A/N: Greetings all and, I bid you good tidings from my cubbyhole of insanity in this strange world of x-overs! First I'd like to say thank you. We crossed 200 favorites yesterday and it's still incredible to me more than a few people enjoy my writing enough to continue reading it. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support, and we've still got a long way to go. As for this chapter, I wanted to wait for this moment because it's so important to the development and progression of the story and characters, but I feel it is time to dive in. Anyways, leave a review if you're so inclined, and as always, enjoy!
Chapter 30: Loss and Regret
"So what are you going to do to get him back?" Perkins asked.
We don't even know where he is. I shrugged. "Not sure yet."
Valentine, Sturges, and Perkins sat quietly while I stood in the center of the house the detective now used as an office. The three of them were thinking, probably trying to come up with a plan of their own on how to deal with the Brotherhood. While I welcomed the help, none of them are tacticians, and certainly aren't experienced with the type of fight this was going to turn into.
"There's one thing I don't understand about this story. You said they sent three armored soldiers after you, while they had just as many escorting these three kids, along with a half dozen others. That doesn't sound like an ambush to me." The detective shook his head. "Or at least not one that's the primary goal of the operation."
They had us in a confined space with three miniguns. That sounds like an ambush to me. But something hasn't sat right about that with me either. The Brotherhood doesn't do things in half measure. If you aren't sure of your enemy's capability, overkill is never a bad idea. That's combat 101. That left two explanations: either they thought that was overkill or-
"Their primary objective was to extract the kids."
Valentine nodded. "That's what the evidence has me thinking. But why? If they know you're a threat, and they know you're going to stab them in the back, why wouldn't they get rid of you?"
Leverage. Maxson had been using the kids as leverage, and if they didn't want me dead, they wanted me to do something for them.
"Hmm", the Synth hummed, "you don't think they wanted you to infiltrate the Institute for them, did you? I mean, of course they did, but even after the whole 'you shot a bunch of our guys' thing."
I know I wouldn't want to risk using someone I'd just- oh…
Ellie tapped the desk in front of her. "We don't have any prior experience with the Brotherhood of Steel, but there is plenty of historical precedent for this, and not just for fighting. Abusive relationships also share these sorts of key marks." She looked at him. "Could they still be trying to use you?"
"Yes." I've been concerned with them following me, ambushing me again, or finding Sanctuary and using it as a hostage, but those might not have been their primary goals.
"What if…" Valentine started slowly, "they were watching you from a distance, waiting until you found a way into the Institute so they could copy your methods?"
That's something I hadn't considered. Now we were talking about it, the possibility seemed so… obvious. How had I missed that? Maxson is smart, and experienced, and any good commander will have a backup plan if their primary strategy fails, especially given the variables he was dealing with.
Sturges shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Do you think they coulda followed you to the Railroad?"
I shook my head. "No. We were careful." That was one thing I did right.
"Are you positive?" the detective asked.
"Yes. The Railroad has very thorough countermeasures."
"Okay. I'll take your word for it." Valentine didn't sound completely convinced, but he didn't push. "What about that Dr. Virgil you tracked down in the Glowing Sea?"
It was certainly possible, not like we had been subtle. All they had to do was follow the dead wildlife. But Virgil hadn't known how the Molecular Relay worked aside from needing a Courser chip.
"That would only get them halfway. They would still need to build something to intercept the Institute's teleportation network."
Sturges grunted. "Halfway is better than nothing."
"I think we may be getting off track", Perkins interjected. "We could theorize about how the Brotherhood could make it into the Institute until the sun burns out, but it doesn't matter. What matters is they could still be using Damon, somehow, and it's probably to get to the Institute. That means the ambush wasn't to kill you, it was to delay you long enough to get those kids away from you."
That made sense, especially given how conniving Maxson was. I got the feeling the 'Elder' would use any means necessary to accomplish his goals. I wouldn't go as far as capturing kids, but I could respect the sentiment. To a degree.
"They're probably still trying to use me. That doesn't change anything at the moment."
"Won't you have to deal with them at some point?" Valentine said through a frown.
"If I want the Institute's help, but I'll deal with that when the time comes." There are a lot of things I have to do, and figure out, before that happens.
"Is there anything we can do to help recover Julian?" Ellie asked.
I shook my head. "Don't do anything that would connect you to me. The Brotherhood will clearly use any advantage they can get."
"That's fair but…" The secretary stared into my faceplate. "The way to describe them, how you think they're treating him…" Something flashed through her eyes, and the memories of what she had told me about orphans in Goodneighbor came to mind. "It would kill me to think about someone doing that to him, turning him into a child soldier."
I wasn't sure her statement was aimed at me, but the way she was watching me- it was possible.
"That's not going to happen."
"It's nice to say that", Valentine said, "but how are you gonna do it?"
"Still working on it."
"Right… I've seen you in action, and it was damned impressive but…" the detective's eyes narrowed. "I don't see how you're gonna take on the Brotherhood."
"We'll see. Never done anything like this with limited resources." I shrugged. "There are always options."
"And you're sure you don't want help?"
These people are resourceful, and probably effective enough fighters at this point. But they aren't soldiers, they aren't special operations, and they aren't SPARTANs. They don't have training or experience in destabilizing large operations, or outright warfare. They're innocent people, and I'm not going to put them at risk for my own mistakes.
"Yes. They captured Julian and that's my fault."
"Damon", Perkins started slowly, "this is our fight too. We may not be soldiers, but we have just as much at stake here as anyone else."
"I don't want-"
"To get us involved?" The secretary's eyes and voice turned hard. "We don't need anyone to protect us from the dangers this world has to offer. We've lived it a lot longer than you. Our best chance is to help you, and your best chance is to take all the help you can get."
I blinked. That was a stark contrast to Ellie's normal disposition.
Valentine chuckled. My surprise must have come across in my body language. "Now you know what I feel like. She's right. Do whatever you need to, but we're here to help." He looked toward the front of the house, where slowly oranging light was pouring in. "The Brotherhood are going to make sure you have as few places to go as possible. Sure, it will be through propaganda and lies, but that's what people listen to. Fear. Don't waste the friends you do have."
As much as I wanted to say he was wrong, that I could handle the Brotherhood without putting anyone else at risk, I couldn't. Even on the countless solo operations I ran, I had support, an intel team intercepting comms, mapping terrain, tracking enemy movements, supplies, and numbers, advising on targets. I was the one pulling the trigger, but each operation was countless man hours to put together before I ever hit dirt. And I'm not dumb enough to think I can do this with everyone else in the Commonwealth coming after my head.
But two months ago these people were only concerned with surviving, with making it to the next day. Now a war is looming and they want to be in the middle of it? It was like with Nate pushing me to bring him along. It just felt… wrong.
"If I need something, I'll let you know."
"Oh you will", the Synth said with a small smile. "Just know we're here for it when it comes to that."
Sturges stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright everyone, we've pestered him enough, I think. Ty is probably ready with your rifle anyway."
The engineer began toward the door, but Valentine and Perkins held my gaze a second longer. The detective was impossible to read, but Ellie was frustrated. Concerned and frustrated. I could understand that, but I've already made mistakes that cost people, I don't need to do the same thing with them.
As I turned to follow Sturges into the evening light, something occurred to me: Ellie never mentioned Goodneighbor. If Valentine had known about it, she had too, but the secretary didn't say anything. I expected her to be, I don't know, at least disappointed. Disappointed I'd attacked the town, killed innocent people, got more killed in the crossfire and explosion. Perkins had been more concerned with whether I would accept their help than anything. Even though he asked about it, the detective had been the same way.
Why? Shouldn't they be upset?
"I wouldn't worry too much", Sturges said as I exited the house. "They know more about what's going on in the Commonwealth than most. They don't wanna see their home ruined, like everyone else."
"Getting involved is only going to get people killed."
The engineer turned and looked up at me. Maybe he was trying to mediate, but his face was just as determined and hard set as theirs had been. "Damon, if what we're hearing is right, that's gonna happen anyway. You may not like it, we sure as hell didn't, but the Commonwealth's a mean spirited son of a bitch." He shrugged and turned back toward the settlement's main street. "Food for thought." Without another word, he began walking.
I reminded myself these people, at least the original group, have been through a lot on their own. I don't know what those who have joined since then have experienced, but if their stories are anything like the ones I've encountered, like Charlie, or the Finchs, they aren't pretty.
Isn't that why I should do everything I can to keep them out of this fight?
If they want to. And they're right, regardless of how this shakes out, the fighting will change things here.
I started after Sturges.
They don't know what they're getting into.
Neither do I. They've lived in this wasteland, I've been here for two months.
My gaze was drawn to the sickly, gaunt teenager tending to his planters.
They know how bad the Commonwealth can be. They know it a lot better than I do.
I drifted to a stop beside the small wooden boxes.
A kid who lost his parents, condemned to die from severe radiation sickness. My mind flashed Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian's faces. Three more who had lost their parents to Supermutants. One of them, twice. Alexandra losing her husband, Nate essentially losing his entire family.
I'm not unique here. All of these people have suffered hardships and losses. The difference between them and I is they moved on, while I tried to, somehow, make up for something I never did wrong. I don't know if that's strength on their part, weakness on mine, or just different circumstances. Here I am though, trying to make this decision for them-
"Hey!"
A strained, slightly wheezy shout drew me out of my thoughts. I was still standing beside the planters, staring at Charlie.
"What do you want?"
His gaunt, sunken eyes were glaring at me with an intensity that didn't seem possible for someone so sick.
"What?" I asked.
The dying kid huffed. "You're standing there, staring at me with that creepy ass helmet. What do you want?"
The collective gaze of everyone in the immediate area fell on me.
"Hey Charlie", Sturges said, stopping beside me, "we're good here." He motioned back toward the small, one story blue house that, 200 years ago, had been Nate's. "Let's get going."
I wanted to tell him I hadn't wanted anything, and that was the point. I don't want anything from these people. They're here, trying to survive. Hopefully I can make that easier, but that's-
Not my job. It's what I want to do.
Even more reason to do it.
After retrieving my new rifle, I noticed a gathering of people at their common house. They were crowded around something and-
The dog.
The dog- German Shepherd- Nate found at the gas station on our first trip to Diamond city was lying at the edge of the car port.
He looked up at me as I left the makeshift armory. He didn't seem interested in whatever was going on behind him, instead standing and trotting over to Sturges and I.
"Hey Dogmeat, how's it going bud!" the engineer exclaimed as the large, brown and black dog pushed his face into the man's hands, tail wagging wildly.
"Did you keep Dennis out of trouble?"
Dogmeat, apparently, let out a low whine as the engineer scratched behind his ears. Not that I have any experience in the matter, but that sounded like a pretty ridiculous name.
The German Shepherd watched me as Sturges pet him, sniffing at the air.
"This guy's been incredible; he has a nose for danger," the engineer said. "He'll usually tag along with our runners, kept more than a few of them from getting in trouble. I forgot to ask last time, where did you guys find him?"
"Gas station a few klicks south."
Eventually the dog grew bored of the other man and began sniffing around my boots and legs.
"You think he remembers you?"
I shrugged. "Don't know." The sun was just over the hills to our west, about ready to duck behind the trees above us. It's orange glow was slowly turning red, and the sky a gentle pink. It wasn't a bad sunset. "I need to get moving."
"You don't need my permission."
"Right."
There was a long, unpleasant night ahead of me. As I thought about carrying Nora's body back, it struck me I didn't sleep last night, and the night before I'd only gotten a couple hours of shut eye. I'd be ready to drop by the time I got back to the Institute.
X
Bang!
Whatever mechanism lowered the platform into the Vault sounded like it didn't have much life left. The massive, cog shaped elevator started downward with a hard jolt.
Then the alarm started bleating, filling the night air with an obnoxiously loud, warble. Preston had told the people down in Sanctuary this was going to happen, but it could draw unwanted attention. At this point all I could do was hope there were no Brotherhood personnel in the area.
Or any of the other people who want me, or the people in Sanctuary, dead.
In case something did happen, they were at arms. Hopefully it would be unnecessary.
Once the platform jolted to a stop, I found myself at the base of a short staircase. It led up to a walkway running through a massive door that looked like another cog.
As I carefully climbed onto the gantry, the rusty, worn metal groaned worryingly, but it held. Several skeletal remains had fallen over the sides, and a half dozen more were on the platform at the end of the elevated walkway. Nate had a handgun when he came out, but he hadn't killed these people; they were far too old. The bones were completely devoid of any soft tissue and, when I kicked at one, it crumbled into dust.
I've never studied forensics, but I remember reading about skeletal decay… at some point. These bodies had to be more than 100 years old.
Scanning the area ahead, I checked the platform for any unwanted surprises before heading toward the hall at the far end of the platform. With how dark it was in here, it must have been a nightmare for Nate to navigate. That was without accounting for him just waking up from cryo after 200 years, and watching his wife get killed in front of him.
More bodies were scattered in the hall beyond, some of them not human. There were a dozen or so of the large, mutated bugs I've seen above ground, half rotted, among the human remains. Those were probably ones Nate dealt with on his way out.
The construction of the Vault was odd, with exposed wiring and pipes running along the passage's ceiling, and irregular transitions between circular supports and intersections. It seemed like whoever built it was in a hurry and used anything they had on hand. Several doors lined the sides of the hall, but Nate had told me where Nora's body was: end of the hall, large room with eight cryotubes lining either side. Her's was the last on the left.
I've never been uncomfortable underground, and plenty of the Innie positions I've hit have been in bunkers, but something was different here. Stalking through the halls of this old relic to a distant past- Nate's past, that was meant to house people during the end of the world felt wrong. It wasn't the Covenant that ended this world, it was humans. Sure, we had fought plenty of wars, especially during the early years of space exploration but… Nothing like this.
As I approached the large, open door at the end of the corridor, I came across another pair of skeletons, both holding handguns. One had several gunshot wounds to the head, but it was impossible to tell if the other was hit in the exchange or not.
Even though whatever happened here happened a century ago, I could almost feel their fear and desperation. Terror that would have led two people to stand face to face and shoot each other at point blank range.
This place was dead, in more ways than one.
After ensuring no surprises were waiting for me in the cryogenic chamber, I slipped in and made my way toward Nora's pod. These ones weren't like the UNSC's, the one's I'm used to. Instead of sleek, streamlined cylindrical pods, these were square and bulky with exposed hoses and wiring. A control panel on the right side of each pod had dials that, surprisingly, were still powered, and a large red handle. That was no doubt a manual emergency override.
I stopped in front of Nora's pod-
There she was. Nate's wife, Shaun's mother, her body resting in the oddly proportioned box. If it wasn't for the crusted red hole under her left eye, and the blood splattered across the interior of the pod, she could be in cryosleep.
Despite the need to get this done, and get back to the Institute, I found myself standing there, imagining what the situation must have been like. Nuclear holocaust raining down around them. A bomb detonating over the area just a few dozen klicks south of Sanctuary. Carrying a newborn child to this place with no clue what was about to happen. Then-
When you wake up from cryo, it isn't like regular sleeping; you're placed in suspended animation. For you, the time between going in and coming out is instantaneous. Nate wouldn't have known 150 years had passed, all he knew were there were people there, taking his son and killing his wife. Then he blinked again, they were gone with his son, and another 60 years had passed.
But for him, it was about 10 seconds after he got shoved in this cryotube.
I placed a gauntleted hand on Nora's pod.
What would have been going through her head? She'd been running for her life one moment, the next someone was trying to take her son from her with a revolver in her face.
Nate had said they took Shaun and shot her when she wouldn't let him go… Through everything the only thing she could think about was keeping Shaun safe.
An image flashed through my mind: my mother holding a rifle, firing through an open door at a Unggoy trying to charge us. I was cowering behind her, my sister pulling me away from the alien. Grunts are small, weak, scare easily, and have the intellect of a toddler, but back then- they were terrifying. My mother had been in the local militia, she knew how to handle herself, but at that moment, I could see the same need to protect us as Nora had to protect Shaun.
My hand pulled back and balled into a fist.
There aren't many humans I feel disdain for once I've killed them. Only one other comes to mind.
Kellogg though.
I wish I could kill Kellogg again.
With my hands.
I need to get moving.
Right. As much as things may have changed, empathetic musings aren't my strong suit. They probably shouldn't end with me wanting to break someone in half.
Pulling a rolled up canvas body bag from my satchel, I laid it out on the steel grated floor and unzipped it. When I stood again, I stared into the pod's small window at the long dead woman for a few more seconds before pulling the red handle.
The cryotube's seal broke with a gentle hiss, and a low warbling siren sounded as the front of the capsule slid forward, then up.
Whatever cryogenic process they used, it must have malfunctioned because her body was covered in frost, head to toe. Nora was on the tall side, with dark brown hair, a slender face, and proud features. She was fit, dressed in the same tight blue jumpsuit Nate had been wearing when I found him. Calling the woman striking would have been an understatement.
Easing her from the pod, I laid the dead woman's body in the canvas bag. I stood over Nora for a moment, looking down at her. The last thing she probably felt was fear. Desperation and fear. Fear for her son more than for her own life.
I know what that looks like.
With the bag closed, I gently lifted it from the metal floor and draped it over my left shoulder. It would be hard to fire a rifle like this, but if everything goes well, that won't be necessary.
Something felt off as I marched back down the dead hall toward the Vault's entrance, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't the dead woman I was carrying, or the dead Vault I was walking through, or the memories, or the feelings of empathy, or the anger. A question was buzzing around the back of my head I couldn't pin down or put words to.
It didn't leave as I commanded the platform to rise back to the surface, or as I snuck my way back down the hill, or as I began the journey south across the dead, desolate wasteland toward the broken city once more.
The question felt as though it should be obvious, like I'm missing something both incredibly simple and important. But I couldn't grasp it.
Something that should concern me.
Something about the Institute
Something about Shaun.
X
My trek passed quickly, and without incident. I ran across the occasional wild animal that tried it's luck, but I don't need two hands to wield a knife. Nora's body didn't weigh enough for me to notice, but it still felt like I was carrying an extra thousand kilograms on my shoulder. It wasn't painful, but it was difficult. At least I could give Shaun and Nate the opportunity to have closure. Well, closure with this, anyways. That's something I never had the chance at.
I made good time, and was nearly back at CIT by the time the sky began brightening over the destroyed city.
This has been, by far, the easiest task I've undertaken since coming here, physically. But… it didn't feel that way. The only things I could compare to it were finding Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian at the West Everett Estates, and watching the Vertibird with Julian on it disappear over the crumbling rooftops of Boston's skyline.
Even though I had little doubt there were Coursers hiding in the ruined buildings around me, I didn't reach for the radio I had tucked in a MOLLE pouch. I paused in the shadow of CIT's main building, a large, white structure with crumbling pillars and archways that probably looked awful when they were new. This… feeling of unease had chased me all the way from Vault 111, and I still couldn't put words to it. It's beyond what I already know about the Institute, something new, different. There was something missing.
Well, I can stand here and draw even more suspicion, or I can look for more information.
Grunting, I reached for the small radio.
"Ready for pickup", I said into the device.
A split second later, a pair of Coursers burst into existence a dozen meters from me in a brilliant flash of light.
That was fast.
It was X6-88 and X2-17.
As they approached, the female Courser reached for Nora's body. "I'll bring her to our-"
"No." I turned away so my body was blocking her from Nora. Slipping the radio back into its pouch, I grabbed the pistol grip of my new high caliber rifle, making sure both Synths saw it.
"I do not wish to fight-"
"Then back off." I'd done this for Nate, not them. I'm going to see it through to the end.
Both Coursers stared at me. Ayo hadn't told me as much, but it was plain as day these things didn't feel fear, or excitement, or any emotion most likely. They were probably thinking of the best way to engage if-
"Understood", X6-88 said. "Please stand close to me."
I blinked. Not everyone is figuring out how to win a fight at all times. I should have figured that out by now.
The two Coursers continued watching me as I forced my muscles to unwind.
Walking over to stand beside the male Synth, we were enveloped in another blinding flash of light. In an instant were standing, once again, in the small room surrounded by machinery.
"Please follow me." X6-88 began forward, walking through the room of technicians and computer equipment.
He, along with X2-17 and a guard contingent of regular Synths led me back through the facility to the ARD. Nate and Shaun were waiting with Dr. Porter and Li in a small room near the rear of the wing. It looked like an infirmary, but it only had one bed that looked more like a table, and very little by way of medical equipment. Several cabinets, a shelf full of unfamiliar implements, and another, smaller cart set off in the far corner.
There was no customary smartass comment from the ex-soldier. He only stared at me, or more specifically the black canvas I had over my left shoulder.
"Please set her on the table", Shaun said, motioning to the- ah it was a surgical table- in front of them.
I gently set the body bag on the table's stainless steel top.
Nate stepped up to my side, staring down at the black canvas covering his wife. His expression was completely and utterly blank. It was a face I'd seen on other soldiers before, one that said he was doing everything he could to keep himself together.
The ex-soldier's eyes betrayed him. They were hard, full of pain, and had an ever so subtle sheen, like he was trying his damnedest not to cry.
Intellectually, I knew noise from the facility around us was present, the gentle waft of the HVAC system circulating air through the room, the quiet rush of liquids flowing through pipes behind the steel walls around us, the murmur of voices from scientists and technicians outside. It didn't seem like that though.
It seemed like the sounds of the world around us faded away, leaving the five of us, standing around a surgical table with a woman who had been dead for 60 years laying on it. A woman who, for Nate, had just died a few months ago. Someone who had been murdered in front of him as his son was taken, right after watching his world blow itself to hell.
Someone he'd never gotten the chance to mourn.
Maybe I can't empathize with it, but I can sympathize with it.
He reached forward, grabbing the bag's zipper. I almost grabbed his arm to stop him. The wound hadn't been pretty-
But then he knew that, didn't he? He'd watched her get shot.
The body bag's zipper felt unreasonably loud in the silence that blanketed us as, inch by inch, Nate revealed his wife. First her brown hair, then the pale skin of her forehead, her eyes, the gunshot wound, bottom of her nose, her mouth. As soon as he got past the bottom of her chin, the ex-soldier stopped, slowly pulling his hand away from the zipper.
The ex-soldier's carefully neutral expression began to crack as he stared at her. His mouth dropped into a frown, his brow furrowed, and the glistening sheen over his eyes brightened.
Shaun was looking on as well. He may have had much more time to come to terms with this, and had much more practice keeping his emotions under wraps, but this was affecting him too. This would be the first time he ever remembered seeing his mother, even her body, in person.
Porter and Li stood by, staring down at the long dead woman. They weren't upset, but both looked sober, even sad.
My attention was drawn back to Nate as he leaned forward and grasped the edges of the table.
"Nora-" he choked out and his mask began to break completely. "Nora I found him." A shuddering sob forced its way out and my friend squeezed his eyes shut as tears began streaming down his face.
"I'm- I'm sorry I couldn't- we couldn't-" he sobbed again, dropping to his knees, still holding onto the table.
"Do this right." The ex-soldier inhaled sharply and fell silent for a moment. The quiet was tenuous, like it knew it didn't belong.
"I- I didn't do any of this right", he forced out, voice thick and strained, on the edge of breaking. "I'm sorry."
And then his composure fell apart.
Nate- my friend- burst into sobs. They were so full of pain, so full of sorrow, I felt his cries stab deep into my chest. He had run from a troubled childhood, just to fight in a war that broke him. It was that same war that tore his chance at a normal, happy life away from him, took his wife from him, and his son. Every ounce of that pain, that helplessness, was flowing from the sobbing man.
He'd lost everything, despite being dealt a shit hand in the first place. The one opportunity he had at happiness had been shredded.
Unlike me, he'd been strong enough to move forward, to give life a chance.
And now he had nothing left.
How the hell was that fair?
How was it fair he had to struggle and fight all his life, then when he got one modicum of reprieve, of happiness, it was all torn away. How was it fair he's stuck in a post-apocalyptic shithole with a son who's now older than he is, and dying, and someone like me for a friend?
Nate's sobs continued as he sat on his heels, head resting against the side of the table, face soaked with tears.
The only way I could think to describe the harsh, painful, desperate sobs was broken.
He'd kept it together this long, displaced from his world, his life, for Shaun. Now he was here, with the ruins of his family around him. Nothing left to keep it together for.
Nate had been completely, utterly broken.
I didn't pay any attention to my mission clock. We could have been there for five minutes or three hours, it wouldn't have mattered. This felt different than the first night we were here. It was a shock, a surprise, but not this, not- not this.
Shaun stood stock still, doing his best to keep the grimace off his face.
Li was staring at the floor, something strange radiating from her. What was it? Had she lost someone too?
"It took- there were a lot of sacrifices made to finish it, but it worked." Those words rang through my head. At the time, I thought her sober tone had been in respect for the people they lost. Now… I wasn't so sure.
For her part, Porter was watching Nate with the same, concerned expression I'd seen from shrinks before. Maybe it was my own assumptions, maybe she genuinely cared the ex-soldier felt like he was crying out the last of his resolve. But I don't trust psychiatrists, and I sure as hell don't trust the Institute.
As I watched, Porter and Shaun exchanged a glance before the Institute leader retreated to the room's far corner and Porter beckoned for me to follow.
What now? I stalked toward the two Institute members. They both watched with carefully guarded expressions as I approached. That's a great way to put me at ease.
Shaun cleared his throat, but it was still a little hoarse when he began speaking. "Damon, would you mind giving us some time alone."
My eyes narrowed. "For what?"
"To mourn", Porter interjected. The words were soft, like she was afraid speaking too harshly might hurt someone. That voice. That goddamn patronizing voice shrinks use. I can't stand it.
"I would."
They shared a confused glance.
"Excuse me?" The white haired man said.
"I'm not leaving unless he asks." I pointed at the still sobbing form.
"This is a private-"
"Private?" I hissed. "Private. How is this private?"
"Damon-" the slim woman started in that same goddamn voice.
"Don't patronize me, Porter." I felt X6-88 edge closer behind me. "Enough shrinks have dug around in my head, you aren't joining them."
She blinked, but didn't stop. "This is a personal matter."
I scoffed. "That's funny." My gaze turned on Shaun. "You could have made contact with us at any time. You could have brought us here at any time. Instead, you made Nate and I fight across that wasteland for two fucking months."
That was it wasn't it? That's why I felt so uneasy before. They could have saved us the time and trouble.
But that begs the question: why hadn't they?
Deal with that later.
"Nate knows me better than he knows anyone else here. I'm staying until he tells me to leave."
Why? Why was I so desperate to stay? There was nothing for me to fight, nothing for me to kill. That's what I'm good at. That's what I do. What use am I here? I can't do anything to help him.
I… I don't know. I don't know. But I'm not leaving him here on his own. Not when I'm the only one who actually understands what he's been through.
The two scientists stared up at me, both clearly unsure of what to say. I hadn't left much room for them to argue, and short of forcing me to leave (good luck with that), they didn't have much recourse.
"Is there a reason you don't trust us?" Porter asked eventually.
"Is that a serious question?"
She frowned. "Yes."
Where do you want me to start? "You haven't given me one to trust you, and plenty not to."
"It is not up to you how we disseminate information", Shaun said, voice still low but angry.
"You're right. Who I trust isn't up to you." I shrugged. "I'm not leaving. Save your breath."
With that, I turned away from the duo and walked back to Nate. His sobs had grown quiet, and the ex-soldier had his hand resting in his lap. He was staring at them, like he'd never seen them before.
"There are so many things I could have- should have done differently", he muttered, voice thick and nasally. "So much time I wasted- so many years I should have been home, with you. I just kept running. I just kept running. What was I running from?" Nate turned his glazed, empty eyes up to me. "What was I running from?"
The man's face turned angry, furious in an instant as he leapt to his feet. His eyes though. His eyes were still empty. "Huh Damon?! What the fuck was I running from?" He swung a closed fist at me again. The same one he had hit me with before. This time I stepped away, and his hand passed through empty air.
"Am I still running?" Nate's voice cracked hard. "Have I just been running all this time?! What were we doing? Why were we running back and forth across the place that used to be my home in the blind hope we'd find Shaun? What the hell got into my head that I thought I could find him?" He was yelling now. "Was I just hoping I'd find him so I didn't have to deal with the fact I watched Nora- my wife- the first person I ever really loved murdered in front of me? While I sat in that goddamn box?"
The ex-soldier swung again, and I stepped back again. "And then you." His voice broke. "You come along and everything is so fucking easy, right? Just kill your way through your problems, right? Killed Kellogg, didn't you?" The smaller man took a step toward me. "Just another body on the pile for you, right? You said it- you agreed with me."
Wh- what? I didn't understand what he was talking about. I know this type of anger though.
"Would that be her too?" Nate shot a finger at his dead wife. "Would she just be another dead body too? Is she just another dead body to you?" He took another step forward. "What did it feel like, carrying just another dead body across that hellhole above us?"
No… No it didn't feel like she was just another dead body. "No, Nate she's your wi-"
"Yeah!" He roared. "She's my goddamn wife. Just like that Gunner you killed, the one you wouldn't let me treat after stabbing her. You heard how the other one talked about her. She had someone waiting for her to get back and you let her die."
Wait- why is he bringing that up now? "She was-"
"She was a threat, yeah, I remember. That changes everything, doesn't it?" He stabbed a finger at me. "Especially when you see everything as a threat. That's the reason I almost lost the chance to get to know my son. My 60 year old son who is going to die soon. Because you see everything as a FUCKING THREAT. You even treated me like one. You remember? The first time we got to Diamond city?"
I held my hands out to my sides. My mind was starting to scramble, trying to figure out what was going on. I've been yelled at plenty, but this- I don't know what to do with this. "Yes Nate, I do, but I was wrong."
The ex-soldier laughed a harsh, loud, mocking laugh. "Holy shit I can't believe my ears! The fucking infallible supersoldier admitted he was wrong!"
What's happening here? "Why are you doing this?"
"Why am I doing this? I don't know Damon. Why the hell do I do anything now? It doesn't fucking matter does it?" He waved his arms around wildly. "None of this matters anymore. I've lost- if life's a game I've lost. Every. Step. Of. The. Way." He laughed again, bordering on manic. "So what, you're my friend huh? My only goddamn friend? The only thing I haven't lost. Well- I doubt you'll be dying any time soon. But you're still leaving aren't you? That's the goal, isn't it? So why the hell should I care what happens now?"
I know he's hurt. I know he's grieving. I know he's lashing out. I know on the fight or flight spectrum, he's firmly on the 'fight' side. I know what this feels like because I've spent the last 15 years doing it.
But that still hit me. It hit me in a way I've never even thought about experiencing.
It hit me because he was right. I do plan on leaving. I am his only friend and I'm leaving him with this. With… nothing.
"Nate I'm-"
"Don't you dare try and patronize me Damon. I've lost- lost…" his voice dropped in volume until I could barely hear it. "Everything." Another sob made it past the anger and despair and the ex-soldier buried his face in his hands.
My mind was reeling. I didn't know what to say, to do, or how to feel. I've never seen him like this. I've never seen anyone like this. There was nothing I could draw on, no sessions with the shrink ONI stuck me with, no conversations with any of the SPARTAN IVs. Nothing.
I'd told Shaun and Porter I know him better than anyone, but now, when he's hurt- there's nothing I can say. No one else in the room made a move. The three Institute scientists, even Porter, looked lost. I'm here because I'm the only person in this assbackwards world he knows, and now he's standing here, screaming at me. Why? What am I supposed to do about it?
"Go."
I stared down at the smaller man, disbelief blooming in my stomach. "What?"
His head snapped up and he glared at me. "There's nothing for you to shoot here."
My jaw clenched so hard, it felt like my teeth were going to shatter. He doesn't want me here? Why? What am I supposed to do?
After a few seconds of failed attempts, I managed to work my jaw loose. "Nate, what-"
"Goddammit Damon", he barked, "What are you gonna do? You can't bring Nora back, you can't cure Shaun. You're only good for killing things, aren't you? That's what you've always said- what your superiors always used you for. Well go kill your way through the Brotherhood, go get Julian back. Try and at least fix that fuck up."
The muscles in my abdomen tightened so hard I almost dry heaved. It wasn't just the memory of watching the Vertibird fly off with the small, helpless child. It was the idea that kid was in the same position as Nate, the same one I'd been in. He'd been taken from the only family he had left, he'd lost everything.
And it was my fault.
Anger began building at the back of my head.
What did that have to do with this? I'd just walked across the Commonwealth again to bring Nora back so he could grieve and now he's going after me? How does-
Shaun walked up beside the younger man, staring at me. He didn't have to say anything, I knew what that look meant.
Fuck this. That room is the last place I wanted to be anyway.
I spun on my heels and marched back out into the hall where my large guard contingent was waiting. Images of tearing them apart, beating them until they were nothing but piles of- whatever the hell they were made of paraded themselves through my mind.
But I didn't. I kept walking, head down, barely paying attention. I don't know if there was anyone in my way, nor did I care. I just needed to leave. Go somewhere else. I don't know where that was in this goddamn facility, but I needed to be as far from Nate, Shaun, Porter, Nora- all of it as I could get.
X
Why?
What had I done?
What did I do wrong?
Isn't that what you have friends for?
"There's nothing here for you to shoot."
"You're only good for killing things, aren't you?"
Is that what I still am?
Is that all I am?
Is that all I'll ever be?
Was he really using me the same way everyone else had?
Am I his friend?
Can I be his friend?
Questions- new questions- different questions, all careening through my head. They weren't the same ones as before, the ones about my past, my childhood, my actions, and my choices. These were harder. I never answered those other ones, how the hell am I supposed to answer these ones.
I just- I understand what he was doing. I understand how pain and grief can make people lash out. But knowing that didn't help anything. It didn't change the fact I wanted to help him, and I don't know how. That I wanted to be there for him, but didn't know why. That I wanted to stay, but it just made things worse.
And then there was how he came after me. If it had been two months ago and someone swung at me like that, they'd be in the ground. Now though- this time I just backed away. There were no thoughts of retaliation, no stopping myself from breaking his arm off. The fact of the matter is I have changed, but if that change only stops me from doing something, and doesn't help me do something else, is it really a good thing?
What good is a weapon that doesn't kill people? What good is a weapon that lets emotion get in the way? At the end of the day, no matter how I want to dress it up, no matter whether or not I want to change, that's what I'm always going to be, isn't it? A weapon? That's what SPARTANs are. The UNSC wants people to believe we're symbols of hope, the righteous hand of their benevolent rule.
What a joke.
We're people, just as dumb and fallible as anyone else. Some training, augmentations, and a suit of armor won't change that.
The UNSC, and ONI, send SPARTANs in when they want something dead. We kill things. Humans, Covenant, Remnants, Forerunner, doesn't matter. We ensure peace by killing anything that might threaten it.
So what am I doing here, after all these years doing that- and being extremely good at it- thinking I can change what I was made to do? After all these years diving into it without a question in my mind whether I should be? Killing so many people for no other reason than I was ordered to.
Who knows how many were Nora to someone.
And I think I have the right to change that now? I think I can change that now? Have I just been fooling myself, thinking I'm any different?
Everyone I've come across, the people I've helped since coming here- how has that been any different? I've helped them by killing others. It's all the same, all I'm good at.
It's what I was made for.
Even Nate, the person who forced those memories I've tried so hard to ignore for so long out, the person who's been with me as I've tried- even he said I'm no different. So maybe that's it. Maybe I'm just one monster here to kill others.
A half dozen sets of footsteps on the gleaming, steel floor caught my attention. I was sitting against a wall… somewhere in the facility. It was a hall, that's about all I know. I don't remember where I went after leaving the ARD wing. Didn't really matter. That place was somewhere I needed to not be.
I looked up to see the Synth guards around me stand off to either side of the painfully white corridor. Porter, and four Coursers, were walking through the other Synths.
"Damon", the young psychiatrist said, clearly doing her best to keep her normal 'shrink' voice to a minimum. "I'd like to talk about what happened."
"Why?" I responded, leaning back against the steel wall.
"Because that was a difficult situation, and I became a psychiatrist to help people when they're having problems like that."
Problems like that? Lady, you need a lot of catching up if you want to understand what's happening here.
"And how would you do that?" I only half intended to add the mocking edge.
Porter didn't seem fazed by the jab. "By talking, Damon, by understanding. It doesn't take someone with a psychology degree to see you're a special case, and right now both of you are going through a difficult moment." The woman's features softened and her voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I don't need to know what you've been through to know two things: you're extremely young, and even more upset. We can work through the details as needed. I'm not your enemy, Damon. I'm here to help."
I looked around at the two dozen armed Synths pointedly. "The guards say you're full of shit."
The shrink smiled apologetically. "I requested to talk with you alone, but Shaun wouldn't allow it."
"He's smart", I said with a short nod.
"He is, but he's also emotional right now. I don't think you would hurt me, I don't think you want to hurt anyone here."
I don't want to hurt anyone here? I barked a laugh and began climbing to my feet. "I was made to hurt people, Porter. How are you going to change that? How do you know a goddamn thing about hurting people? You've spent your entire life locked away in your comfortable, protected bunker, probably never been exposed to anything worse than a bad grade in school."
She stared up into my faceplate, uncowed. "You're right", she nodded, "there are a lot of things I don't know, but the most important part about growing, both as a professional and a person, is understanding when you're up against something you don't know or understand, and being willing to push through it. Sometimes what you need to do that is other people."
Silence fell over our small section of the facility as Porter held my gaze. Her head barely reached mid way up my chest, even out of the armor I probably weighed two and a half times as much as her, and I could break her in half with barely a thought. Yet she stood there, eyes firm and determined, not an ounce of discomfort in her.
"What Nate said was harsh, and wrong", Porter said eventually, "but it rang true enough to upset you, Damon. And it upset you because you don't want it to be true, if you didn't you wouldn't have cared. Not enough to find an isolated part of the Institute and spend the last 45 minutes stewing on it."
I blinked. It had been 45 minutes?
"You care a lot more than you want me to think. Maybe more than you want yourself to think. I'm not a psychiatrist because I had to be, I am because I like helping people." She took a step back. "My door is always open. Doesn't matter what time or what it's about."
With that, the shrink turned and walked back up the hall, and past the large guard contingent.
I stood there, staring after her for- well I don't know how long.
I care more than I want myself to think?
What the hell does she know?
I don't know. But it isn't like I know a whole lot either.
A/N: Ah... the complexity of emotions. It's always going to be hard to figure out how someone is going to respond to situations like this, but I felt it was applicable considering Nate's disposition, and the events leading him to this point in his life. As for Damon, I think the best way to describe what he's feeling is pain and confusion. He doesn't know what he did wrong (if he did anything wrong) or how to fix it. Not only that, but he wants to fix it, which is a new feeling for him. That's all for this chapter though, I'll see everyone next time!
Next Chapter: 3/4, Let it Begin