nose as that phrase is under the circumstances).

Whatever happened, worrying right now won't improve my chances of getting back to my reality.

Once I'd regrouped with the others at the museum, we began the march across this desolate waste that, at one time, had been Boston. Even now my mind was racing, trying to find a reasonable explanation for all of the insanity I was walking through. Everything was dead almost as certainly as if the Covenant had glassed the planet. Nukes could make vitrified glass, but I didn't see any; 200 years was probably enough for most of it to erode away if there had been any. That was the only thing missing.

Brown. That was all I could see. Even if there were trees or grass, they almost seemed dyed brown. Hell whenever we passed a building, no matter the color, it looked like I was viewing it through a brown filter. Along the way we passed countless cars rusting into the ground, burned out buildings, and piles of bones and powder that, at one point, had been bodies.

How had so little progress been made in 200 years? Yes a global nuclear war would be devastating for a society that hadn't reached other planets yet, but 2 centuries is a long time. Tribal or feudal leadership wasn't conducive to growth; maybe the Raiders were just one example of what had become of this world. From what Sturges had told me, the only 'civilian' settlements were small and inconsequential, many subject to attacks from bandits, wild animals, and 'Supermutants' (the engineer had a lot to say about them but the only things that mattered were 'large, tough, and hostile'). There were towns pockmarking the wasteland, more heavily defended and centers of commerce, but still locally governed. All in all, outside of whatever the Institute could offer, I wasn't liking my chances.

As we walked, I could feel eyes following us from somewhere; it was an instinct that had saved my life more times than I could count, developed over years of being caught off guard. What could I do here though? There was no hard cover and clear sightlines for hundreds of meters in every direction. With the surrounding landscape, they'd probably been tracking us for a while and I would be the primary target for any sniper. My shields would take the hit if need be, and they'd only get one chance. It was never a good idea to rely solely on your equipment to save you, but sometimes you don't have a choice.

On top of the alarm buzzing in my head, and the desolate, brown landscape, the group's pace was painfully slow. It took almost an hour to cover the first two kilometers with the number of stops and rest they required. The man with the gunshot wound to the stomach was unconscious by this point, face pale enough to belong to a dead man. His shallow, labored breathing was the only sign of life but they'd still refuse to put him out of his misery; at this point it wasn't pragmatism, it was mercy.

Emotions are a powerful thing, even when they're misplaced.

They remained quiet for the most part, only murmuring something every so often about water, food, or rest. Just like with whomever was following us, I could feel them steal glances at me. They were all uncomfortable, but it wasn't the first time and there wasn't anything I could do.

One memory came back in particular from a mission; it was a later operation where I'd been deployed with an ODST platoon as heavy support for a covert raid on an Insurrectionist outpost. They'd managed to establish it near Sigma Octanus IV sometime after the Covenant attacked the system. I never worked with a squad, and certainly never with one outside of the SPARTAN program, it didn't matter though, we were all there to do a job.

Outside of mission briefing and deployment, I didn't talk with them and they didn't try to engage me, which is fine. That didn't stop the sense of distrust, almost hostility they radiated toward me. We were ambushed early on in the raid; we dealt with it, the ODST's were excellent fighters if nothing else, but we were compromised. Not a big deal; I'd been in that situation dozens of times over the previous few years. My solution was always to move fast, stay ahead of their ability to organize responses as I dismantled them and create as much uncertainty as I could. The ODST's didn't have that option though, so it was either retreat or fight our way through the outpost heads up.

I chose the latter, they disagree, so instead I suggested they fall back and plant explosives as they go. Once they were clear they detonate to give me some cover in the chaos and I'd eliminate the base commander before placing a satchel charge in the outposts's substation and blowing it, the primary objectives.

They lost four men on the way out, probably wouldn't have if I'd gone with them, but the operation was a success. The ride back was about as loud as a silent Pelican could be, every ODST trying to stare holes through my helmet. The platoon commander called me into his CO's office once we'd rendezvous with the Starless Night where both reprimanded me. My response was simple: the mission was successful. They didn't like that, filed an official complaint with ONI, and formally requested I be 'suitably punished'.

It didn't happen.

People don't trust SPARTAN's, at least not ones before the IV's. We're the result of circumstances that never should have existed. Some who know what we've been through will pity us, others shun us. All of them- all of them used us: we're uniquely skilled, extremely effective, and no one would miss us, but very few truly trust us.

Some things don't change, even in a different reality. Yes I was using them too, but these people don't trust me, they just need me to get them somewhere safe. I gave a mental shrug; if it got me closer to answers it didn't matter, I'd get the job done.

About 6 klicks in, a small town that looked just as dilapidated Concord loomed ahead. I directed the group around it to avoid a potential ambush; if the Raiders were the ones following us, I didn't want to give them an opportunity to exact revenge though, with how many chances they've had to attack us from a distance, it felt like whoever was watching wasn't here to fight, maybe just observe.

It was some time around noon when I found myself walking beside a small, sickly looking river. The greenish brown water reminded me I hadn't eaten or drank since I woke up yesterday. Once we reached Sanctuary I could ask for something.

Five minutes later the small… town came into view. It wasn't much of one; maybe a dozen houses arranged in a U shape situated between the river and a hillside. It wasn't ideal, but the collection of buildings was small enough for this group to maintain and with proper surveillance and preparation, it would be very difficult to mount a large surprise attack.

"Wow", Alexandra mused, breathless. She had struggled throughout the journey with her left leg. It seemed like a mild ankle sprain from watching her walk, but that combined with having to carry a stretcher was enough to slow us to a crawl. "This looks like it might actually work."

Preston wandered to a single story yellow house in the center of the collection with a large covered carport and most of its walls still upright. The others followed and deposited the two stretchers and supplies in the covered area. "Maybe. We got a lot of work to do before we can make that call. And that's if the Raiders leave us alone."

Julian joined him. "We're pretty far out of their way now."

"Someone followed us." All eyes turned to me.

"How do you know?" The sharp edge on Preston's voice was back.

"It's something you pick up on after a while. We were being watched once we left Concord."

"You didn't want to share that little piece of information with the rest of us?"

"How would it change anything?"

"We could have tried to lose them?"

The sigh found its way out on its own. No we couldn't have, not with how slow you move.

My patience had been running low since last night. "We're here now and this place can be turned into a defensible position." The dying man's breathing had been turning more and more labored throughout the day, but now it had the telltale rattle as fluid began filling his lungs. "That man only has a few minutes left." I nodded to the still form. Was I using it as a diversion? Maybe, but the warning at least gave them a chance to say goodbye.

Alarm overtook the incredulity and the Minuteman hurried to his side, quickly followed by the others. "Mack? Mack!" He wouldn't respond, the man was comatose and inches from death, but that didn't stop the calling, shaking… pleading.

Emotion welled up in my throat so suddenly I almost choked. It didn't have anything to do with the scene in front of me, but I couldn't place it. Their pleas, the desperation in their voices; it was something I'm sure I'd heard before but this was more familiar, more intimate than that.

I forced the emotion down and spent the next half hour while they grieved scouting the immediate area. The hill above had some form of disused installation or bunker built into it, possibly a fallout shelter. It looked like it had been a very, very long time since the hatch had been used. Getting inside might be difficult but if it really was a bunker it would be much more serviceable as a safe haven than a crumbling neighborhood. The site around its entrance told a story of panic; rusted shipping containers, discarded belongings that had degraded too far to be recognizable, and the multitude of half buried bones. The attack was sudden. Unexpected. These people must have been caught trying to make it to safety.

Other than that, the collection of houses was surrounded by a river which provided some physical protection so long as the group did something to take advantage of it.

By the time I returned, they had moved the body off to the side and one of the others was digging a grave. Preston, who had been helping Sturges and Julian clear debris from the house, turned to me as I approached. "So what, gonna tell me 'told you so'?" His tone made it clear he was looking for a fight; the glare only reinforced that.

Patience was on its way out of the door. I shook my head. "You'll have to deal with the guilt yourself." That was it wasn't it? He feels responsible for everything that has happened. From what Sturges told me, their group had been more than double the size originally and now they'd just lost one of their few remaining members. That was probably why he'd been so hostile to this point.

Confusion mixed with the anger and sorrow already present. "What are you talking about?"

"That man's dead, he was always going to die, you knew but didn't want to accept it. You feel guilty over him and the others." I guess in a way that's like saying 'I told you so.' Everyone had stopped and was looking at us yet again.

"And what do you know about leading people, huh? Having other people's lives depending on you? You don't know shit about what we've been through over the past month and you're going to stand there and judge me for calling you on it?" By the end of his tirade, Preston's voice was on the verge of breaking.

Maybe I couldn't recall everything yet, but I know many of my ops were high risk and high priority; ones where if I failed, a lot of people could die. But that wasn't something these people had any right to know.

"Maybe not but if you don't pull your shit together, it's going to get worse."

"I don't ne-"

"Enough", I barked in a tone that would have made Kristina jealous. It may have been the onset of exhaustion in part, but now he was taking loans out against my patience he had no way of returning. The others jumped, Preston almost stumbled over himself in the act. "I'm done arguing with you; work with me or point me toward someone who can help me."

The Minuteman tried to keep himself puffed up, but the wind wasn't in his sails. He wanted me to argue, didn't want to deal with the mess he'd found himself. Tough shit. "Screw you." His voice was muted but the irritation was clear as day. I didn't respond and he turned back to the supplies scattered on the ground.

No one would meet my gaze and as much as I wanted to secure their new little home so I could get back to figuring out what to do next, I doubted any of them would be willing to do so. I stalked to a pile of supplies, grabbed a few small boxes of food, a carton of water, and left for one of the houses near the entrance to town.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I helping these people; they clearly don't want it. How do I know they have any valuable information past what Sturges said last night? That wasn't much better than I could get in a mission brief anyway.

I entered the last house before the bridge we crossed into town and slid into a sitting position against what was left of a living room wall. It creaked in protest.

Why do I want to help them? Would it matter if I asked anyone else though? If these people could open a… wormhole to a different, better reality, wouldn't they have done so by now? Can I even get back? What do I do if I can't?

Would anyone miss me if I didn't? It isn't like there was a shortage of SPARTAN's anymore. I looked down at the boxes of food I'd grabbed: two Salisbury Steaks and a pie of some sort. With a thought I released the lock on my helmet's seal and undid the latch before pulling it off. The task was difficult with one arm but eventually I succeeded and got my first whiff of this Earth's air.

It was strange… clean, I could almost call it 'crisp'. The air was a stark contrast to the dead, brown would around me. With everything around me, I expected it to be acrid, or stale but it had a freshness I'd never experienced before. Huh. I peeled open the first package and began eating.

Is anyone missing me? I was an extremely effective operative but like all III's, I knew I had my baggage, just not exactly what it is yet. I'm an orphan, I know that much, but that wasn't all. It didn't matter for now, I still needed to get back to the UNSC, hell they might be interested in this new reality.

It didn't take more than a minute or two to finish the boxes and water off but after that…? It dawned on me this is the first time I've had to myself without something else to keep me occupied. Well, other than the walk to Concord, but I had so little cognitive function at the time I'm not sure that counts. I sifted through my scattered memories once more, but what was I looking for? What happened immediately before I woke up but as with the night before I couldn't remember; the last thing I remember was being introduced to a team of SPARTAN IV's I'd been assigned to. That was the first time I'd ever officially been a part of anything more than a two man team.

Maybe it's my lack of experience meeting people outside of my support team, but the introduction was rather… strange. I was stationed on the UNSC Vibrant Dawn, a heavy destroyer, awaiting my next assignment. I had been on my equivalent of leave for a little over a month by that point (which was an eternity) when I'd received the deployment. It was pretty obvious my life was about to change and my handlers were taking their time to figure- well something. Turns out that was who would take the burden of my integration into a squad.

Captain James Fourier drew that short straw. Avoiding regs was my SOP and on top of that most avoided me after the first few days when they learned I wasn't a IV, or anywhere near as well adjusted as one. Unlike the IV's, I also kept my armor on at all times which… probably made them uncomfortable. All of that considered, eating normally happened on night shift, alone in the mess. Third day in, Fourier comes waltzing in and I knew what that meant.

Great. I didn't need to be a part of a squad.

The Captain planted himself in front of me, looking down with what I could only describe as an utterly blank expression. "Lieutenant, Captain James Fourier. I'm your squad leader." My response, or lack thereof, didn't seem to put him off. "Glad we have an understanding. I hold roll call at 0430 and we will be running PT and Combat Drills at 0500. I know you're fond of it, but leave your armor in your station tomorrow." I thought that was it, but the IV frowned at me. "I know your dossier, all of it, condition of me taking you on. I can't understand what you've been through, but you're a member of my squad now which means I'm going to afford you the same respect and treat you the same as I would any SPARTAN. That also means I don't give a damn about how effective you've been on your own, though I will say I'm extremely impressed, you're a part of a squad now and I expect you to act like it." He came to attention and snapped off a salute. "Welcome to the club." With that the IV turned on his heels and marched back out of the mess.

I hadn't dealt with many superiors outside of the SPARTAN program and the occasional ONI Officer. The few times I had it was a pissing match, non-SPARTAN, non-intel officers trying to drop the weight of their pins on anyone they could. For the most part, I ignored them and went on with my business. Fourier had been different; maybe it was because he was a IV, maybe it's because, as he put it, he knew my dossier. The Captain wasn't the normal stick up his ass superior. He hadn't 'ordered' me to do anything; he had laid out his expectations and ended with that. He didn't seem like he was trying to prove anything.

Two sets of footsteps approaching from the other side of town pulled me out of my musings. I looked down at my helmet lying in my lap and a grin crept across my mouth. More people knew me by that than my actual face; it was something I'd never really had to accept, I'm a SPARTAN, that comes with the territory.

I slid the helmet back into place and resealed the suit a moment before Alexandra and Julian entered the house. She looked at the discarded food containers.

"Was that enough?"

I nodded and silence blanketed the three of us as the two of them studied me. It wasn't unusual, but their expressions weren't the same as the regs or civilians I'd been around before. The familiar fear was there, but only a hint. Even after the end of the Human-Covenant war, most civilians who survived hadn't seen the fighting outside of news feeds. They were sheltered and it showed.

These people, they fought for their lives every day, they were used to a reality where death hung over their heads. I guess I'm just an extension of that. The majority of what I saw was open curiosity which worried me.

"What can I do for you?"

"I never thanked you for saving us. None of us have and I know that's been frustrating, especially with Preston's attitude. You just have to understand the position he's in, we're all in."

Thank me? Frustrating? No, frustrating was not knowing what the hell was going on, having no idea how I got here or if I can get back, or where here is. The fighting- "Fighting is my job. I know what Preston is going through, but if he doesn't get over it you won't survive."

Instead of arguing, the woman just shrugged. "You could have just said 'you're welcome'." Her eyes wandered around my armor a moment before settling on my face again. "Why are you staying here?"

"Your group wouldn't survive the week without help."

"While that's true, I still don't see how it's your problem. You don't know us."

Her question mirrored my own. If I'm being honest, it was most likely because it was the right thing to do. These people were just trying to get by in a world out to kill anyone and everyone. Doing the 'right' thing wasn't something that came along often in my job.

And now I suddenly have a conscience?

"You need help and I can provide it for now."

She frowned. "For now? So whenever you feel like leaving you're just gonna let us hang high and dry then?"

"Not what I said."

"But you're making it sound like that. I know you need to get back to your people and all, I just need to know how long we have before that happens."

"I don't have an answer. It sounds like the Brotherhood of Steel or The Institute are the only ones who may have the means to help."

Alexandra nodded, but the woman looked defeated. "Diamond City is going to be your best bet; they're the largest settlement in The Commonwealth."

I cocked my head, wasn't she supposed to be worried about me leaving? "Sturges told me about them last night."

"So… so when are you leaving for there?"

Unfortunately, while Sturges gave me a general idea, I don't know where Diamond City is nor what obstacles lie between me and it. "Not until my arm is healed. Probably a week."

"What do you think we can do between now and then to make us safer?"

A ghost of a smile flashed across my lips; here for less than an hour and she was already preparing for the next move. "Set up fortified positions, establish watches, abbreviated combat training. I'll leave the sustainability to you and your people."

Both looked confused. "What does that mean?"

They don't understand what I said? Limited vocabulary?

"Set up defenses and train. You'll have to handle basic supplies: food, water, medicine, ammunition."

"Right, we can take care of that."

I'd been awake for 24 hours and the unconsciousness before that probably didn't count for rest. That along with the injury to my shoulder, my body was screaming for sleep. There were at least 6 more hours of daylight.

"I need to sleep. I'll be here for the next few hours, let me know if anything happens."

Alexandra nodded and turned to leave. Julian's gaze lingered on me a few moments longer, a question clear on his face before he turned to follow his mother back to the rest of the group. Their footsteps barely had time to reach the rest of the group before I felt sleep take hold of my eyelids and force them closed.

-a loud bang and pain lanced through my left arm. An instant later, the pistol was in my hand and aimed at the front door, late afternoon light streaming through the opening and the countless holes in the walls. The undersuit was cold with sweat and blood pounded out of my heart carrying adrenaline with it. Idle conversation made its way from the group, but nothing else out of the ordinary.

I lifted myself into a sitting position and came up to a crouch. The next few minutes were spent clearing the house and immediate area but didn't turn anything up. Returning to the living room, I stood for a moment and forced myself to calm down. My heart was still trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

What is going on? The crash and pain in my shoulder… I'd been sitting when I fell asleep so that must have been me falling over, but why does it feel like I just made it through the largest firefight of my life? I don't remember ever having an adrenaline dump like that. Particularly vivid dream? I cast my thoughts back into the still murky depths of my mind, but none of the operations I've had in the past few years would get to me like that. Before? I wouldn't have had a reaction that acute to anything.

So it was the Covenant attack when I was a child. My eyes drifted back shut as fractured memories began parading by. An acrid, burning smell. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the smell of plasma burns on skin, people being mowed down by the advancing Covenant forces. Bright flashes. Shouting. A lot of shooting. Fire everywhere. My family… I couldn't remember what happened to them, but they died during the assault. I only remember boarding an evac shuttle.

I was covered in mostly dried blood.

The shocked looking woman I was given to barely registered, I merely stared ahead and did what I was told; my brain had shut down, I had shut down. In that moment, just like my family, I didn't exist anymore.

Why was so much missing? I may not be back to 100%, but those feel far more fractured than anything else. Trying to delve further into them had no impact.

What HAPPENED?

I stood there, fuming. How could I not remember what happened to my family? What happened to my home? What the Covenant did to me?

How could I not remember what turned me into this.

After a moment, reason decided to reinsert itself. What happened then is ancient history and didn't help me here. What I need to do now is make sure I and these people have a defensible position. I need a place to recover and they need a home.

Sounds of conversation still floated from the center of town accompanied by the crackling of a fire. I paused once more to calm myself before beginning toward the group.

As long as Preston remained resistant, things would be difficult. How could I convince him to be cooperative? Dammit. I've never dealt with this issue. Either I was operating on my own or, rarely, with soldiers/operatives with the same mission objectives.

30 seconds later I was approaching the group, gathered around a small fire on the concrete floor of the car port. The Minuteman was facing me from where he was seated, eyes glued to my faceplate as I walked under the carport. What was it going to be this time?

"So you're giving us a week of your time?"

I nodded. The question didn't sound like a challenge, at least not as much as I expected. He hesitated, clearly fighting with something.

"Thanks, we need all the help we can get. What do you need us to do?" His voice was still reserved but there was no halting speech pattern or begrudging tone.

It took me a moment to process the question; had he just been… cooperative? Beyond bragging about how good of a shot he is? That was a sharp about face. I looked at the others gathered around the fire, all except for one of the other uninjured men were looking at me expectantly.

"You're willing to cooperate?"

Alexandra answered for him. "We talked and everyone agreed that you deserve our trust, what with what you did and what you told Sturges."

Trust? Might be a bit soon and it isn't exactly necessary as long as you're willing to follow instructions. I opened my mouth, but caught the words before they made themselves heard. Trust is important for a team. Without that, no one makes it out. Don't take it for granted. I don't remember who said that, but it was probably applicable here.

I shrugged mentally; they're trust meant something to them and if they were going to give it…

My head dipped. "Thanks."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Establish a safe fallback position in case of attack, set a patrol schedule and route to alert for an incoming attack, and an effective communication system. Each of you have experience with firearms?" I got nods. "You'll need to build on that. Do any of you know squad tactics, or close quarters and hand to hand combat?"

Preston frowned "We've fought before."

That's a no. "I don't have time to teach you any specifics so you'll have to practice with each other."

"We've all fought before." The Minuteman's voice had It's edge again.

"Fighting and knowing proper strategies and tactics are different. I trust you can hold your own in some fights, but that won't get you far in this position."

"Okay", Alexandra cut in, "how do you want to do this?"

"Up at dawn tomorrow, we'll get started then."

I finished tying off the cord and stepped back to examine the tightly packed bundle of sheet metal. It was large enough to fit 2 or 3 people behind and thick enough to stop anything short of a large caliber armor penetrating round.

Six others laid against the building we'd designated as the primary residence and fallback position, a mostly intact turquoise single story . We had enough material to make a dozen more, several of the houses were framed with steel beams and sheet metal (oddly), but we wouldn't need that many for one house. We can use the others to set up firing positions around town.

While I finished the bundle Sturges and Dan were trying to wrestle another into place behind the living room wall. I dragged mine into the house and propped it up against the doorway. I was about to step forward and grab the pseudo armor plating when I stopped myself.

"Do you want help?"

Sturges grunted, frustrated. "Dammit. Yeah, can you lift this thing far enough to get it in the slots?"

The handyman had come up with a way to anchor the bundles to the house using small brackets bolted to the framing which would allow them to slide in and out so they could replace any that were damaged. Problem for them was they were about a half meter off the ground and the plates must have weighed in at around 500 kilos.

"Yeah."

"Thanks. Next thing I'm gonna do is hinge these things. Don't have material to do that yet though. Maybe pulleys?"

I looped my right arm over the plate and grabbed as far down as I could; since these were a mix of random pieces of material, there were plenty of places to grab hold. Once I'd lifted it into place and lowered the plate down into the brackets, I gave it a tug to make sure the brackets would hold.

"What's it like?"

My gaze turned back on Sturges. He was looking up at me with his own unique mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What are you asking?"

"To be a supersoldier. Seems like everything would be a lot easier if I could just move it out of the way."

While I never told him what I was, the engineer had figured it out pretty quickly.

"I don't think much about it. I just am, have been for a long time." He clearly wasn't satisfied with the answer, but we'd been playing this game for the past four days; he knew he wouldn't get much more out of me.

"You had to have given it some thought, right? You see us struggling with something, or hell even other soldiers from your own military, and then you just come in and do it."

So much for that. Seems like he's given up on the technical details though, he's gone into 'shrink' mode.

"If I can do something, I do it. I've never found it worth the time to think about."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even when you're bulldozing people in a fight?"

People… if that was all I had to fight.

"No."

A smirk dribbled across his face. "Makin' progress." He laughed. "That's more responses than I've ever gotten out of you."

I sighed. "Do you need any more help?"

"Can you put the rest of the plates in? The brackets are all set up."

My feet were carrying me toward the door before I gave them the order.

"Oh come on, we're just having fun!"

"I'm sure you can set up a pulley system."

"The ceiling won't hold it!"

"Build an A-frame." I waved over my shoulder and ducked out of the house.

The late morning sun was beaming through partial cloud cover and gave everything a ruddy brown appearance. Preston, Julian, and Marcy were on watch while Jun, Alexandra, and Murphy were planting a small garden behind the yellow house with a carport. We have enough food to last a few weeks, but whatever they were growing wouldn't be ready to eat before then so at some point they will have to scavenge from the surrounding towns.

More than any time I can remember, I was bored. There wasn't much work to do and I let the group handle most of it; they were the ones who needed the experience. Down time wasn't something I was accustomed to, and it left me with too much time to think. I was eager to get on the move, but my shoulder was still too stiff to be useful. It no longer hurt, but it would be a hindrance in a fight.

A few more days.

In my idle time, I gave the civilians the best crash course in combat tactics I could. Every one of them could handle a firearm, to be expected in their environment. Preston and Sturges were the most experienced of the group, but none of them would last in a protracted fight against skilled opponents.

The mentality was easy enough to see: Preston thought he was a force in combat, which he probably was against the average Raider. Maybe that's all they need in this world of small, separated colonies, but there's always the chance it wasn't. Maybe they were best served moving to one of the larger settlements like Diamond City. The city most likely had their own standing force which would, largely, negate the need for personal defense measures. I'd mentioned the possibility a few days ago, but they didn't hesitate to reject it; they wanted to have their own settlement to live how they wanted, even if that meant a much shorter opportunity to do so.

That was their decision to make.

A quiet chirping caught my attention from the northwest, up the hill. It wasn't the odd bird I'd grown accustomed to, the pattern was too regular and mechanical. The bunker?

Not abandoned.

That lift hadn't been used in a very long time, was it possible someone outside was opening it? A heartbeat later, I was running toward the bridge where Preston was patrolling.

The Minuteman wheeled on me as I approached. "What is it?"

"The bunker up the hill is active. Get everyone back to the safe house. Don't bother putting the armor panels into their brackets, lean them up against the wall, stay in cover until I come back."

Preston had mellowed out since we arrived, but his eyes still narrowed and he grimaced. "And if you don't come back? What, we just stay in hiding?"

I don't have time for your bullshit at the moment; that bunker could spill anything into our laps at any time.

"Keep everyone safe, I'm heading up to stop anything that comes out." I didn't wait for a response before making for the hillside. If this was a feint, I should be able to get back to town before anything happened as long as Preston followed instructions and got everyone to safety.

As I ran, the ground began trembling and the chirping grew louder, more distinct. The lift must have descended into the bunker.

I reached the top of the hill and took cover behind one of the shipping containers inside the fence line on the far side from the town. No more than 10 seconds later the hillside began rumbling again and I could hear the whir and clattering of old, underused machinery. I leaned around the container and aimed the 10mm sidearm at the mouth of the opening left by the platform.

Slowly, the lift emerged, a man wearing a blue jumpsuit with a large yellow 111 embossed in the center of his back. He was facing away from me, left hand shading his eyes, looking out across Sanctuary and into the Commonwealth. He had another 10mm handgun in his right. I couldn't see his face, but something in his body language was off; he held himself gingerly and as he took in the view his shoulders sagged.

"What happened?" The question was so quiet, so defeated, I barely caught it.

The man stood there a moment, mild tremors in his legs and arms. A sob. He dropped the handgun and fell to his knees, then pitched forward onto his hands and dry heaved before retching.

While I may not have seen much in this new world, this wasn't in line with what I had. This guy came out of that bunker which may have been sealed for the past 200 years; this was the first time he was seeing outside.

Several minutes passed without him moving. I didn't have any more time to waste, if this was a ploy I needed to expose it before anything could happen down in Sanctuary. I came around the edge of the container and crept toward him silently. Once I was within a few meters I stopped.

"Don't move."

Naturally he didn't follow the instruction, but not in the way I expected. Before he turned or tried to stand, his right hand darted back toward the grip of his discarded handgun. I had to check my trigger finger and stopped myself from putting a round through the back of his head. He planted his left foot and tried to pivot toward me in his kneel. As the weapon came around I delivered a straight kick to his hand and the pistol careened away from him. He grunted but didn't stop. The man lunged at me, I sidestepped and brought my forearm down on his shoulder blades with enough force to put him on the ground but not quite hard enough to break anything.

I put my foot on his back before he could try anything else. "Do that again and lose your head."

"What do you want? My son wasn't enough for you fuckers? My wife?" He tried to turn. "Tell whoever you work for, I'm going to end them."

"Calm down", I commanded. "You aren't demanding anything. What's your name?"

"Fuck you."

I leaned down and pressed the muzzle to the back of his head. "Try again."

"Eat shit."

I wasn't going to fire; he wasn't a threat, but this guy was clearly agitated and a gun on him wasn't going to get him talking. Try a different approach.

"What happened to your son and wife?"

"What are you talking about? You people killed her and stole my son."

"Were they in the bunker with you?"

"Of course they were." His voice was incredulous.

"Then I didn't do anything with them. Calm down and explain."

He hesitated. Was he thinking? Or was the man ignoring me?

"Let me get up first."

It was my turn to hesitate. That jumpsuit didn't leave much room for hiding another weapon.

Even if it did, what is he going to do?

I stood and stepped away. His first attempt didn't go well when he put pressure on his right hand and collapsed back to the ground with a groan. A moment passed and he got his knees under him, stood and turned. The customary shocked expression crossed the man's face as he looked up at me, and then to the muzzle pointed at his head.

"Now explain."

Whoever this guy was, he didn't seem to mind the weapon; he was still clearly upset but if anything he looked mildly incredulous."How do I know you aren't with them?"

Whoever them are. Can someone make sense for once?

"Take my word for it."

"Bullshit, I want proof."

Is this guy serious? If I was with whoever he thought I was, what good would asking him do? Could he be stalling for someone to attack the town? Not unless there was another entrance to the bunker. I shook my head. "I'm out of patience, are you trying to stall? What's your play?"

"I want my son back."

Whatever. "Go." I motioned with the handgun down the path toward Sanctuary. "You won't get far if you run."

Despite whatever was going through his head, the guy wasn't dumb; he looked from me to the gun and back before turning and marching down the trail. There was something different about this one, he had training and experience. Could he be a part of the Brotherhood of Steel? If I get the chance, I'll take a look in that bunker; from first glance it seems as though it's much more robust than anything else I've seen. He clutched his hand to his chest as we walked. I don't know if I kicked it hard enough to break anything, but metal usually won against bone.

As soon as Sanctuary came into sight, he stopped and his shoulders sagged.

"What happened? What happened?"

I grabbed his shoulder best I could with my left hand before he had a chance to run into the neighborhood. It was as much to keep him from getting shot as it was to protect the others. "Slow down. What do you mean?"

He rounded on me, wide eyed with desperation. "What hap- the bombs." The man's head snapped back to the houses across the river. "This isn't right. The war, the bombs. I was just- we were just-" He looked off into the distance, toward where downtown Boston should be. By now his body was wracked with tremors. "I don't understand, how can everything be like this?" His voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the dilapidated, rust ridden shells that were, at one point, houses.

Bombs… he's talking about the nuclear world war that turned the planet into a wasteland. He was talking about it like he'd been there. "You were around during the war?"

The term 'saw a ghost' never applied to anything better than the look on the man's face. "I- I watched a nuke hit Boston." He paused, clearly fighting with what he wanted to say next. "Why is there no fighting? No war? Why does everything look like it has been destroyed and left to rot?" The look on his face made it clear he didn't want the actual answer; he knew, or at least had an idea. He was desperate to hear anything else.

"The war happened 200 years ago."

Somehow, his eyes widened even further with disbelief and he sagged out of my grip to the ground. "2- 200… 200… years?" The man's face was pale white.

This guy isn't acting. I recognized the same disbelief and confusion I'd felt when I first arrived.

"No… No… No. No. No. No. No, we were just here. I just had- Nora had Shaun and we went into the vault- they said it was decontamination, those pods. How am I here?" The words were coming so quickly they were fighting to get out. He sat, staring at the collection of partially collapsed houses muttering to himself. I could relate to how he felt but I've never had the luxury of allowing something like this to shut me down. Should I try to get him moving again? I watched the man buried deep in denial. Probably not; he isn't a threat at the moment.

Decontamination pods? Wouldn't be time travel right? How else can someone pass through 200 years without noticing? Simple solution is usually the right one. "Cryogenics. You were frozen."

The muscles in the man's neck almost seemed to creak as he turned his head to look at me. "Frozen?" He said the word as if it was the most mysterious subject he'd ever heard of. He struggled to his feet. "Can I- I used to live here- can I go see my house?"

"Which is it?"

"Small blue one, 4 houses to the left of the bridge."

Of course it's the safe house. "We'll see."

Confusion dominated the man's face as he looked back at me. "Can you help- can you help me? What do I do? I have to get my son but… this world… the time I've lost- we've lost. I don't know what to do."

I wish I could; I was in the same boat. "I don't know. Are you good to move?" He nodded numbly. "Cross the bridge, go to the yellow house in the middle of town with the carport. My statement about running stands."

Without another word, he began walking again. My attention was split between him and the safe house- that at one point in the distant past had been his. Those in the group with itchy trigger fingers were a worry, so I stuck close and put myself between him and the house in case one of them couldn't hold their water. For his part, the guy was still looking around, eyes wide and face white.

As we reached the house, Preston emerged and approached the carport. "What's going on here?"

The man sat down on the concrete floor, hard. "This man came out of the bunker at the top of the hill. Says he's from before the war."

"Bunker?" Preston studied the man. "That was a Vault." I cocked my head. "Vaults were fallout shelters made by Vault-Tec. They were pretty shady. Most Vaults weren't to protect people, they were running experiments. This guy says he's from before the war? He doesn't look like a Ghoul, how is that possible?"

"Cryogenics."

"Cryo-what?"

"He was frozen."

The Minuteman still looked confused but his face said he wanted to leave that for later. "Hey, I know this is probably hard but can you tell me your name? Where are you from?"

He pointed at the blue one story. "Nate."

I smirked. Well… he got what he asked for.

Preston looked even more confused now. "You're from the north?"

A shaking head. "That's my house."

"Oh." He looked between the safe house and our guest. "You lived there… before the war?"

Suddenly, a switch was thrown I didn't know was there. Nate jumped to his feet. "Yes I lived there goddammit." His voice was equal measures harsh and desperate. "I need to find my son. He was less than a year old when he was taken. He- he-" the man's voice broke and it was a moment before he'd gathered himself again. "He won't survive out here. I need to find him. I need to find him."

"Calm down for a-"

"No! I'm not calming down. You're telling me to calm down. This asshole told me to calm down." He motioned at me. "My son is missing and no one else seems to care."

This isn't going to get us anywhere; I stepped forward. "Do you know where he was taken?"

A moment's hesitation. "No."

"Who took him?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know why he was taken?"

"No." The man's face began to fall back to its state of disbelief and desperation.

"How long ago was he taken?"

"Not- not that long. I don't think."

"So you don't have any information."

Nate's eyes stabbed into my visor, wild, searching for- hoping for answers. "I saw one. I saw the one that shot my wife. And there was another, someone in some sort of HAZMAT suit."

I looked at Preston. He just shrugged. "Diamond City is his best bet."

Diamond City seems to be your answer for everything.

"What's Diamond City?"

"It's the largest city around here. A long time ago, someone set up a city in the old baseball park."

Confusion joined the melody of emotions on the man's face. "Fenway? Fenway Park is the largest… 'city' here? How many people live there?"

"I don't know, a little over a thousand maybe."

"A thousand? As in one thousand?"

That was my response.

It was Preston's turn to look confused. "Yes."

"Is that normal?" He looked at me.

I shrugged.

"Well… downtown is a good 20 miles away, are there at least any cars we can use?"

With what's left of everything around here… He followed my gaze to the rusting hulk that used to be his car. When I looked back at Nate, much of the disbelief was gone, replaced by steel. That expression is one I've seen before; he had a mission and objective. It was time to move.

"I need to leave then, I can't let these guys have a bigger head start."

Preston shook his head. "Look friend, there's a lot going on here I don't know about, but I do know trekking to Diamond City on your own is going to get you killed."

Some of the confusion returned to Nate's expression. "Wha- why?"

"Raiders, Ferals, Super Mutants, Yao Guai, any of the various bugs." The Minuteman paused for a moment before, in a much quieter voice adding, "gunners." He shook his head. "That's without any of the hotspots or rad-storms. I understand wanting to go after your son but doing so right now wouldn't do anyone any good."

"I don't know what any of that means but- but I can't just sit here. I have to go. I have to find Shaun."

Preston looked at me.

"I'm not leaving yet."

"He's right, the longer he waits, the further his son's kidnappers get."

"I'm taking enough risks with the number of unknowns on the way."

He scoffed. "Looked like you dealt with those Raiders easy enough. This one isn't about what you need, it's what he needs." Preston waved at Nate.

I didn't have to help you, but I did. I looked at Nate. I hadn't even agreed to bring this man along. My objective is to get back to my reality as quickly as possible and this injury has already delayed that long enough; the last thing I need is an anchor. On top of that, why was Preston assuming I would agree to babysit this guy across almost 30 clicks of hostile territory I had no intel on?

My gaze returned to the Minuteman. "Don't volunteer me."

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the two of them and past the rest of the group who had congregated around the carport.

Would be a perfect time for someone to attack.

I spent the rest of the day walking the perimeter around Sanctuary. The others left me alone, as had become customary while I was on patrol. I was grateful this time; I needed the space. Nate wasn't in the same position I am, technically speaking, but our situations were similar, enough that it drew my mind back to the question 'how?' It wasn't a useful question to ask; regardless of how much time I spent contemplating it, I didn't have the scientific background to even begin to develop a theory. But how could I not? I'm in an alternate reality (probably). In addition, the possibility remains that if I do find a group this world considers scientifically advanced, they don't have the ability to do so either. Not only are they 300 calendar years behind, but the war this version of Earth suffered seems to have set them back another half millenium. That possibility was terrifying, or as close as something could be. At the end of the day it would just be another change; I'd adapt and survive.

Light from the sun was fading over the brown, pockmarked horizon and I was standing by the western bridge when someone came to find me. Alexandra, Sturges, or Julian usually brought me a few things to eat and some water. It was… nice. Nice to have someone who genuinely seemed to give a damn, even if it was because I was their best chance at survival.

And they were still scared of me.

This wasn't one of them though. The gait was wrong, too heavy, closer to a march. I didn't have to look to know Nate was approaching from the town.

Is he coming to ask? What else would he want from me?

"You sprained my wrist." Sarcasm? I guess he's trying to redo first impressions.

"I guessed."

He walked up beside me and stopped, studying the dimming landscape. We stood in silence until the light dissipated. What was his play? He wants me to escort him to Diamond City, but is he playing the waiting game? How is that going to work?

"Your friends told me a little about you." I turned to see him looking up at me. "They said you don't like to talk."

"I don't have much to say?"

The man smiled. "It usually makes meeting people a bit easier." His pause afterward was asking for me to fill it, but I could see where the conversation was going; if he wanted to go down this road I wasn't going to move it along. "They also told me you're a supersoldier of some sort from a different reality. Not like the regular people we have in power armor here. Kind of a weird explanation but…" he grimaced, "well nothing makes much sense right now."

"Ask."

"Would you say 'yes'?"

"Haven't thought about it."

Nate huffed. "Sounds like a 'no'." A shrug. "I've got a few days to convince you if you aren't willing to leave earlier. After getting briefed on what's out there, I don't think I'm in any condition to chase after Shaun. As much as I need to."

"You're military."

"Was. 16 years. Saw a lot of action. Never met a soldier- anyone like you. How long have you been in?"

"A while."

"Yeah. They said you didn't like to talk about that."

"They don't need to know." The words seemed to fall out as if on their own but I didn't see any need to revise them.

"Do you have something to hide?"

That's a dangerous question. I turned my head to look back down at him. "You don't need to know either."

He held up his hands, the right was in a makeshift splint. "I won't pry, I know how that goes."

While I don't think he was trying to be manipulative, he had an ulterior motive. It didn't help him that I know what it is. I squared my shoulders to him. "Being personable and 'getting to know' me aren't going to help; I don't appreciate being exploited."

"I got that." I waited for the explanation. "I'm here because I need help, but if I'm going to ask for your help I need to know what I'm getting into. I'm not a charity case, I will find another way even if you're the most convenient option. Shit, that and a conversation with someone not from an apocalypse would be nice."

"I'm not the right person for small talk."

Nate gave me a wry expression. "You don't say." He shook his head. "A few hours ago I was talking with my wife about taking Shaun to a Vet's event on a beautiful autumn day. You don't remind me that my world is gone with every word you say; you don't have the same… vulnerability they do. Damn that was a nice word; Nora would have been proud." He offered a sad smile, but he was choking down a sob behind it. Even I could see that.

Pain… now there's something I know.

But this still isn't the same as helping Alexandra's group. Regardless of what happened in Concord, I needed information and a place to rest and heal. They've been useful for both. Escorting Nate across 20 miles of hostile ground when he would slow me down dramatically which would increase the likelihood of a fight he would then be a liability in wasn't enticing. If it was five years ago, I would have refused him outright. If it was 10 months ago, before I'd been assigned to Fourier's squad, I would have said 'no'. I was still on the verge of doing so.

I guess all Fourier's effort to 'improve my personal relationships' was doing something.

Then there was the reason he was asking, and it hit too close to home. I wasn't sure if it was pushing me toward or away from accepting the added baggage.

Nate grunted. "Can I ask you something?" I shrugged. "Would you... answer if I did?"

"Maybe."

"Do you have a family?"

I stared at him.

Do I have a family? No, they're all dead. I know they're all dead because I know I watched them die, but I can't remember anything about it.

My hands balled into fists involuntarily and I felt the same frustration I buried when I'd remembered this the other day surge back into focus. The same images flashed through my mind, if anything even more vivid than they had before.

What gave you the right to ask something like that?

Pain, anger, rage, sadness, loss, and a gaping, vast numbness all fought for my attention. My mind was being bombarded with questions I had no answers for. I shut them off, tuned the emotions and the questions out and shoved them as far away as I could. No, I wasn't here to deal with this, I'm here to accomplish my next mission.

But the fury didn't subside.

This isn't useful, anger will only impede my ability to make sound decisions.

Logic, sound reasoning, it didn't matter. For the first time in a long time I was pissed. Maybe it wasn't at Nate, but he was the one who'd asked.

I need to leave.

So that's what I did; without another word, I turned and left the smaller man to wonder what happened.

Why can't I remember? What's in the way?

As far as I can remember, I hadn't thought about this in years, so why is it surfacing now? Why is it coming back up when I need a sound mind and clear path forward? Why can't I put it back away?

No… there was one time before this. Amanda, one of the IV's had asked about my childhood after I'd been with the squad two and a half months. They were always doing that, prodding at me, trying to get me to open up the same way the shrinks had once the SPARTAN III project had originally been integrated. There were a few of us who weren't easy cases to crack.

Unfortunately for me, her, and everyone else I didn't remember much of my childhood; hard to when it only lasts 4 or 5 years.

Those first few months were extremely quiet times; it was too much time not moving, acting, fighting. It gave them too much time to ask questions and me too much time to think. I hadn't walked off when she asked, but I didn't answer either.

"HEY! ASSHOLES!" The voice coming from the south bank was amplified through the most distorted speaker I'd ever heard.

What now?

"YOU'RE SURROUNDED SO IT'S TIME WE HAD A LITTLE TALK. SEND OUT WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE OR WE START SHOOTING."