Chapter 40: Relief and Terror

A myriad of thoughts raced through Nate's mind as he stood there, in the middle of a crumbling hall, in a dilapidated hospital that had, until a few minutes ago, been a pitched battle, and was now a graveyard. He was petrified, staring up into the impassive, golden visor of someone he called a friend, who was more than likely about to kill him.

That moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely. In the gloom of the destroyed hospital, it felt as though the only source of illumination was that visor. Set against the deep blue, almost black helmet around it, the golden light almost seemed to be floating. Damon was gazing back down at him with the detached air of someone studying an insect waiting to be crushed. Or at least that's how Nate imagined it. As usual, it was impossible to tell what the armored titan was thinking, or what he was going to do.

Eventually, a thought rose to the top. Holy shit. Those two words echoed through his mind over and over again.

Holy shit. Damon was alive. Damon was alive and everyone else, including the Coursers, was dead.

And now he was going to kill Jess and Nate.

His mind flashed back to the Glowing Sea when that Deathclaw was bearing down on him, claws extended, fangs bared, ready to tear him to pieces.

This was an order of magnitude worse. The SPARTAN's awful, looming presence, especially after what he'd just seen… he understood what the people he used to attack must have felt like. Helpless didn't even begin to describe it.

Relief and excitement somehow found their way into the deluge of panicked terror swirling through the ex-soldier.

Damon was alive. He didn't get the SPARTAN killed! Even if he was about to die, at the very least that was one mistake he could die knowing didn't cost a friend his life.

So as he continued staring up at the towering man, he remained still. Not only out of fear but because if Damon had decided to kill him, what right did he have to complain? At the very least, it was a relief to know someone far better equipped to handle the ongoing war was still alive.

But that didn't happen. The armored titan continued standing in the dark, crumbling hall, glaring down at Nate. He had a rifle, but it was resting on its sling. Damon's gauntlets were empty.

"Holy-", the ex-soldier heard Jess begin saying from behind him. The word shot into the silence that had smothered everything for what felt like an hour.

As soon as the quiet was broken, the SPARTAN's head snapped to her and he stepped forward, hands raising-

"No!" Nate shouted, placing himself between Damon and his teammate. The only other living person in the building. Unsurprisingly, the man didn't stop. Instead, he grabbed the ex-soldier's chest plate with one hand and, without any discernible exertion, lifted him out of the way.

Conklin began backpedaling, raising her laser rifle, but the SPARTAN grabbed the muzzle and wrenched the weapon from her hands.

He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and all Nate could do was dangle uselessly. The ex-soldier grasped Damon's wrist, trying to push himself away, but it was as hopeless as trying to move a mountain.

Casting the weapon aside, Damon reached forward-

The infantryman did the only thing he could think of: swung himself in the massive soldier's grip, kicking his leg up to collide with the underside of Damon's helmet.

By some miracle, the SPARTAN stopped, head snapping back to the smaller man hanging from his grasp.

"Don't hurt her", Nate found the desperation ladened words tumbling from his mouth.

For her part Jess was frozen, eyes wide with terror, her hands raised as if they could ward the SPARTAN off.

Damon didn't say anything, only continued staring his catch down. Nate couldn't see the man's eyes, but he felt them boring into him. The SPARTAN's attention had always come with an odd sort of gravity, but now it felt as though it would crush him.

Without warning, Damon released him and the ex-soldier dropped unceremoniously to the concrete floor.

Aside from the pain, a thought occurred to Nate: if the armored titan was going to kill them, he would have done it by now. At least that's what the infantryman said to try and calm himself.

Struggling to his feet, Nate tried his best to square up to the SPARTAN, but that was hard when Damon towered head and shoulders over him. Now he didn't know what to say though. Damon- his friend- was alive, but it wasn't like he could pretend Shaun hadn't tried to kill him, or that they used the ex-soldier to do it. He couldn't pretend he hadn't been a complete asshat the week before the ambush. Hell, Nate was still trying to process what had happened.

Eventually the silence, and Damon's oppressive stare, grated on the ex-soldier enough, he had to say something. "Wh- what the hell is going on here?"

The SPARTAN's only response was to continue drilling his gaze into the smaller man, almost as if he thought he could drive his thoughts into Nate by sheer force of will.

As far as the ex-soldier knew, neither of them was telepathic.

"Damon- Damon look, I'm not gonna say something stupid like 'I know you're mad', but it would be really helpful if you said something. What the hell is going on?"

After another short silence, Nate's hopes of at least drawing a response out of the towering man wanning, he finally spoke.

"I was killing people."

Telling whether the SPARTAN was being sarcastic had always been difficult. His low, hoarse voice was always dry, and usually emotionless. Now wasn't an exception. There was no indication of any stress from the fight Damon had just been through. It was another reminder of the… remarkable circumstances that produced him.

Remarkable is one word for it.

Nate cleared his throat. "Believe me, I got that, but that doesn't answer the question. Why did you attack us? Why did you attack the Brotherhood?" How the hell are you here? Where have you been for the past month? But he left those last two unsaid. Better to determine the SPARTAN's mental state, and what he plans to do before taking a trip down memory lane.

"Just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't mean I'm discussing why I'm here."

"… haven't killed you yet…" it was hard to miss that part.

Swallowing hard, the infantryman said, "fair, but you haven't been…" he trailed off. He was about to say "active", but was that really true? The ambushes on the Brotherhood caravans, it was definitely possible for the SPARTAN to do that, especially if he was with the Railroad. It would also explain why the supplies were taken after the attack.

"You haven't attacked the Institute to this point. Were you waiting until I was out here?"

The SPARTAN cocked his head. "What did I just say?" There was something in his tone the ex-soldier hadn't heard before. No, that wasn't right, he had heard it once when they first got to Diamond city. It was the same low, deceptively calm tone that sounded like Nate had a thin sheet of glass protecting him from a hurricane.

But this time that glass had a few cracks in it.

Despite the mounting trepidation with his chances of getting away from the SPARTAN alive, a spike of frustration found its way passed the still present terror. "Well- why are you here then? Why are you talking to me? Why am I alive?" As he said that last one, the ex-soldier winced. Damon was clearly in a… violent mood and he, justifiably, didn't need much excuse to kill Nate.

There was a brief moment of hesitation while the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As he did, Nate heard something move behind him.

Damon's head snapped to the noise and, when the ex-soldier glanced back, he saw Jess creeping away from them. He could understand the crawling need to get away from the barely restrained violence radiating from the towering man, but that was going to get them killed. Somehow, Nate's heart jumped even further up into his throat, his eyes widening with horror.

"Stop!", he barked and his teammate froze in place. He could feel the SPARTAN tense, ready to pounce and tear them apart. Nate wasn't sure what was stopping him, but he didn't want to see how far Damon's restraint went. They were balanced on a knife's edge, and falling off meant being butchered.

After several seconds of strenuous, anxiety-filled silence, Nate's heart trying to beat from his chest, the ex-soldier turned to look at Damon once again.

"I don't know what your game plan is, and you're right, you don't have any reason to tell me, but what are you doing right now?" He did his best to clear his throat, but it came out strangled. Best to get this out of the way now. "Are you going to let us leave?"

Damon uncoiled a fraction as Jess stilled. "I haven't decided."

Even if he already suspected it, Nate's heart skipped a beat. His mind began racing, trying to find something to help. If the SPARTAN was still debating whether or not to finish the massacre and kill them too, did that mean he could push him toward the 'don't kill' decision?

Cass and Tommy. The Railroad and the Synths. "You don't have any reason to believe me", the ex-soldier said, and even he could hear the pleading in his voice, "but if you want the Institute to change, I need to get back there." The armored titan cocked his head again, and Nate knew he at least had his attention. "Li is the one who has been helping Synths escape. Before… before the ambush, she was trying to recruit you to help. After… I realized what I did, I decided to figure out why Shaun wanted you dead, which led me to her. Now I'm working with her and her people." He motioned to his teammate. "Jess is one of them."

"Personalizing her doesn't change anything", the SPARTAN said, motioning to the ARD scientist, his voice still ice cold. "Leaving you two alive-"

"Is a risk", Nate finished for him. "I did spend almost two months straight with you. That hasn't changed."

Damon fell silent again, and the ex-soldier could feel the fire in the man's eyes burning through his head from behind that omnipresent golden visor. This wasn't the same rage as when the SPARTAN almost lost it with Virgil; this was a cold and calculating fury, one Nate had no trouble imagining preceded many dead people.

"And you still tried to kill me."

The words dropped like lead from the otherworldly soldier's mouth, crashing to the floor with such force, Nate felt the shockwave hit him in the chest. He was right, of course, and the infantryman had spent the last month constantly berating himself for it. He'd betrayed the only person he could rely on, but now he was here, towering over him, he was terrified the SPARTAN would kill him. Relieved and terrified.

"You're right", Nate said. "I tried to rationalize it at first as Shaun taking advantage of me, using me to take you out of the picture, but that's a lie. I let myself fall for it."

"You didn't know?" Incredulity finally broke Damon's emotionless streak, but that didn't help. If anything, his voice was even frostier. "That doesn't make you innocent, it just makes you stupid."

The ex-soldier shrugged. "Again, I can't disagree." Saying 'sorry' would have been worse than useless. Damon was pissed, but he wasn't murderous, at least not anymore. That probably would have flipped the switch right back to 'kill' and Nate didn't know if it would come back off next time.

This conversation could go three ways from here. First, Nate could say something stupid and get both Jess and himself killed. Second, he could talk his way out of this and they return to the Institute. Third, he could try to convince Damon to help. The ex-soldier wanted the third, he wanted to have the SPARTAN on his side again, watching his back, helping him fix the Institute and win this war. But that would be a fantastic way to wind up in option one again. Maybe he could hedge his bets? Damon knew Nate well, and trying to lie here would be a mistake.

Then just tell him the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He deserves the consideration here, not me.

"Damon, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes, you can keep me as your hostage until you're satisfied", the ex-soldier motioned at Jess, "but please let her go."

"Reinforcements would do about as well as your last forces."

"Believe me, I know." Nate shook his head. "I just- you deserve the truth, but I won't put someone under my command at risk."

The SPARTAN scoffed- he actually scoffed at that. Maybe they weren't in such dire straights after all.

"You think anything you say can influence whether I kill you or not?"

"I…" Nate trailed off. Was he still trying to control the situation, control Damon? If the SPARTAN was going to kill them, did he have any control over that? The answer should have been obvious from the start. "No- I guess I did but…" A small smirk flashed across the ex-soldier's face as his eyes dropped to the cracked concrete floor. "Maybe I don't know how to learn."

Silence bloomed once again, the three of them standing in the hall, Jess and Nate still at the mercy of the SPARTAN looming in the dark hallway.

"Against my better judgment, I'm not going to kill you", Damon said, his voice thawing ever so slightly.

Cocking an eyebrow, Nate looked back up to meet his gaze. "Better judgment?"

"You're the only ones who know I'm still alive."

The ex-soldier wanted to ask why, but the question wouldn't get him anywhere. They were going to live, that's what matters. For now.

There was one thing he needed to say.

"I… appreciate that- Damon, I won't say 'I'm sorry', you don't need to hear that from me, but things haven't changed. I lost it after finding Shaun, after finding out what was happening. That isn't an excuse though. If you're interested, I still want to help you get back to your universe. The Institute needs to change for that to happen though."

"Help", Damon said slowly. "You want my help."

"Of course I want your help. That doesn't mean you should give it to me, or I have the right to ask for it, but I think you know I'd want it." Nate shrugged.

A huff came from the towering man's helmet. "You have a lot of balls."

Shaking his head, Nate replied, "no, just not many options. Not many people I trust."

"Your trust isn't the issue."

There was no arguing with that.

"And I wouldn't ask for yours, I'm not that stupid. All I want is to do the right thing." That's something they both knew Damon was trying to figure out.

After a short pause, the SPARTAN cocked his head again. "If you're asking for my help, you're asking me to trust you're going to do the right thing. That almost got me killed."

The image of the armored giant's strange, futuristic shields flaring as he was pounded by gauss rifles flashed through his mind. "I- it isn't my plan."

"Li."

Nate nodded.

"She isn't the one asking for my help."

"No, but she would. I don't know anyone who wouldn't", the smaller man said, shrugging.

"Your son."

He winced. "Fair."

"You want my help to change the Institute." Nate nodded. "Do you remember what I told you?"

The infantryman nodded again. "It isn't going to change. So, what, you're just going to blow it up? Destroy everything they've made that, in the right hands, could save people?"

"And whose hands would those be?" the SPARTAN asked, heat creeping into the edge of his voice. "Most people think they're the right one to handle dangerous technology. Look at what happens."

Speaking from experience.

"I don't know yet, but we both know the hands it's currently in are the wrong ones."

Damon paused, and Nate got the distinct impression his eyes were searching the ex-soldier. "You're telling me you want to remove Shaun." The incredulity was back.

Even so, Nate nodded. "Yes. This is a chance to fix things, to make a real difference. I spent 20 years in the military without changing a goddamn thing."

That was something the ex-soldier knew his friend could relate to. The SPARTAN had infinitely more individual impact than Nate, but the way he talked about his past, it was easy to see he didn't look at it that way. He was just another weapon in the holster. Hell, he'd told Nate he wanted to help the people here.

The armored titan looked back and forth between Nate and Jess, and he knew Damon well enough to know something was going through his mind. Something the ex-soldier probably wouldn't like. After a few moments of silence, whatever decision Damon had to make was made.

"Your opsec still sucks, and tracking you is easy. If you were fighting any real army, you'd have lost by now. The Brotherhood has figured out how to intercept your comms, encrypt them. I assume you already know they can trace Relay signals which is why you've begun moving in smaller groups. You'll need to do more." The massive figure fixed Nate in his stare once more. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, but don't mistake my intent; the only reason I am is that I've got other plans in mind."

Damon stepped forward, crowding the ex-soldier. With the immense form of the SPARTAN directly in front of him, Nate felt like a child. "If I find you attacked anyone but the Brotherhood", he said, voice low and cold once more, "I will burn your goddamn world down. Don't test to see who can fight dirtier. And if I see you again, you die first." He looked at Jess. "Either of you."

With that, the giant of a man stepped away and began walking down the hall, casually stepping over the sack of shattered bones that had been X5-15. With both of them disarmed, the SPARTAN didn't even give them the courtesy of looking back. They all knew neither he nor Jess was a threat, and they weren't dumb enough to try something now, after being granted a reprieve.

As the ex-soldier watched his friend disappear into the gloom, a massive wave of relief rushed over him. It was from so many different directions, for so many different reasons, he wasn't sure what to process first.

Damon was alive. That was so relieving, Nate wanted to cry. But it brought along a mountain of dread. Damon was alive, and he was coming after the Institute. That put Nate on a clock; he only had so long to fix things before the SPARTAN did burn everything to the ground.

Then there was the relief they weren't alone in this war. Damon wasn't on their side, per se, but he still seemed to hate the Brotherhood more than the Institute. Why that was, Nate didn't know, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Finally, of course, he was still alive, and that realization turned his legs to jelly. Dropping to the crumbling, cracked concrete floor, the infantryman almost sobbed as the fear and panic he'd held back were washed away. He was alive, Jess was alive. They'd faced down what was probably the closest incarnation to death this world had and walked away. Even if that was only because Damon had decided against killing them, a consideration he said they wouldn't get a second time.

But the Synths, Grant… Damon killed Grant.

Jess was likewise slumped to the floor, propping herself up against the wall beside her.

"What the hell just happened?" she muttered. Her shock mirrored his own.

Nate wanted to say they got lucky, but even with his mind half-melted, he knew that wasn't the case. Damon had half a dozen chances to kill them he knew about, and probably a dozen he didn't.

So why were they alive? There had to be a reason, something more than sentimentality.

And had the SPARTAN agreed to help them?

Whatever happened, the ex-soldier didn't think he had the mental capacity to figure it out right then. Most of him was still reeling from the fact Damon was still alive, and that he hadn't killed Nate.

The two of them sat in silence, surrounded by the SPARTAN's latest victims. Nate knew they should get moving, get out of the jammer's signal range, but he needed a moment to think. The instant he returned, it would be question after question for hours on end. Questions he didn't have the answer to.

There was one thing he knew though: despite everything that just happened, Nate felt a piece of him reveling in the fact his friend was still alive. Damon had survived and, no matter what now, Nate was going to do everything he could to help him. That wasn't just because he owed him, and he did, he really did. It was because the SPARTAN was their best chance at not only winning this, but changing things around here.

"Do you think we should get back?" Jess asked, snapping the ex-soldier from his musings.

Note nodded. "Probably." His voice sounded distant. The Institute hadn't sent any more forces once they lost contact, that was good, it was something he'd emphasized. When you don't know the situation, flooding the zone with more people is a great way to get them killed.

The SPARTAN seemed… unsure, but Nate was starting to think that went the opposite direction: his default was to leave at least the ex-soldier alive. Once they were face to face, Damon began doubting that. It said something about how upset he was that he almost ruined his own plans to kill Nate. The only time he'd ever done something like that was with Dr. Virgil and those were… unique circumstances.

Climbing to his feet, he offered Jess a hand. "Come on. There's going to be a lot of questions when we get back."

His teammate still looked shellshocked. It was something the ex-soldier had seen on countless people including himself when faced with high-stress situations. Not only had she almost been killed, but they'd both been completely at Damon's mercy. There's a difference between being killed in combat, and staring your potential death in the face.

Not that it would be anything either of them had to worry about again. Damon said he'd kill them the next time he saw them; Nate wasn't about to call the man a liar.

The two of them left the body-strewn hospital and walked into the late morning sun. Had it really only been a few hours? That battle, and then the confrontation with Damon- it felt like they'd been in there for days.

As soon as they were out of the building, Nate's earpiece popped, and he keyed his radio.

"Isaiah, do you read me?"

There was a brief pause before the analyst's voice came back over their comms.

"Nate? What the hell happened? We lost everyone's transponder signal." His voice was panicked and relieved at the same time. That relieved part would only last a few more minutes.

"Jess and I need transit back, we'll explain then."

"You and Jess… what about everyone else?"

The ex-soldier glanced at Conklin whose eyes were fixed on the cracked asphalt between her feet. The ARD scientist's face told him everything he needed to know: wide, glazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape, and completely unfocused. She'd need time to recover. Considering what she'd been through the past 12 hours, that made sense.

"We'll explain when we're back."

"O- okay", Isaiah said. "Standby for transit."

An instant later, the familiar brilliant white light flared into existence, and suddenly they were standing in one of the teleporter bays. The flash barely had time to fade before Jess slumped to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Nate wasn't far behind; his legs still felt like they were made of jelly, and every muscle from his arms down to his feet was trembling. It wasn't just adrenaline.

A half dozen techs, three of which were medical personnel, were waiting outside in the control room. Porter was one of them.

"Come on", the ex-soldier said quietly, kneeling by Conklin. "Let's get you checked out."

She met his gaze, eyes still glassy and unfocused. "Why?"

"Because we're still alive, and we still have things to do." He helped her to her feet. "We can't let what happened put a stop to that."

His teammate looked around, finally noticing the technicians crowding the small room. "Right… things to do."

No sooner had they exited the transit bay than the medical personnel began accosting them, trying to take them to the infirmary.

Nate backed away. "Take Conklin, I need to talk with everyone first."

One of the techs, Nelson, looked down at his chest plate, eyebrow cocked. It was then the ex-soldier realized his armor had a spiderweb of cracks radiating from where Damon had hit him. Had he not been wearing armor, that blow would have turned his ribcage into mulch.

He suppressed a shudder.

"I'll come by afterward to get checked out. There are more important things right now." The infantryman looked at Porter. This wasn't just because he needed to report what happened. She would no doubt begin poking at him the moment they were alone. He needed time to get his thoughts together before that happened. Nate was in no state to play her mind games.

"Come with me, we need to get everyone now."

The shrink frowned. "They're already waiting. What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the debrief", the ex-soldier replied as he began marching toward the elevator.

He heard Porter's footsteps following him on the steel floor and, as they entered the lift, she turned to him. "Nate. What happened?"

Meeting her gaze would be a bad idea. "I'll tell you in the debrief."

"Damn the debrief Nate, I haven't seen you like this since the attack on the Railroad." To her credit, the concern in her voice sounded genuine.

The same way it had when she talked with him about how he needed to commit to the Institute.

"A lot happened Helen. I'm exhausted, I just lost five squads of Synths, two fireteams of Coursers, Grant, and I'm pretty sure I have a few broken ribs. I don't have the patience or energy to explain things twice."

"What?"

When the ex-soldier glanced her way, Porter's wide eyes and gaping mouth told him all he needed.

"Yeah. So, I'm waiting until we have everyone together before giving my report."

The elevator doors dinged open, admitting them into the central hub which was bustling with activity. Scientists from every division were crossing the large room, going about whatever tasks they'd been assigned, most likely for the war effort. Many were working to get the fusion reactor online, but Nate hadn't asked when that would be finished. It wasn't really his concern anyway.

Without looking back, he exited the elevator and sifted his way through the throng of people toward the conference room. Most got out of his way as he walked. Not only was he in tattered clothes and damaged armor, but the ex-soldier was sure he smelled absolutely awful. Burnt flesh clings to things.

Awaiting them in the large room were Shaun, Li, Ayo, Jackson, and the other usual members of the leadership team. Each of them was wearing a mixture of apprehension and impatience as he entered.

"Care to explain how we just lost 45 units?" Ayo barked before the ex-soldier had the opportunity to stop.

Once he did, he squared up to Ayo, who was maybe half Damon's size and even less intimidating than that. "Why the hell do you think I'm here, Ayo? You weren't the one who just lived through two firefights in 12 hours. If I have to hear a goddamn thing from you, I'm going to put you in the infirmary with Conklin."

The ex-soldier stifled a wince. He was supposed to be on good terms with him and Shaun. That's what Sam sacrificed herself for, after all. After everything that's happened though… not only did the small man seem unimportant, Nate wasn't sure their plans would come to fruition anyway. They had a 7-foot-tall killing machine in the mix now, and his entire motive was to be the monkey wrench thrown into the works.

Taking a deep breath, Nate turned back to the rest of the room. "We have a problem." He almost grimaced, that was both the cheesiest thing he could have said, and the largest understatement he could have made.

"Three, actually. We were unable to recover the target, the Brotherhood attacked us while we were searching…" He trailed off, eyes meeting Li's for a moment. The older woman was watching him with a sharp gaze that he'd only seen a few times before.

No point in drawing things out.

"And Damon is still alive."

No one in the conference room said anything. The only person who looked concerned though was Madison. The rest, including Shaun and Ayo, almost seemed bemused.

"Do none of you realize how important this is?" he asked, eyes shooting from person to person. "Hell, you killed- tried to kill him because you thought he was too significant a threat to let live, even if he was on our side."

"That's before we began learning how to fight this war", the SRD leader said. "We are much better equipped to handle your friend now."

Nate almost laughed. "You can't be that naive. The better trained a fighting force is, the more effective it is, but it's also more predictable." He shook his head. They were getting ahead of themselves. He needed to explain what happened first before getting into any of that. "The Brotherhood was already in the area when we began our search. On top of the Vertibirds they sent, there were ground forces that attacked us at almost exactly the same time. That strike was coordinated. During the fighting, while we were trying to make our exit, Damon detonated incendiary charges on the third floor, wiping out everyone besides myself, Grant, Jess, the Coursers, and a squad of Synths. After that, he finished killing everyone besides Jess and me."

Silence filled the room again and, while Jackson and Isaiah had the good sense to look worried, everyone else didn't seem convinced.

"He ambushed our forces", Weller said. "It appears we need to improve our training and deployment standards then. If we-"

The ex-soldier shook his head again. "You aren't understanding what I'm saying. First, the Brotherhood had significant forces in the area before they were able to track the reinforcements' transit signal. Second, Damon is alive."

"Father", Shaun said, his voice in its normal, impassive mode. "I understand you were close with him, but if we-"

"Shaun, this isn't about my relationship with him. You should be just as worried about the threat he poses to the Institute as you were when you order him killed." The fear in his voice was genuine, but he had to struggle to keep the excitement out of it as well. Whatever the situation, he was still relieved the SPARTAN was alive. Happy about it, even. It opened so many opportunities, but he had to take this one step at a time.

"Actually, you should be more worried about it. You aren't just someone he dislikes anymore; both the Institute and the Brotherhood are on his shitlist now."

Ayo scoffed. "Your friend is a footsoldier, an extremely effective fighting unit. We have those in droves. If need be we can-"

"Holy shit, you all really don't get it." Nate stood back from the table and looked around the room again. "Damon isn't like anyone else we have to fight. He's been trained to kill since he was five, operated on high-risk, solo missions since he was twelve, and not only is he the fastest, strongest, and toughest person anyone in this room has or will ever meet, he might also be the smartest." At least when it comes to fighting. He's definitely lacking elsewhere. That didn't matter though, not right now. "He used to take out what he called 'insurrectionist cells' better equipped than us, better trained than us, and larger than us. He knows how to fight these battles better than everyone here combined."

"We were able to organize an ambush for him once", Brown said, the frown on her face one more of confusion than worry.

Have I really done that bad a job teaching these people?

"Which is why it won't happen again. Tracking down a force is easy, tracking down one person is damn near impossible. Especially if that person has spent their entire life not being found." He looked back at Shaun. "How are we supposed to find Damon? He's in the wind. He's been the one ambushing Brotherhood caravans and stealing their supplies, so he doesn't have a resource base, he won't be connected to anyone, and he knows we'll be looking for him."

It was Shaun's turn to frown. "What about the places he has been? Sanctuary-"

"No." Nate shook his head. "He didn't beat around the bush. He told me he's taking it easy on us, but if we go after anyone besides the Brotherhood, he'll burn everything down."

Weller grunted. "So, what, we're supposed to sit around and wait for him to kill us? That seems like a very bad idea."

"I agree, but I've seen him fight enough to know fighting him with gloves off and time to prepare is a losing battle."

"We also have to consider the fact that he is most likely doing this to wear down the Brotherhood before coming after us", Brown said. "It allows him to fight a war on one front instead of two. If we destroy the Brotherhood before we eliminate him, it will allow him to focus entirely on us." The woman eyed him. "Which will be a problem if he really is as dangerous as you say."

That was a good point, but, if he was being honest with himself, the ex-soldier didn't know what he was supposed to do. What he wanted to do. Possibility after possibility raced through his sleep-addled, beleaguered mind. At some point, he knew he'd have to outright betray Shaun. Damon would make that prospect much more doable. If he could convince the SPARTAN-

No, he couldn't convince Damon of anything. He'd have to bring Li in on this.

Is that the route he wants to take? Align Damon with her people? It would be the easiest, he already has a vested interest in protecting the Railroad-

Stop. This isn't going to be productive.

Taking a moment to rub his eyes, Nate straightened to his full height. "I don't know. All I wanted to do was inform you of what happened, and the new player we have on the field. Feel free to plan on your own, I need to go to the infirmary and get some shut-eye."

Ayo stepped forward. "I do not believe-"

"Justin, I'm really not in the mood right now. If you have an issue, you can bring it up tomorrow. I need time to rest and think." He turned to leave. "Come up with whatever plan you want to try and kill Damon. I'll tell you why it won't work."

Without looking back, he exited the conference room and headed back for the infirmary. As soon as he did, he heard everyone else erupt into talking. He couldn't make anything out, nor did he care to. Damon was back. Even though he wanted to kill them, he hadn't, and now he has to come up with a way to survive whatever the SPARTAN has planned.

More important than that, his friend was back, and he had a chance to make amends for one of his mistakes at least.

A thought occurred to Nate. Damon clearly had his own plans for the Brotherhood and the Institute, which is probably why the SPARTAN had told him what he did. What was he playing at? Why would he want the Institute to be more competent?

That last one was an easy answer, at least: the better equipped the Institute was to fight the Brotherhood, the easier his job would be. It wasn't like he'd given them any insight into advanced tactics; all he did was tell them they needed to do the basics better.

As Nate passed through the commons his mind raced to find a way to get in contact with Damon. It couldn't be him. For as much as the ex-soldier wanted to have a chance to really talk with him, Nate wasn't stupid enough to risk it. Damon had left him alive this time, but he had little doubt he'd catch a bullet the next. Their best bet was through the Railroad, at the very least he'd be watching them. The problem was he wouldn't tie himself to anything. He has the resources to operate on his own, and every incentive to do so.

A few minutes later, the ex-soldier found himself standing in front of his apartment instead of the infirmary. Had his feet carried him back there without him noticing?

… whatever. He needed to sit down.

Sliding the door open, Nate didn't go to the shower like he normally would have. Instead, the former infantryman plopped down on the overstuffed couch.

They need Damon. The splinter group within the Institute was working on a plan to change the practices and goals of the organization, but without some sort of armed presence, that would be very difficult. Open conflict within the Institute wasn't on the cards, that would end in disaster, but the SPARTAN is a fantastic deterrent. And he scares both Shaun and Ayo.

Or at least he should.

On top of that, if they were able to successfully defeat the Brotherhood, and change the Institute, they could help Damon get back to his universe. Hell, they already owed him that much.

There was a knock at his door.

Nate almost jumped from the sofa as the sharp sound exploded into his thoughts. The sudden motion sent pain radiating from his broken ribs, but he stifled the groan that tried to make its way out.

Who the hell…

Standing, he walked to the door and keyed it open. Jess was standing outside, her gear gone, just wearing her black undershirt and cargo pants. Her right hand was wrapped in a hard cast.

"Hey boss", she said, offering a weak smile.

The ex-soldier blinked. "Hey Conklin… what's up?"

Her eyes roamed over him, clearly noting he hadn't removed his splintered chest piece or carrier. "You need to go to the infirmary. Damon messed you up pretty good."

"Oh…" Nate looked down at himself. It was a wonder his armor hadn't shattered altogether. "I just needed time to think."

His teammate nodded. "Yeah." She stood in the doorway, staring at the ground in silence for what seemed like hours

"Do you… want to come in?" the infantryman asked long after the quiet became awkward.

Once she nodded, Nate stepped away from the door and they both sat at the small table.

"I still don't understand what happened", Jess said as she dropped into the chair opposite him. "If Damon wanted you alive, why did he attack in the first place?"

"Trying to figure that one out myself", he replied. "He wanted a message to get back to the Institute, and he wanted us to know he's alive. Other than that… I don't know. All I can think of is he wanted to make sure the people he cares about stay out of the line of fire."

"The Railroad and Sanctuary?"

Nate nodded. "He plans on coming after us once the Brotherhood is gone but… I don't know. I don't know if he knows what he wants at this point."

"That's a little scary", Conklin said, rubbing her face with her good hand.

"Yeah well… It's my fault he's in the position he is. I need to find some way to fix it."

His teammate's eyes shot up to his. "You sure that's a good idea? No offense Nate but don't you think it would be better to not mess with everything here? It didn't work out great the last time Damon was involved."

The jab sent a pang of guilt shooting through the ex-soldier. "I know… What else am I supposed to do though?"

"We need to come up with a plan. Dr. Li filled me in on what you said, you don't think we can beat him, so we need to figure out some way to keep him from, in his words, burning everything down." She shifted in her chair. "That means you and I need to stay out of the way. I don't want to get caught in an ambush by him again."

Ain't that the truth. Nate had been in the middle of ambushes before but that… that was something else entirely. It felt like he was a deer being hunted.

"We need his help."

"He didn't seem too keen on giving it."

Nate huffed. "I wouldn't expect him to be. It took him a long time to figure out how to trust someone, and-" he grimaced, "well the person he trusted the most betrayed him."

Nodding Jess said, "Who does he trust now?"

Cass, Tommy, Sanctuary.

Sanctuary.

The ex-soldier glanced meaningfully around the room before meeting Conklin's gaze. "I don't know, but we need to figure it out." A small smile cracked her lips.

"First though." Nate stood, groaning. Being reminded of his injuries suddenly made them hurt a lot more. "I need to go to the infirmary. My ribcage isn't doing great."

"Your friend has a funny way of showing mercy."

Grimacing, he limped toward the door. "You've seen what happens to the people he doesn't show mercy to."

X

By the time Nate had left the infirmary, his entire torso was wrapped in a gel soft cast that supposedly worked to speed up the healing process, and was antibiotic. He had no clue how something like that would work, but what he did care about is whatever they used for a local anesthetic meant he wasn't damn near writhing in pain.

Despite the armor, Damon had managed to break two ribs and crack three others. That went along with the half dozen contusions and muscle strains.

"Your friend has a funny way of showing mercy."

Well to be fair, if this was the Damon he'd first met, 'mercy' wouldn't have been on the table so the ex-soldier considered himself lucky.

His mind kept flashing back to the image of Grant, and to how he almost killed Jess too. The SPARTAN really did only want to leave Nate alive. Maybe he wanted to give the Institute something and decided the best way to do it was to leave as few survivors as possible.

As he walked back toward his apartment, exhausted, he didn't do himself any favors by trying to delve into the armored titan's mind. Who knows what went on in there, and he had so many potential reasons for leaving Nate alive, it would take far more brainpower than he had to figure out which one fits.

It was around 1730 when he slumped into his bed, but it felt like it could have been early the next morning. Hell, he'd been through two massive fights in the previous 18 hours, and had three hours of sleep between them. He was absolutely exhausted, mentally and physically.

Falling asleep didn't help though. He was haunted by the memories of Damon's ambush. First, Nate was downstairs, fighting the Brotherhood when he lit the incendiary charges, burning to a crisp. Then he was back in the hall during the SPARTAN's initial attack, but in Grant's place, getting half of his head blown away. Then during their flight, instead of focusing on the Coursers, his friend crashed into him, breaking his body and sending him slamming into one of the walls. Then Damon was standing before him, Jess crushed, and the towering man reached forward and grasping his neck. Nate felt his bones crumble in the armored titan's grip.

The ex-soldier died in his nightmare over and over again, each time that impassive golden visor was the last thing he saw. Whoever decided to design their armor did a good job. They didn't just design something that worked as protection, they made something people would remember. Something they'd fear. Massive, imposing, impersonal. Then they stuffed it with a supersoldier with questionable sanity and broken morals and told him to kill.

Small wonder Damon turned out the way he did. Massive wonder he was somehow still a decent person.

When Nate finally awoke, he was covered in sweat, breathing just as hard as he was during the ambush. His heart was pounding its way up his throat, and his body was trembling almost uncontrollably.

His broken ribs had slipped his mind but, as he tried to sit up, they reminded him they were still broken with a cascade of sharp lances spearing through his sternum.

With a choked groan, Nate fell back in his bed and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He tried to think of something- anything, but his mind was utterly blank. He didn't want to go back to sleep though. The infantryman didn't want to see any more ways the SPARTAN could have killed him.

So he stayed there, watching the steel ceiling, listening to the gentle hum of air wafting through the vents around him, struggling to control his breathing. After a while, his arms and legs stopped trembling, his heartbeat calmed, and most of the cold sweat soaking him dried.

He had to wonder what it was like for Damon's targets back in his universe. If they were a few hundred strong instead of a few dozen. Knowing someone was there, wiping your comrades out, but no idea who or what was doing it… That would have been terrifying.

An understatement if ever there was one.

Eventually, the ex-soldier forced himself to look at the clock beside his bed. 0330. He'd been asleep for 10 hours.

And I could probably do another 10.

That would have been a bad idea; he had no interest in seeing anything else his imagination had to offer.

Instead, he rolled sideways and slipped out of bed, careful to avoid aggravating his injured ribs again. It wasn't the first time they'd been broken, but it was the first time so many had been broken at once.

Thanks for that, Damon.

He shuffled to the bathroom and started the shower, turning it up almost to the point it burned, slipped his pants off, and stepped in.

As the near scalding water washed over him, his mind began uncoiling. The conversation he had with Jess replayed itself and, after a few moments' consideration, Nate decided she was right. They need a plan, one that was better thought out than most of his. Something that was thought further ahead than most of his. For as much as the SPARTAN could help, he also complicated things. Nate knew from experience now, with a situation this complex, he needed someone better versed in that sort of planning than himself.

They'd become more conservative with their private meetings since Nate had joined Ayo and Shaun's good graces, but now wasn't the time to be timid about it. They needed to come up with a plan, and Ayo and Shaun thought they could just kill Damon at their convenience.

How the hell did they think that? It made no sense. They win a few hit-and-run fights against the Brotherhood, and suddenly they're ready to take on one of the best warriors a society stuck in a genocidal war for three decades has to offer? Do they just think throwing numbers at the problem is going to solve it? If you can't track, pin down, or ambush a target like Damon, numbers don't mean a goddamn thing. The armored titan will just send more of them back horizontally.

Dunning-Kruger Effect.

No, this needs to be planned out by the splinter group. They may not have a better answer for fighting Damon, but they do have a better answer for allying with him.

The Railroad is going to be helpful, but Nate could think of one other way. They should talk it through first because it could put Sanctuary at risk.

And if they put Sanctuary at risk, they could kiss any communication attempts, and their own asses, goodbye.

Problem was, no one would be up for another few hours, and the thought of running on the treadmill with broken ribs might have been more terrifying than Damon. So what to do until he could track down Li?

An idea came to mind, and while she might be irritated, it seemed like the right thing to do.

After what was probably the longest shower Nate had taken in 20 years, he shut the water off, dried, and got dressed. Exiting his apartment, the ex-soldier began toward Jess's.

To Nate's surprise, his teammate was already awake when he knocked on her door in the main living quarters. It slid open to reveal her likewise dressed, and wearing a tired frown.

"You too?"

Nate nodded. "You want to come with me? I thought we'd…" he took a deep breath. "I thought we'd get a drink for Grant. Just the two of us."

A moment's hesitation followed as Conklin continued frowning at him. He didn't know if she'd want to do it. Maybe she just needed some time alone. The fight was barely 18 hours ago.

"Sure", she said eventually, stepping out of her room and keying the door shut.

The two of them walked to the commons in silence. It wasn't stilted or awkward, in fact, it was one Nate had shared with plenty of his brothers and sisters in arms over the years. It was quiet understanding, a connection that came from surviving traumatic events together. Cook, Dupree, Beckett, Sampson… Damon. Nothing needed to be said. Both he and Jess knew the other was thinking the same thing.

When they reached the empty hub, it was still darkened, simulating the nighttime sky that existed somewhere beyond this world, tucked safely away from the horrors of the Commonwealth. The best they could find in the cafeteria was fruit juice. It would do.

They sat at a table, each staring down at their chosen drink, his was grape, hers was pomegranate.

"Nate…" Jess said slowly and so quiet he almost missed it. "Damon killed Grant."

He looked up to see her already staring at him. "I know." The ex-soldier realized it was something he'd avoided thinking about, but it was the truth. Damon hadn't just killed Brotherhood, he'd killed Synths, who they were trying to help.

And he'd killed Grant. The SPARTAN would have killed Jess too if Nate hadn't stopped him. The ambush was a… shocking reminder of how easy it was for him to kill, both psychologically and physically.

Who was Nate kidding though, that wasn't unique to the armored titan. At least not the mentality. He knew plenty of regulars who were the same way. It would be a lie if the ex-soldier said he didn't have his moments too. Damon carried what he is with him everywhere he went. He understood who and what he is better than anyone else, but he still tried to do the right thing. For the most part.

Despite that… it was still Grant the SPARTAN had killed. It was still someone who, not only was he under Nate's command, he was a good man, and a friend. Damon shot him without an ounce of remorse. Someone who would have been on his side, had they known he was still alive.

"I know", Nate repeated, taking a sip of his overly sweet drink. "I- I can't apologize for that." He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. They couldn't take revenge for his death. It wasn't just because it would end with a lot more bodies, most likely none of them Damon's. It's because they need the big bastard.

Even if a small part of the ex-soldier resented him for what he'd done, he couldn't blame it on him, not entirely.

What if I'd been smart enough to see what Ayo and Shaun were doing?

"If you need to blame someone, blame me."

Jess's cup hit the steel table hard enough the sound made Nate jump. It echoed around the still empty cavernous hub. "Don't give me that bullshit", she said, voice tight. When the ex-soldier met her gaze, fire had replaced the tiredness in her eyes. "I couldn't sleep. I had… nightmares about your friend and what he did. When I woke up I couldn't help thinking 'what if he was on our side?' Like you said yesterday… this morning?" She frowned at him in confusion.

"Yesterday", the ex-soldier said with a nod.

"Like you said yesterday: we need his help. We both know yesterday wouldn't have happened if things had been handled right. You wouldn't have been in the position you were." Her eyes were hard and her jaw was set. The young woman looked pissed. "You've moped around for the last month. Damon was right, you fucked up, but I don't think that makes you guilty."

I wouldn't have been in the position I was if things had been handled right? By Shaun? Did she mean if he hadn't organized that ambush? If he hadn't tried to kill Damon? If he hadn't turned their best weapon against them?

No- not weapon. Damon isn't a weapon. Not to me. Enough people treat him like a weapon, he doesn't need me to.

The ex-soldier allowed himself a small smile. "You're right… I- I shouldn't have let it happen, but I'm not the one who pulled the trigger."

Jess nodded curtly. "You need to stop with this 'woe is me' crap." Her expression softened. "You don't need to take the blame for everything."

You don't need to take the blame for everything.

That was… novel. It was also the first time he's heard that since… since Nora.

Sitting in the living room across from her, Nate was fidgeting as Nora glared at him.

"Why?" she asked, voice hard.

"Because those are my orders." It was the wrong answer, and he knew it, but it was the only answer he could give.

"Oh come on, Nate. You and I both know that's bull, so tell me the real reason."

He didn't say anything. She knew him well enough, she knew the reason. Nora just wanted him to say it, to admit it to himself. He knew he would, eventually.

"I've got all goddamn night", his wife continued. "I put Margret on hold until tomorrow."

"You already know what I'm going to say", the soldier said quietly.

Nora threw her hands up. "That's right, I do. You do too. It's the same reason you kept turning down reassignment, why you kept turning down promotions. Why you turned down officer school." She continued glaring at him as the tense silence fell back over the room. Nate didn't know why he did this. She was better at it than him; she was more patient, and she was much better at pulling things out of people.

"Andy is my friend too", she said, "hell I probably spend as much time with Miranda as you do him, but what's happened isn't your fault."

"I know", Nate said, nodding.

"Clearly you don't! If you did, you'd stay here with him. You wouldn't be going back there before you've recovered completely."

That knife drove deep into the soldier's chest.

She was right. She was always right.

"Tell me why you're going back, Nate."

He sheepishly met her gaze. "Because I don't want to let anyone else down."

Nora's jaw set and her eyes drilled into him with an intensity he'd only seen a few times. "I dare you to say that to Miranda or Andy."

Even on one leg, if he did, Cook would whoop his ass so bad he'd end up in the hospital bed next to him.

And Nora would help.

"You need to stop treating everything like it's your responsibility", she continued, exasperated. "You act like everything that happens is your fault. Like you constantly need to make up for shortcomings you don't have."

But I don't know what else to do.

He didn't say that though. Both because he knew it was a lie, and because it would only upset her more. He knew what he could do to make things better, he was just too afraid to do them.

"I took the afternoon off", Nora said. "We're going to see Andy."

Nate took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The ex-soldier's mind jumped back to the present, where Jess was still glaring at him angrily. "I know. Sometimes… sometimes it's hard." He took another drink. "But this one's more personal for me. Damon-" How the hell was he supposed to explain that? "Damon is one of the strongest people I've ever met, but he's also 19 and going through a lot. He needed help and I wasn't there for him when I should have been. After he went out of his way to do something for me I threw it in his face, and, when he did the right thing at the Railroad, when I was too scared to, I betrayed him. I- I didn't think he'd be ambushed, but I should have known. Even if I didn't plan it, how I acted made that outcome a reality."

He fell silent. His teammate's eyes were still locked on his with that same intensity Nora had.

"But you're right, I can't take full responsibility for this."

After another few silent seconds of glaring, Jess's eyes softened. "I understand you care about him- hearing he's 19 is… surprising- but if you want to help him, you can't sit around beating yourself up about it. Nut up and figure it out."

Nate smiled again. "Thanks, Conklin."

She nodded and raised her glass. "To Grant."

"To Grant", the ex-soldier said, raising his glass as well.

A/N: Well then… that happened. I definitely find it appropriate I happened to be listening to Bob Dylan's Masters of War as I write this. So this was, in my mind, a fairly standard storytelling mechanism, so why did I do it? Well, I'm not going to explain all of it, because that's what the story is here for, but suffice to say, it wasn't just an excuse to write from someone else's perspective. In fact, that was the last reason, really. My first draft actually had Damon's absence only lasting a chapter and a half. So why did it end up 7? Because that's how things go sometimes. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined, and I'll see everyone next week!

Chapter 41: 6/10, A Plan Only Lasts…