A/N: Hello everyone and well wishes from my strange perch atop the world of unusual crossovers. We've made it to chapter number 10! I apologize, this chapter doesn't have a whole lot of action but there are reasons for that (character development *gasp*). Anyways, I won't waste more of your time so you can waste it reading my work (:D). As always, enjoy!

A/N 2: Well hello again. I've said before how I don't like posting chapter revisions without posting a new chapter as well (which is part of the reason why I haven't edited earlier chapters) but this is an exception. This chapter is extremely important to the story and I felt I didn't give it enough of my time. It isn't subtle, but a lot of what drives Damon to be who/what he is is laid out here in his conversations with Ellie and Nate. So I decided I'd give it the respect it deserves and rewrote a lot of the chapter. Anyways, I'd encourage anyone who read this before to reread it; a lot of the important pieces have changed and that's going to affect things down the line. As always: enjoy!

Chapter 10: Confusing Times

The dark sky dotted with motes of light was just as incredible as it had been every night so far. The experience was strange; the stars never made it through the ever present light pollution of most modern cities. Being in the center of what had been a major city and looking up to see a sky that would make the most remote forests jealous was… odd.

In the half hour since leaving Fort Hagen, we had come across several stray dogs, a few more of the giant hairless rats, and what seemed to be half meter long cockroaches. They all made for quick knife work; from what Valentine had said, I was expecting a bit… more.

I had discarded the laser rifle and retrieved mine from the detective. It was a perfectly serviceable weapon, but it was also Institute tech; better to stick with something familiar long term.

There hadn't been any signs of Brotherhood patrols, but that didn't mean anything; snipers and scouts made a living off of observing unnoticed, and these guys would certainly be better than Raiders. It was impossible to tell if we were being watched in an area like this, especially at night.

On the other hand, maybe it was best nothing more dangerous had come out yet. As much as I tried, I couldn't get my head back on straight. The flood of memories had calmed, but the images and emotions still occupied the majority of my processing power. Fighting anything tougher might prove… problematic. The issue was I had never meant to confront… whatever the cocktail of sadness, anger, pain, loss, and numbness was. I never expected to live long enough to. None of my handlers or trainers ever told me, but it didn't take long to figure out III's were 'disposable'. That had been fine by me, as far as I was concerned, the scared little boy I'd been died along with everything I knew. If whatever I had become didn't last long either, so be it.

Guess neither of those worked out. Turns out I'm a lot better at surviving than ONI or I gave myself credit for. Same way it turns out that scared little kid wasn't gone.

Valentine had been quiet since we finished talking about Nate. Once we were out of the fort, he was silent for obvious reasons, but we sat in silence for several hours before leaving. Was he doing that to let me think, or was he trying to find more questions?

It didn't matter, I needed to focus on getting my head back in the right place, moving forward, and getting to the Institute. That's what I was telling myself at least, but it didn't have the same ring as normal. I had a feeling, no matter how hard I tried to shut that door, it was open for good now.

Good, maybe it's time for me to come to terms with it.

And how is that going to help me get to the Institute.

Probably won't, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be done.

That doesn't mean it should either.

And if I have another reaction like that?

… Right.

Sporadic neighborhoods blended into suburbs, and then the city proper. A few more random, small animals tried their luck, but I barely noticed as I sent them to join their pals. Once we were in the city, the threat of Supermutants pushed me to regain at least some semblance of my usual perceptiveness. The last thing I needed at this point was for one of those things to pop off a random shot and hit Valentine.

Eventually, the lights from Diamond City began seeping through the broken, crumbling buildings that had once been Boston. A few minutes of skirting down alleyways and climbing over piles of rubble later, Valentine and I found ourselves in front of the large lot surrounding the stadium, illuminated by powerful floodlights. After a moment of waiting, and a short conversation with the guards, we were walking back through the tunnel into Fenway Park.

Nothing had really changed since we left the day prior, I was only one step closer to my objective but… everything felt different. The bustling crowd at the center of town was much smaller than it had been during the day, but the din seemed to pierce deeper into my head than it had before. The multitude of colorful signs felt more vibrant than they were the first night here. Even the people milling around the place were less… muted.

"Hey." I turned to the detective; he was studying me with that same, appraising gaze. "You still thinking about the attack?" His tone was a lot more mellow than it had been back at Hagen. Was that because he was afraid of me too?

"Why?"

"You didn't seem as sharp on the walk back. And now you're standing there staring at the market like you've never seen people before."

Damn, if he noticed I wasn't all there…

It is his job to see things like that.

"Yes."

"Makes sense- seems like you've been packing that down for a long time. I don't make a very good shrink, but if you don't want to talk to Nate about it, I'd tap Ellie on the shoulder. She knows her way around… rough memories."

How would talking about this help? I don't need to understand those memories, I need them to leave me alone.

And if they won't until I understand them?

Then- I don't know. I don't know what to do with any of this.

Maybe it would be best to listen to someone who does.

They don't either. They haven't had to deal with the Covenant.

No, but they seem well acquainted with traumatic experiences.

I don't want to talk with anyone about something that personal.

And if it gets in the way of finding the Institute?

No answer came to mind. I was in no state of mind to handle a difficult engagement, but I didn't see how talking to a stranger about problems I didn't understand would help matters.

The internal argument wasn't going to get me anywhere, so I shrugged and started toward the detective's office. Valentine followed after with a muttered "good talk".

As I squeezed myself into the small shack, Nate, who was sitting on one of the decrepit chairs in the center of the room with Ellie across from him, regarded me with a mixture of anger, frustration, and hope. I moved out of the doorway to allow the detective to enter, but the ex-soldier's gaze never left me. I'm not sure why but… it was difficult to meet his eyes.

Ellie was the first to break the silence.

"I don't see any new holes, I'll take that as a sign of success."

Valentine nodded. "Yep. Soldier boy made us wait until nightfall with the Brotherhood making their grand entrance which-"

"The Brotherhood?" Alarm crept over the woman's face.

"One problem at a time Ellie. That's why we didn't make it back until late, but our resident one man army made sure Kellogg won't be hurting anyone again."

Nate squinted at me. "He's dead?"

Valentine nodded. "Took a shot to the head. Pretty sure that isn't survivable, even for that bastard."

"So how'd adding another body to the count feel?"

The anger in his voice woke a small portion of the latent irritation I'd come to associate with the ex-soldier.

"Nate, it's probably a good idea to leave him alone at the moment. The… fight was a bit more difficult than I think our friend was expecting."

"Oh yeah? You're p-"

Ellie stood. "What did you find?"

"I think Kellogg was waiting for you to find him", Valentine motioned at the smaller man and pulled out the drive. "He made this. Judging from who made it for him, I'm guessing it's a memory drive."

The secretary look surprised. "Amari?" Valentine nodded. "It's too late to see her tonight, but you should be able to drop in tomorrow."

Nate's attention switched from me to the small drive the detective was holding. "Memory drive?"

"There's a business in Goodneighbor called the Memory Den. If I'm right, this will have fragments of Kellogg's memory, most likely related to what's happened to your son."

If you're right? He told us it does.

"So… we go there and watch them?"

Ellie shook her head. "No, it's a Brain-Machine Interface that lets you relive experiences or live new ones."

BMI? They have BMI's they use for recreation, yet they're living in the ruins of a stadium?

"Why would he make something so complicated?"

"That I don't have a great answer for", Valentine replied. "Best guess is he didn't just want you to know the information, but wanted you to understand it from his perspective."

The ex-soldier recoiled. "Why would I want to do that?"

"We won't know until you dive in and take a look."

"Why me?"

"Well I can't, Ellie had… a bad experience there once, and I seriously doubt he will." The detective motioned at me.

Nate grimaced, but still nodded. "Okay. It's to get Shaun back, I'll do whatever I need to."

"Good. On that front", Valentine looked at me, "I think you should sit this part out."

"Why?"

"The route from here to Goodneighbor is pretty safe, and you being there would draw too much unwanted attention. The people there, they don't scare easy. They're more likely to shoot at you than run away, no matter how big and scary you are."

Leave an op to someone else? That isn't something I did; it's hard enough to trust people I'm running one with, but to remove myself from the picture completely? Especially with this many unknowns? That seems like a very bad idea.

"I'm not comfortable with that."

"Oh", Nate muttered, "so now being left behind is a problem."

Valentine smirked. "That isn't a surprise but I know Goodneighbor, and I know the type of person who lives there. Trust me when I say you're the type of person they'd want to pick a fight with."

"Until one of them does."

"Maybe, maybe not. No point in taking that risk. I know the place's mayor, we'll be safe."

Didn't I have the same thought when we first got to Diamond City? That the attention I drew probably outweighed any protection I could provide? If Goodneighbor is even close to the same size, and the people there are more likely to engage, wouldn't the same logic hold?

But leaving this up to Nate? That didn't sit right.

If it gets the job done, oh well.

My indecision must have come across in my body language. "Look friend, if you insist on going, well there isn't much we can do to stop you. If you want this to go off without too much trouble though, you'll trust me."

He hasn't given me a reason to doubt him so far.

By what? Staying out of the way during a fight?

Yes, and he's clearly intelligent. Besides, if he has experience in Goodneighbor, it would make sense to listen to him. It's the same as listening to any field asset during an op.

And I need some time to sort out this mess I call a head.

"Fine."

Valentine exhaled. "Thank you. We'll leave in the morning, I think right now would be a good time for some shut eye."

The others nodded their agreement, but I wasn't in any mood to sleep. What else was I going to do though? Sit here and wallow in the mess of thoughts and memories that was my mind? That isn't going to help. Wander around the stadium? I don't need to call more attention to myself. Scout the city? I wasn't in any condition to fight a competent enemy, and accidentally killing someone I wasn't supposed to would only cause more problems.

So as the others settled down to sleep, I was sitting in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Nate and Valentine each cast several glances in my direction, both for clearly different reasons, but I wasn't about to talk with either of them about the torrent in my head.

Unless I can fall asleep, it's going to be a long night.

Yeah… I didn't see that happening.

I should be going with them.

Not if my presence puts the group in danger.

"You have someone with you this time; do your best to stay out of trouble."

And if they get in trouble anyways?

Valentine has survived this long without me; he knows how to handle himself.

Valentine grinned at his secretary. "It's just Goodneighbor."

It's never a good idea to leave things like this up to others, especially non-SPARTANS in dangerous situations.

"And you haven't made any enemies there."

Because I've never screwed an op.

"Well… you know how it goes there."

I'm going to regret this...

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to him." Nate glanced at me. "I might not be as good at killing people as him, but I spent most of my life fighting." The guy was taking a shot at me at the same time he was trying to assure Perkins; well the dislike is mutual.

"Most of the people there have been too." She shook her head. "It's fine, but if you come back with any more holes in you, I'm chaining you to your desk, understood?"

Valentine gave her an only half mocking salute. "Yes ma'am." The detective's attention switched to me. "Take some time, do a little thinking. You'll be surprised how much good sorting all that out will do you."

Probably not. I shrugged.

The secretary scowled at him. "Stop being so nosey and go."

He laughed as the two of them began toward the door. "That's kinda my job Ellie."

Once the door swung shut, Ellie walked past me, back to the desk and sat down. She pulled a bottle from one of the drawers and drank.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. I'm from Goodneighbor and Nick is right: that place can be dangerous, but they do have their own… strange sense of integrity."

I looked down at the woman. Was I concerned they would be attacked?

Would I want to go with them so badly if I wasn't?

I'm concerned about them fumbling the op.

Considering the only way I could assist is keeping them safe, isn't that the same thing?

"I just like to remind Nick he needs to be more careful. He's always been rough looking, but that body of his has gathered a few new dings and dents over the years."

She said she was from Goodneighbor? "You lived there?"

Ellie nodded. "Yep. I even met Nick there a long time ago."

"What threats will they face?"

She smiled. "Just thugs and overpriced vendors. It is good to know you care about their safety, but really, they'll be okay. John Hancock, the mayor there, he and Nick are on good terms."

"They are the only lead I have to the Institute."

"All the same, thank you for getting Nick back here from both the Vault and your fight with Kellogg safe."

"It's my-" An image of my parents, and the other members of our neighborhood fighting the incoming Covenant flashed through my head and I faltered.

Was it their job to fight?

This isn't the same. These people aren't my family, they're a means to an end.

"Job?" My attention snapped back to the secretary. "That's fine, it doesn't mean what you did was any less important. Nick and I have helped more people than I can remember, but each one is important, and both of us are emotionally invested every time."

What they did and what I do are completely different.

So? Why does that mean what she's saying isn't applicable?

"Would you mind running a few errands with me? We're running a bit low on a few things."

It's better than sitting in here alone to stew in my own self pity.

I nodded.

"Great!" She stood and pulled a small pouch from the desk, the telltale rattle of bottle caps within. I still couldn't grasp how they'd adopted that as the standard form of currency. With the pouch tucked into a pocket, the secretary led me out into the morning sun.

Noise from the bustling market was omnipresent, but now the din was loud enough to interfere with the sea of images and emotions I was still doing my best to control. Several people were milling in the alley outside; each of them stopped and stared as I emerged from the small shack.

"So", Ellie said as she began toward the market, "we just need to stop by three shops. By then I think our little away party should be there." She sounded unaware of the glares, but her subtle glances at the people around us said she knew exactly what these people were thinking.

People here are different. I guess it comes with the territory.

I felt the stares follow me as we exited the isle and turned toward the already busy market. Just like last night, the cacophony of footsteps, talking, clattering wares, sizzling food, and whatever else was filling the air seemed to reach deeper into my mind than before. What was happening?

What hadn't changed was the overwhelming flood of information my already beleaguered mind struggled to process.

The secretary began skirting the edge of the crowd, thankfully staying out of the bustling tangle of people. She led me to a small storefront where she began speaking with the vendor there.

More stares from the collection of civilians damn near sent my body and eyes searching for the best cover.

Relax. Breathe.

Yeah, relax in the middle of all this. Right.

After what felt like an eternity of working our way around the shops, we began back toward the small office. When she wasn't speaking with the vendors, Perkins was talking about her time in Goodneighbor, her time with Valentine, some of their former partners, cases they've taken, and her opinions of Diamond City. It was… interesting, and at least gave me something to focus on besides the disaster zone that had once been my mind, and the deluge of sensory inputs around me. The secretary didn't seem to mind my lack of contribution to the one sided conversation.

Back in the alley leading to the shack, she turned to me. "Sorry, I forgot to ask: is there anything you needed?" I shook my head. "Okay, let's go put this crap away; I'd like to sort a few things out before they get back."

There was something strangely soothing about the way she spoke. It was almost like- almost like she was talking with a regular person. No clipped tone, no anger or fear, no prodding questions or requests. Even with the people at Sanctuary, there were guarded voices and careful choice of words. With Ellie, the chatter flowed as if talking with me was no more unusual than this shopping trip for her. The only time I'd experienced anything similar was with Fourier's squad, but even then, they were all IV's. No one is this comfortable around myself or the other III's I've seen.

Maybe these people are different.

How?

They've all clearly been through a lot and no one here knows where the older generation SPARTANs came from.

So when they find out what I am…?

Their attitudes probably won't change. Valentine's didn't. Unlike the UNSC, even during the last days of the War, most people were still oblivious to how bad things were. These people have to fight for their lives every day; it's possible what I am doesn't scare them.

What about the group in Sanctuary? They were clearly afraid, especially when we first met.

They were in a unique situation, right?

… Maybe.

Once we were back in the office, the secretary deposited her purchases with the rest of the supplies we'd taken from Kellogg's house before sitting at her desk. She glanced at me, still standing in the entryway, before pulling out a few folders and began leafing through them.

"It seems like something's bothering you, Damon." I cocked my head. "You look more uncomfortable than normal."

Than normal?

"What?"

"I don't take you for someone who gets distracted easily, but you've seemed that way since you and Nick got back last night. Did you two find something?"

You could say that.

"Why are you so comfortable around me?"

She gave me a questioning look. "Should I not be?"

"Most people aren't."

Perkins leaned back in her chair. "Well I'd be crazy if I didn't think you were a bit scary, but you don't strike me as a bad person. Maybe a bit awkward, but not malicious. I- I've dealt with plenty of those people."

My mind found the room to flash images of shooting, stabbing, and mauling humans and Covenant alike, destroyed insurrectionist bases, both allies and enemies glaring at me with naked disdain. Those memories mixed with the already painful recollections of my childhood home being torn away.

"A lot of people would disagree."

"Maybe, but those people aren't me."

My eyes narrowed. She didn't know me, we met three days ago. How could she come up with an opinion in that time? Especially given how little we've interacted.

"Why?"

"I wasn't sure until last night, when you were so determined to go with them but still conceded."

"It was the best course of action."

"Yes, but evil people with power like to use it whenever they can. And this morning, you may have been asking for your own peace of mind, but you seemed genuinely concerned for their safety."

"I told you, they're my best lead."

She shrugged. "That's true, but you don't need to convince me of anything."

"What makes you think it was anything else?"

Why am I having this conversation?

"Meeting with and talking to more people than I care to admit. Back in Goodneighbor, I met hundreds, maybe thousands of people from all walks of life. It's something you pick up on after enough time."

How will this help?

"And how would that help you understand me?"

"I've been around people- well maybe not people exactly like you, but similar. I can tell you've been fighting since you were young, and you don't know how to do much else; that can really mess with someone's head, and that you're still as well put together as you are says a lot."

I don't understand why I'm doing this. Despite my reservations, I felt myself dragged along by some strange force. It was like my mind was pulling me toward something, but I wasn't sure what.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you have a good head on your shoulders despite whatever happened; that takes a special type of person."

A good head on my shoulders? What did that mean? What did that mean to her? What did that mean to me?

"And you would know this how?"

The secretary frowned, suddenly looking very somber. "Goodneighbor had a bit of everything. That included orphans, kids who had to fight every day of their lives just to survive and do it again the next day. I saw more than a few of them do things… things I'd never imagine even the most cruel adult doing to get a scrap of food." She looked at me, eyes glassy with a film of tears. "I don't know if that's what happened to you, but I understand how a situation like that can destroy a person."

Even though she didn't have the slightest idea of what I'd been through, the secretary seemed to understand… somehow. I don't know if what I've done is 'cruel', at least not outside the realm of what was called for given the circumstances. Still, she hit strikingly close to home with the statement. Was that same sort of desperation driving me as well? I had a hard time buying that given my fight isn't one of survival. It was one of revenge.

Was it? Is it? The Covenant are gone and I'm still alive, aren't I? Despite everything? Have I been fighting for survival all this time?

No… I don't think so. I never intended to survive this long did I? That was just a happy coincidence (though, I doubt anyone outside of ONI was 'happy' about it). Killing Covenant was what drove me into the SPARTAN program. It's what kept me calm in countless unwinnable situations, kept me thinking, and saw me come out on top. Kept me going through injury that should have left me incapacitated. Even if that wasn't against the Covenant. Every op I successfully completed was one more chance to go back in the field and take more of my anger out on those bastards.

Was it?

What else would it be?

I didn't respond for a while. This woman didn't know anything about what happened to me, but there was a quiet sort of understanding radiating from her and her soft, almost vulnerable gaze.

It was… odd. The expression almost felt inviting, like she was silently encouraging me to open up, to think, and to talk. It was disarming, slowly, gently pushing away walls I'd built for years to withstand any bombardment I could throw at them.

"I-"

She shook her head. "I don't need you to tell me anything about what happened, what you've done, or what you think about it. I just thought you should know, you may be intimidating, but I'm not scared of you. And I don't think you're a bad person." She smiled at me sadly. "Maybe just a bit lost."

'Not a bad person.' It wasn't a resounding endorsement, but it was… interesting to hear it from someone. I don't think anyone has ever said that. The feeling of, I don't know, comfort? was similar to how I felt a few times with the group in Sanctuary.

It was… strangely warm.

And suddenly the urge to talk about what happened flooded my mind, like telling someone would finally lift a ten ton weight from my chest. Not just what happened… but what happened to me.

But why? What good would telling her about the attack do?

What harm would it do? Do I have anything else to do at the moment?

It's personal.

I think it's pretty clear she respects that. Besides, is that going to be my excuse for the rest of my life?

I couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse, but it felt so wrong to tell someone I'd just met a few days prior about the attack. About what made me… me.

The secretary was still looking at me, her expression one of solemn understanding. But even though her face was almost calming, she didn't look expectant. Without saying anything, Perkins was telling me she knew how painful those memories were. She appreciated how difficult they were to talk about. Ellie didn't want me to tell her.

So I didn't. I did what was familiar: sat against one of the shack's supports and began disassembling my rifle.

As I did, Perkins began talking again. By the time I had the upper upper receiver off and bolt carrier out, she was deep into another story. This one wasn't hers though, it was about one of the children she had referred to earlier.

And that's how we spent the next hour: I disassembled, cleaned, and lubricated my rifle, handgun and the sniper, the secretary gave me a few rags, solvent, and oil, while she continued narrating stories. This time though, it was different; the chatter didn't feel like it was there to fill the empty space I generally left in a conversation. This time, her stories felt directed at me, like she was helping me understand… something. I wasn't sure what that something was, but it was… nice. It was nice to be around someone who didn't want anything from me, and was perfectly comfortable with me and my customary silence.

By the time a rap on the door signalled Nate and Valentine's return, my weapons were spotless, and my mind was a little better organized. I could almost call it peaceful.

The detective flopped down in another chair behind the desk while Perkins resumed her seated position. "That wasn't boring."

Nate eyed me as he stood in the doorway.

"What happened this time", the secretary asked.

"Same old, same old. Got a little visit from Hancock though."

"Nothing new?"

"Nope."

The ex-soldier's eyes hadn't left me. He looked hesitant; he hadn't moved from the entrance. Had Valentine said anything?

"So now you two need to work out how you're going to move forward."

Both of us shifted our eyes to the detective.

"What do you mean", Nate asked.

"Well, are you two going to stick together? I get the feeling you both have something the other wants at this point."

Continue working with the ex-soldier? When he interferes with everything?

Maybe Valentine is right, maybe I should talk with him.

Should I?

He was right about Ellie wasn't he?

He was…

Is two for two a major stretch?

I ran the thought back and forth. How would this work? I tell Nate and if he's still unwilling to cooperate I cut him loose? But how would telling him what happened help? Would he be able to understand or appreciate it?

If there's one thing I should give him the benefit of the doubt on it's that. He has technically spent more time on active duty than me. He's certainly seen his share of shit.

But would it help the situation?

He may be more sympathetic.

Right, because sympathy has served me so well in the past.

It might be helpful if I make a few concessions too. If he knows how to get to the Institute now, he has information I need. Valentine might be right about him too. Maybe I should bring him with me, he is trying to get his son back.

So I'm going to make that my problem too huh?

Maybe I need to have more sympathy here too.

I-

The image of my parents flashed through my head. The image of them giving everything to keep me safe, even if, realistically, it hadn't meant anything in the end.

Do I know that for sure? What if their fighting bought enough time for help? And now Nate is going to do the same thing. I can keep him from having to make the same sacrifice.

I exhaled through my nose, hard. Arguing with myself isn't going to get me anywhere. Might as well see where this goes. Probably a bit more palatable than forcing the information out of him.

I climbed to my feet and turned to the ex-soldier. He looked up at me with a mixture of expectation and curiosity.

"We should talk."

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the same section of the stadium we had two days prior, after rescuing Valentine.

"So what is this all about?"

My gaze lingered on the ex-soldier. I'd made the decision to talk with him, but now I was here, telling him seemed like the last thing I wanted to do. It wasn't the same as Perkins, she was- well- she had been sympathetic, without knowing anything about me. She'd managed to pick up on whatever ques I'd given, and got at least roughly in the right place. Nate… we've had enough disagreements, the thought of telling him left a bad taste in my mouth.

If I don't, things are never going to improve.

But I've barely known this guy a week. And to this point, he hasn't been cooperative.

Have I been?

No. Why would I be? I'm the one who has kept him alive thus far. Without my help, he would have died before making it out of Sanctuary.

And without his help I never would have made contact with Valentine.

"Well", the ex-soldier asked, glaring impatiently into my visor.

We barely know each other, and he expects me to be the one to start.

Yet I've talked with him more than anyone outside of my handlers. Also… I'm the one who said we need to talk.

… So where would I even begin?

The beginning.

… Alright.

"I'm willing to continue working with you, but we need to come to an understanding."

Shock crept onto the smaller man's face, but it was soon joined by skepticism. "What do you mean 'an understanding'?"

"If I'm going to keep both of us safe, you need to let me do that. Fighting is what I know."

"I already got that. You forget that I spent most of my adult life in the army."

"This isn't open warfare."

"And?"

"I've spent my entire life doing this."

"You keep saying that", the ex-soldier replied, irritated, "but that doesn't mean anything when all I see is you massacring people."

Is that supposed to be an insult? That's what I was made to do.

"It's why you're still alive."

"Yeah? You think I need to kill everything in my way to survive?"

This was going about as well as expected. "Not everything."

"Sure seems like it", he muttered. "So what are you asking me to do?"

"Follow orders; I've been surviving like this for a long time."

He squinted at me. "What do you mean?" The smaller man paused, eyes drilling into my visor. "You've deployed in situations like this?" His voice was incredulous.

"Similar."

There was no immediate response. The ex-soldier's face slackened and his expression drifted back to neutral. He was thinking about something, but what? The statement wasn't complicated.

"When you say 'a long time'", Nate said, eventually, "what do you mean?"

That's what he was thinking about? "Why?"

"Well- I mean you're good at what you do, but it's the only thing you're good at. Your interpersonal skills suck, you have no tact, and your use of force judgement is binary: kill or don't. It's like you've never done anything else."

I cocked an eyebrow behind my faceplate. Just 'good'? And it isn't 'like' I've never done anything else, I haven't done anything else.

Besides that, I couldn't help but notice this guy was trying to play shrink now. I guess I couldn't fault him, he seemed to pick up on the same ques and put the same pieces together as everyone else. It isn't as if I hide it.

"I'm not being hyperbolic when I say I've been doing this my entire life."

The ex-soldier squinted again. "I don't follow. Are you saying you grew up killing people? What are you, a child soldier?"

You could say that.

But what do I tell him? Do I tell him anything? He still doesn't know anything about my past: nothing about the attack, the SPARTAN program, my deployments (for the most part). I could end the conversation, or at least steer it down a different path. But that wasn't why I was here, was it? That strange drive at the back of my mind, the one telling me to just say it, was still there. Get the baggage off my chest that I've held onto for so long, even through all the pestering and prodding from Fourier's squad.

I told Valentine, at least a bit. Maybe it's time to dive all the way in.

Tell that to some stranger, in a different reality, on a destroyed version of Earth?

Why not?

Hmm. I took a slow, deep breath, uncertainty teasing into the still swirling mix of thoughts and emotions.

"I was."

He started. "You were? You were a child soldier? How old are you now?"

Another deep breath. Why was it so hard now? I didn't have a problem telling Valentine my age.

"20."

This time, Nate didn't respond immediately. The smaller man sat stone still, staring up at me, mouth agape, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"You're- you're only 20?"

I nodded.

"How- that doesn't make any sense. When did you- how old were you when you started fighting?"

"12", I replied. "But I started training at five."

Nate resumed his stare. "Fi- you started training-" The ex-soldier's shocked voice died mid-sentence. "Wait… back in Sanctuary, you said you joined because your parents died. And that they died when you were young. The Covenant attacked, right?"

The assumption I was going to open up about everything that has happened piqued my frustration again.

I am, aren't I? Why did I come here, or tell him what I have if I wasn't?

Because he thinks I owe him an explanation.

… Stop being childish.

Yet another deep breath.

"Yes. They attacked my home planet and killed- almost everyone I knew. Slaughtered them in front of me."

The shocked expression stayed in place on the smaller man's face for a few more moments. Ever so slowly, his gaping mouth began to drift shut and the ex-soldiers eyes returned to their normal size. The surprise was mostly gone, but in its place was a heavy dose of fury.

"So", he finally asked, voice barely audible, "what happened?"

He's asking for more detail? Does he think I want to relive those memories again?

At least he's showing some sympathy.

It's still irritating.

And I'm still being childish.

"They overran my planet's local militia. Attacked my home and tore everyone apart." I paused. How far did I want to go with this? The attack, that was one thing, but telling him about the SPARTAN program? My training? My operations? All of that, it somehow felt more personal than my childhood. I couldn't tell him about that. "Afterward, I was recruited by my government's version of covert intelligence and trained to become this." I motioned to myself.

"Wait." The smaller man's eyes grew wide once again, not with shock this time, but the anger that had been bubbling below the surface making itself known. "You were five when this happened and they conscripted you? Your own government forced you into this program after something like that? You've spent your entire life training and fighting? Did they ever give you counseling? Did they try to help you with what happened?"

"No, we weren't meant to reintegrate with society." I shrugged. "No reason to. And I volunteered, I wasn't conscripted."

"Like hell you weren't conscripted. A little kid who just watched his world torn apart can't make that decision." His voice climbed as he talked, well past angry by this point. But the idea I didn't make this decision, that I didn't know what I was doing when I agreed to join the SPARTAN program… that set my blood boiling. This was all I had, all I have. Him dismissing that as someone else's choice, or my mistake- no. This was my choice.

"You-"

"Don't assume I didn't know what I signed up for", I barked. Nate recoiled, but the fury didn't fade. "I did this to get back at those bastards."

Instead of responding, Nate stared at me, clearly trying to rein his emotions back in. Why was he this upset about something that happened to me? Something that I decided to do? This wasn't his problem, hell it hadn't been his war, or even his world. Who was he to say what was my decision and what wasn't? Who was he to toss his pity on me?

"So", he finally said, voice not as heated, but still clipped, "you've been trained to kill since you were five. That explains why you… are the way you are, and I'm guessing they did something to you during that time to make you", he motioned at me, "that. I just can't understand why they wouldn't help you cope with what happened."

At least the answer to that question is easy. "We're weapons. Most trainees in my class were considered disposable."

The ex-soldier grimaced. "What, you weren't worth the time?"

"No."

"That's disgusting."

"That's war."

"How can you accept that? Especially considering what happened to you?"

It's because of what happened to me. I got a front row seat to what the Covenant were doing to us. After that…? War was my entire world.

"Everything I knew was gone; I didn't have anything besides this."

He shook his head. "They had to know how much that can damage someone."

"I wasn't supposed to survive this long."

Some of his shock returned. "How so?"

How was I supposed to explain SPARTAN III's were essentially meant to be run to the ground and tossed out? That, outside of a few exceptions, the prior two classes were deployed only a few times, ending with suicide missions? How do I explain the severity of a war spanning three decades, hundreds of worlds, and billions of lives to someone who couldn't hope to grasp that concept. No one from this Earth had ever set foot on another planet.

What did that look like to me? What did this mean to me?

"I never intended to come back; I just needed to hurt the Covenant." I shrugged again. "Didn't matter what happened next."

"You never intended to come back? You were okay with- what, laying down and dying after killing a few of them?" The incredulity had rejoined the anger in his voice. And that annoyed me even more.

Of course not. Of course I wanted to continue surviving as long as possible. I wanted to keep fighting until there was nothing left, keep killing them until I'd taken at least some small portion of my fury and pain out on those bastards.

But when you're fighting a war like that…

"As far as I was concerned, I died alongside my family. We were all living on borrowed time, might as well do something with it."

The ex-soldier's mouth formed a small 'o' before he closed it. "Didn't you win?"

Did we win? Yeah, technically we won, but that doesn't do what it took justice. And it doesn't capture how truly fucked humanity had been if it weren't for a few lucky (or unlucky, depends on how you look at it) incidents.

It doesn't do what we lost justice. We'd survived, and that's about it. I guess you could say the same for me.

"23 billion people died, and we only won because the Covenant were attacked by… someone else."

The ex-soldier paled. "23 billion? How-" Whatever else he had to say died in his throat as he stopped, gaping at me.

"It was about 60% of the population."

It was several moments of relative silence before the smaller man finally regained his composure. "I see." The words were hollow, like he only said them to restart his stalled brain. "So, you were fighting a losing war, and because of what happened you didn't consider yourself a survivor, you were just sticking around to get payback for the people who died."

I'm still figuring that out; until yesterday, all of this was locked away in the back of my head.

"Close enough."

Nate took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he was having trouble listening to what I was saying.

It makes sense.

Why?

My life hasn't exactly been normal. The attack, the SPARTAN program, the War. He can't picture what any of that was like, but it's safe to say whatever he is imagining has him rattled.

That's how things are, too late to worry about it now.

But what if they could have been different?

What if they could have? I'd still hate the Covenant, I'd still be walking around pissed off all the time. At least I have a way to deal with that.

What if that could have been different too?

What if it could have…? How?

Maybe I get help, counseling, something when I'm still a kid. Someone helps me deal with it. Instead, ONI spent the better part of a decade training me to kill. Doesn't do much for emotional health or stability.

I don't need either of those things to fight.

But I would if I didn't join ONI.

Do I have any guarantee I would have been satisfied with that life?

Like I'm satisfied with this one?

Before my internal argument could go any further, the ex-soldier took another deep breath and opened his eyes. There was something new in them. The anger, fear, and borderline hatred he'd looked at me with since I wiped out half of Skinny Malone's men were gone. Mostly. Now… his gaze lingered on my visor with something akin to sadness.

Was it pity?

I didn't want it.

Not pity… It's close, but it isn't that…

"I think I get what you're trying to say." I cocked my head. "You're saying you know what you're doing because it's the only thing you've ever known." He paused, clearly struggling with what to say next. "And you did that because you thought it was the only thing you could do."

That was a decent takeaway. It's leaving a lot of baggage behind, but maybe he just didn't want to think about the implications.

"More or less."

The smaller man offered a sad smile. "Then I'll play along. I don't agree with you, with what happened to you, but turning you down won't help anything. Besides… maybe some good can come of it."

Is he saying he wants to help me?

Help me with what?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't think you do what you do just because you like killing people. That isn't what I thought five minutes ago."

I paused, looking the ex-soldier over. He thought I do what I do because I enjoy killing people? I enjoy fighting, it's what I do best, and that almost always results in at least someone dying. But does that mean I enjoy killing people?

No… I wouldn't say I do what I do because I enjoy it.

I'm a SPARTAN. I fight.

"Are you going to interfere?"

"Like I did with the Triggermen?" I nodded. "No, but this is a two way street; if I'm going to give you the info I have about getting to the Institute, you need to agree to let me have a say in what happens."

Let him have a say? He wants a partnership. One of the benefits of working alone was the ability to make snap decisions; I didn't have to worry about what someone else thought of the course of action.

Well, he has information I need, and if I can't make this work, it doesn't reflect well on my ability to adapt.

I don't need him for his information.

No I don't, but he does need me.

And?

Maybe, this one time, I can fight for something else.

Why?

Because it's the right thing to do.

The right thing to do huh?

I remained quiet, letting the thought float around my slowly calming mind. The right thing? It wouldn't be the first time I've done something because it was 'the right thing to do'. But not like this. Sanctuary? That was a matter of convenience as much as altruism. All of the Covenant encampments and Innie bases? I was ordered to, and at least with the Covenant, I couldn't lie to myself, I enjoyed that.

Fight for something else. Something other than being a SPARTAN.

… Fine. But if he puts me in unnecessary danger, I'm cutting him loose.

"As long as it doesn't escalate a situation."

"Killing everything isn't escalating the situation, huh", he mumbled. "Okay, I can live with that." Nate looked me up and down, as if he was re-evaluating his opinion of me.

It makes sense, considering.

"Any other questions?"

The ex-soldier shook his head. "I… probably don't want the answer to most of them." He offered a small, sad smile. "I think we should head back. We've got more present issues to talk about."

I nodded.

As I stood to return to Valentine's office, I felt… oddly satisfied. The memories were still present, like a millstone hanging around my neck, but the weight wasn't quite as daunting. Was it because I told someone else? Was it because Nate didn't seem unsettled? To the contrary, he suddenly seemed much more comfortable around me. Sympathy wasn't something I had much experience with, or use for, but if I could gather anything from the ex-soldier walking quietly beside me, it was the anger he levied toward me before had been replaced with sympathy.

Valentine and Perkins greeted us back inside the too small shack.

"Now you two have settled your differences, we need to figure out the next step."

"Kind of." Nate glanced up at me. "Well… we know this doctor, Virgil, is near Attleboro. You call it the 'Glowing Sea' now?"

I cocked my head. "Virgil?"

"He was a researcher who escaped from the Institute. It seems like the only way to get in or out is teleportation. Kellogg never actually went into the Institute so he didn't know how it worked, but this guy does. Apparently. Kellogg was supposed to track him down."

"Do you know where he is?"

"There was an old wildlife preserve to the northeast of the town; he's hiding out in a cave system there."

Considering the way this conversation was going, there was at least one major hold up.

Glowing sea… probably radiation. That wouldn't be an issue for me, but unless Valentine knew someone who had a spare radiation suit lying around, the detective is probably the only other one who would survive. And I doubt Nate would stay behind again.

"Radiation is gonna be a problem. And that's a long walk."

I looked at the detective. "How long?"

"Uh… I've never been through the Glowing Sea, it's just asking to get offed. But my best guess is 40 miles."

Nate nodded. "That's about right. Is I-95 still there?"

"The highway? Yeah… parts of it are. Once you get to the Sea it gets pretty dicey; almost everything was destroyed when the nuke detonated over the area."

The ex-soldier looked at me. "I'm guessing your armor is radiation proof."

"Nothing is radiation proof."

He sighed. "You know what I mean."

"I'll be fine."

"So we just need something for me."

Perkins turned to one of the filing cabinets behind the desk. "I think we might have someone who can supply a radiation suit. It won't be cheap though…"

"We can figure that out."

I had the feeling the radiation wouldn't be the largest problem with this little excursion. "Why would going into the Glowing Sea be a good way to die?"

"Oh, pick a reason." Valentine shrugged. "That much radiation, any number of mutated, murderous things roaming around the area. I've heard the area's infested with Deathclaws. On top of that, there are plenty of irradiated pools that are so contaminated they'll seep straight through the best suit, plenty of ghouls, Supermutants, and who knows what else. Probably the best representation of 'hell on earth' we're ever gonna get."

What the hell is a Deathclaw? And why did he mention it specifically?

Nate looked perturbed too. "Deathclaw?" Guess he had the same question I did.

"Giant lizard looking bastards. I've only seen a few, from a distance; they're usually around 8-10 feet tall, each strong and tough enough to take down a band of raiders."

Oh? Something that can take a group of armed… drug addicts? Even if they weren't the most tactically sound (that's an understatement), that was impressive for a wild animal.

I felt the ex-soldier's eyes turn on me for a moment. "Do you think these 'Deathclaws' would be able to take him?"

Valentine chuckled. "From what I've seen, one or two probably wouldn't. More than that… I guess it depends on how creative you two can get."

Creativity is my thing. "Capabilities?

"I couldn't give you specifics, never had the misfortune of fighting one, thank god. I've heard stories of them being bulletproof, strong enough to rip a man in half, teeth and claws sharp enough to dig through anything but power armor. I'm sure there's some embellishments, but there's always a grain of truth to every lie.

Nothing is bulletproof either. Might be my first chance to use the sniper.

I wonder if it's sighted properly… That was a good question; this thing had been in the hands of Raiders. It was clearly well maintained, but those assholes couldn't land a shot to save their lives (literally).

They killed several people in Preston's group.

With the number of rounds they wasted, they were bound to hit something on accident, and that isn't relevant to the question.

"Oh boy… this keeps getting better and better."

"There's a reason this guy decided to hide in that hellscape."

From the sounds of it, the doctor's choice of location makes sense as long as he intends to stay put. It also makes sense why the Institute would want to send Kellogg after him instead of one of their Coursers.

"If this area is as dangerous as you say, we'll need to camp outside the radiation zone for a night."

Nate nodded his agreement. "I doubt we would be able to make it there in a day anyways. And I'd rather not sleep in a place that actively tries to kill me." He frowned. "The problem is the affected area starts about 10 miles north of where the doctor is hiding."

Shit. 16 kilometers… we aren't making that both ways in one day. Not if I have to bring Nate. I won't be able to on my own if I have to fight my way to this hideout either.

The most dangerous areas often make the best defenses.

"That isn't happening in one day either."

The others didn't respond. Knowing what I do now, the Institute throwing Kellogg at this problem makes sense. We don't have any other paths forward; I needed to figure out some way to make this work.

"We're forgetting something here." Nate and I both looked at the detective who was studying me, frowning. "If you're on the Brotherhood's radar, they're coming after you sooner rather than later."

… Well shit.

A/N: And thus we conclude this episode of 'what happens when there is no fighting'. Now I'd understand this seems a little early in the story for all of this to come out, but for anyone who has seen or been through traumatic experiences, you understand this first step of realization is the beginning of a very long journey. And our SPARTAN friend isn't going to have the easiest time of it either. I am going to leave a tentative date for the next chapter, but I'm moving to a new state for work and my life is going to be a bit hectic for the next few months. I will attempt to keep my schedule (I usually have a few chapters written ahead of time) but I can't promise anything.

Next Chapter: May 8th, Welcome to the Neighborhood