A/N: Alriiiiiighty, I have returned! The Institute has decided to call Damon's bluff. That leaves us with two questions: is Sanctuary able to hold off the attack, and how will Damon respond to said attack? There's still a lot of mystery around what, exactly, the Institute is doing, but I'm not about to tell you in the author's not :). Anyway, I won't ramble like I did last week, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 55: Old Friends, Old Enemies

My leg burned.

Every stride I took sent jarring pain shooting through my hip. It was pain I'd felt before but, no matter what anyone says, that doesn't make it easier to deal with. It was damn near debilitating, every muscle around the wound contracting painfully, trying to support the damage. Nerve endings screaming out about the torn tissue and flesh.

That pain was of absolutely no immediate concern to me.

My stride never broke as I sprinted across the same path I'd taken toward Sanctuary the first time. It was still a few klicks away but, as I crossed the mixture of rolling hills and loosely packed forest at top speed, that distance shrank by the second.

The sounds of gunfire from the northeast spurred me on.

There were a few animals that blurred past in the darkness. I paid them no mind. They didn't get the chance to attack me, even if they'd wanted to.

"Go."

MacCready's voice was even more strained than his expression. His arm was still dangling at his side, blood dripping from his fingers. The tiny, hypersonic projectile had torn through his tricep but it wasn't the pain that had him worried.

In the 20 minutes, the Institute had been attacking us, there's no way for me to know what they've done to Sanctuary. They were well prepared and they knew there was a risk of attack but…

But this is the Institute. They'd hit several key Brotherhood locations, even given them fits in Cambridge. If they mobilized everything, I have no doubt they could cause serious problems. Even overrun the small settlement

As I drove my right leg into the ground, launching myself over a small outcropping of rocks on the side of a slope, it tried to buckle. It took every piece of willpower to maintain my footing and land on the other side without going down. A groan escaped my clenched jaw, but I barely noticed as my armored boots continued pounding against the loose dirt and dead brush.

Alex, Ellie, Preston, Sturges, Brenda… everyone. They're in danger.

I can't- if anything happens to them, it's because I let myself get pushed into this.

My left foot hit a loose patch of dirt and tried to slide out from under me. I locked my knees and balanced as I slid down the hillside. As soon as I had traction, I burst forward again.

After everything, they're the only ones who didn't turn their backs on me. Everyone in this goddamn wasteland. I betrayed their trust like I did with Cass and Tommy. Like the two kids, they forgave me. More than forgave me, they still trust me. This isn't how I repay that. I don't pay that trust back by letting the Institute kill them.

How am I going to make the Institute pay for this? How am I going to make good on my promise of burning their world down?

A surprised yelp came from my right as I passed through a thicket of trees. The rustling of several wild dogs barely had time to register before I was past them. A small sapling directly in my path snapped like a dry twig as I barrelled through it.

And I will burn it down, even if Sanctuary survives the night. I told them what would happen if they did this.

And once I've turned the Institute to ash, I'll douse those ashes in gasoline and light them on fire again. I don't care what I have to do. I've dealt with worse than them. Shit, Katrina, Mendez, even Fourier put me through more trying exercises than this little wannabe ONI.

Have I been taking it easy on them? Because Li is still there, trying to do things her way? Because Nate is still there despite what he did?

Fuck that.

They're threatening people who trust me. No, it's past that, they're attacking them.

Maybe other people have trusted me in the past. My handlers trusted me to accomplish the missions I was given. Fourier, Amanda, and Liam probably trusted me in combat and maybe even, to an extent, as a person.

Sanctuary, some of the people there, know me better than anyone besides Nate and Cass. They trust me. Not SPARTAN G-052. They trust Damon.

As I drew within a klick of the settlement, the indistinct gunfire coming from the small island grew more and more audible. It was a mixture of laser and conventional weapons.

Shit.

My leg panged in protest again as I veered right toward the river. Even if I want to be down in the action, getting my hands dirty in the middle of the fight, it isn't where I'd be most effective now. I have very little doubt the Institute will have posted lookouts for my approach. They know their ambush didn't work, now they'll be worried I'm coming to assist.

They're goddamn right I'm coming to assist.

On top of the potential of being caught in another ambush, as hard as I'm pushing it now, my injury won't allow me to maneuver and fight like I'm used to. Close-quarters combat requires instantaneous actions and reactions. There's no time to think or plan. It's one of the reasons I spent years drilling. You have to know what you're going to do before you do it.

While I can compensate for an injured leg, I need to be as effective as possible right now. That means I can't let emotions get in the way. People's lives are at risk.

When I reached the river, I slowed to prevent the loud splash I'd make if I hit the water at full speed. The sickly brown water rose to greet me as I slipped beneath the surface.

The river wasn't wide. A few seconds later, I was scrambling up the opposite slope into the hills that would put me above Sanctuary. The spot I'd used to watch the Brotherhood land here a few days ago would serve perfectly. More than that, with the McMillan clamped to my back, I have the right tool for the job this time.

There was more dry underbrush and fallen leaves on the ground, so I had to move much slower to stay quiet. Every moment that passed, every gunshot that sounded in front of me was almost painful. I was so close, but I couldn't rush. If I do I risk blowing any surprise I might have. If the Institute is smart, and considering their actions thus far, they are, they'll have patrols in the forest.

Then again, as with the ambush in Concord, if they're trying to keep their deployed forces to a minimum they may be concentrated around Sanctuary.

If they're trying to keep numbers limited, any cordon would be tight.

If that's the case, I just need to outdistance the cordon.

From the first mission I ran with my sniper rifle, I know I'm well within my effective range. It isn't ideal but… my best option is probably to take the first position I can that has the settlement in sight. This is about time. The longer I take, the more people die.

The river began bending north a few dozen meters ahead. Past that was a small rise. It didn't offer much cover, but it would have sightlines to Sanctuary.

That will work.

A few seconds later, I crested the slope and the small settlement came into view.

If the gunfire wasn't a giveaway, the sight of the embattled town was.

The floodlights were half obscured by the wall, limiting the illumination past it, but protecting them from incoming fire. They weren't all that necessary though. A few dozen Synths were scattered across the opposite shore, blue lasers pouring across the opening. Most of the laser fire was unfocused, hitting different positions on the wall. Suppressing fire.

As I laid down, a tight smile spread across my face. Those firing slots we'd done so much work to hide in the barrier were working.

Conventional gunfire punctuated the night, muzzle flashes exploding all across the wall and in the small armored overwatch positions above. Laser and conventional weapon fire were likewise being exchanged in the forest above the settlement. The main force was assaulting from the south. That's where I'd focus.

Pulling the McMillan from my back, I propped it on its bipod and pressed its stock to my shoulder.

Round chambered, I sighted through its scope at my first target. It was a Synth in that obnoxiously bright white armor made that much worse by my night vision. The Synth was on the north edge of the attack force, clearly part of a team trying to push across the bridge.

Not going to happen.

My index finger clicked the safety off and I rested it against the trigger. This range, about 900 meters… 5 meters of drop, slight left to right crosswind. Just like the night before, the air was cool. Shouldn't need to worry about a downdraft over the river.

Aim corrected, I took a deep breath, exhaled, held.

And squeezed.

The 12.7mm round exploded from the rifle's muzzle, its brake sending out a shockwave that threw dirt and leaves up from the ground around me.

That armor didn't have a chance in hell of stopping the anti-material round. The shot hit a little high and to the left. Which is why I aimed for the chest instead of the head.

It hit with more than enough energy to kill the Synth, its left arm practically separating from the rest of its body.

There was no time to admire the spectacularly gruesome results.

The next round chambered an instant later. Another heartbeat and it too was on its way toward its target. Synth trying to punch through the bridge's defense.

I emptied my first magazine before any of the Institute forces seemed to notice the problem. It wasn't unusual; sniper fire is hard to pick out when everything is shooting at you.

As I slipped in the second magazine, the laserfire spearing toward the front of the settlement slackened. By the time I was back on my scope the Synth force was scrambling for cover. They still didn't know exactly where I was shooting from. Again, not unusual, but now they're looking for me and it won't be long before my position is discovered. If they have a rear guard waiting for me, which I have to assume they do, I'll need to move soon.

There was still some time. At almost a klick, their rear guard would take a few minutes to narrow down my impromptu perch and reach me. Direct engagement isn't just unnecessary, it's a bad idea here. They need to not know where they're going to get hit from next. The enemy you don't see is the worst one.

With another squeeze of the trigger, the second magazine's first round exploded from the rifle. It speared through a tree and I saw an explosion of white armor and red blood on the opposite side.

The next three rounds all found targets, the final one missed. The Synth ducked below a berm as I squeezed the trigger and the bullet sailed over it.

Nine down. Granted, the first five were caught off-guard, but that's a good start.

Now was the time to move.

Changing out the empty magazine, I clamped the McMillan to my back again and climbed to my feet. My hip, again, panged in protest and I, again, ignored it. I set off directly north, heading away from the river. I bought Sanctuary some time. Both of us need to use it wisely.

Balky leg aside, I felt good as I slipped further into the forest. The Institute hadn't teleported anything into Sanctuary thanks to their signal jammer. That's assuming they wanted to. Wth Cambridge a little over 15 kilometers away, they may be worried about a response from the Brotherhood. The did spend an entire night screwing with them.

Any rear guard that came after me would be Coursers. As much as I hate to admit it, they have an advantage with their active camo. That isn't the reason I don't want to engage. I've been hunted by camouflaged squads of elites before. Coursers only wish they were that effective.

After passing through a tight grouping of trees, I paused to look and listen. Active camo can hide most visual cues someone is in the area. It can't hide sound.

Ten seconds ticked off my clock. I began forward again, slipping between rocks and trees. There was a ravine a few hundred meters north of the river that would take me to the armored shack. With the steep angles and narrow opening, it's hard to see if you don't know it's there. Especially in the darkness of night.

Pain was still radiating from the small wound on my hip. I guess if someone was going to get through my armor, what the Courser had shot me with was the best option. It had been small and extremely high velocity. That's the only way it would have punched through the nanofiber weave with as little damage as it did. The projectile wouldn't have gotten far before ricocheting off of my pelvis.

Gunfire began picking up at the south end of the settlement again. These were more conventional reports than the odd, twangy ones laser rifles had. They'd pressed the opening I gave them. Good.

That assault had been disrupted. If I can remove the threat from the hills above Sanctuary, this will be over.

As I slid down into the ravine, I checked the MK18. It was still fully functional, but with only one magazine in reserve, this could get very tight.

Scavenging guns off dead enemies isn't anything new.

Snap.

I froze as the sound of a branch breaking sounded to my south.

Don't stop.

Stopping in a combat zone can be the right move at times. Right now didn't feel like one of them. That sound was close, within 20 meters to be that audible over the gunfire.

When I began forward again, I did so at a much slower pace, listening intently for anything else. The Institute has shown a propensity for exploiting other people's habits. The longer this goes on, the more I find they have in common with ONI.

Another snap, this one in almost the same position.

Really? Do you think I'm that stupid? So they don't know where I am, but they know I'd most likely react to a stimulus like that. The idea they'd do the same thing in the same spot… that's damn near insulting.

Rigid doctrine.

Their problem is I've had experience with people who tried to do the same thing: exploit trends. Most of the Innies I dealt with after the first year or so knew of me, or at least that there was a SPARTAN hunting them. They had access to better information and better technology than these hacks.

Adapting to macro situations isn't my strong suit. Adapting in combat? That's something I'm good at.

Once I was a few hundred meters clear of the sound, and nearing the armored shack, I resumed my normal pace. I was so close to the gunfire now, it took an appreciable effort to keep myself down in the ravine. This would be the opposite of the first engagement. The closer I can get, the harder it will be for the Synths to respond in the limited sightlines of the forest.

As I passed within 50 meters of the shack, I began a countdown in my head.

10.

This would have to be over quickly. With the compromised leg, I'll still have an advantage in close quarters, but it will only last as long as it takes for whatever Coursers are patrolling out here to make it to the fight. If that happens, this turns into a slog.

6.

A laser bolt flashed overhead. Its report came from no more than a dozen meters away. My right leg was stiff and still hurt, but it would hold.

3.

2.

Another volley of lasers shot overhead. A barrage of conventional fire responded.

1.

As I leaped from the ravine, searing pain radiated from my hip. The agony lanced through my right side so hard it almost interfered with my jump. When I emerged from the two-meter-deep trough, there were a half dozen Synths directly in front of me.

Part of me was hoping my allies wouldn't fire and hit me. The other part of me hoped they would. Catching friendly fire wasn't ideal, but the added suppression would help.

They went with option two.

Gunfire continued at my back. I took a smattering of rounds that flared my shields but nothing more. It was incredibly difficult to keep 15 years of training in check, to not respond in kind. They were friendlies.

My real targets, the Synths, started to move for cover. They were moving at the speed of regular humans. That's to say, slowly.

Hurling myself forward, I crossed the dozen meters between myself and them in an instant. The first one fell as I buried the MK18's muzzle in its head and pulled the trigger. Another to my right tried to track me with its rifle. It died a split-second later as a second round crashed into its neck.

An odd sort of pleasure snaked through my mind as I grabbed the arm of another that was turning to face me. Its thin, polycarbonate armor cracked in my grip. The fact this stuff could stop bullets, even smaller caliber rifle rounds astounded me.

I twisted its arm hard enough I felt a pop, probably its elbow dislocating, and sent a straight kick into the thing's chest. The chest plate held up about as well, splintering under my armored boot and the Synth careened backward until it hit a tree with a loud crack.

The next 30 seconds raced by as I weaved between the trees, moving from one target to another. Some of them I shot, but most were dealt with using other methods.

Namely, my hands. Every time one of their helmets splintered under the force of a strike, or I felt a limb snap from a grapple, it was satisfying. Satisfying in a way I hadn't felt in… I don't know how long.

In those 30 seconds, I counted 8 targets down. The defenders in the bunker killed 5 more. Include the first 3 I killed, that cut the rear assault force down by almost 20.

The shooting had practically stopped in the hills.

Within the 10 minutes since I arrived, I counted 25 dead. I don't know how many the defenders had killed before then or how many they've killed to the south. Whatever that number is, losing 30-plus units had to hurt.

The last Synth's neck was crushed between my forearm and a tree.

The sound of my shields' alarm made its way through the haze of anger and satisfaction.

They were depleted. How had I not noticed?

That was dangerous. I'd lost situational awareness. I'd allowed my emotions to run the show.

Glancing back along my path, I studied the bodies I'd left in my wake. Two had died from gunshots but most of them were broken, killed by blunt force.

Yes, losing situational awareness concerned me, but I won't lie to myself and say I didn't enjoy that.

I have to be more careful next time. I can't let that happen again.

There were glimpses of Synths moving through the forest, retreating. I was tempted to give chase, but that isn't the goal. It doesn't matter how many I kill, the Institute can produce more. The objective is to repel their attack. Here, at least, it seems that was successful.

Attacking Synths now out of my immediate area, I slipped back toward the armored shack. That piece of fortification was an incredible move on their part. It was something they'd done themselves.

"Friendly coming out", I called as I emerged into the clearing they'd made around it.

The moment I stepped forward someone shouted "STOP!" from the shack. I didn't recognize the voice but that hardly matters. They're all going to be on short triggers.

A few seconds passed in relative silence as I stood at the edge of the ring, gunfire punctuating the night. Every shot that sounded wound my muscles tighter and tighter, pain spearing through my hip as my legs coiled.

"Damon", the man said again, the relief in his voice now palpable. Whoever was talking was inside the shack, most likely using one of the half dozen firing slots cut into the front. Three dead bodies, riddled with laser burns, were scattered across the small deck. It was impossible to tell if they'd died in the fighting or been ambushed. Either way, the Institute would pay for that. Synths produced solely for combat weren't enough.

They need to feel it.

"Hold fire."

While stalking toward the shack, my eyes were scanning the forest. This didn't necessarily mean they were gone, just that they're changing tact. Forces were searching for me. If those were Coursers, I need to be here to help put them down.

"Status", I barked. That came out more demanding than it needed to.

"Uh…" I heard the floor of the shack creak as one of the occupants began walking toward the door.

"Stay inside."

A brief pause as the movement stopped.

"Okay." Whoever I was talking to cleared their throat. "The Institute started attacking about 15 minutes before you got here. Jace, Hannah, and Trent…"

My eyes shifted to the bodies.

"Dead."

The shack had laser scoring all across its surface. It had taken a beating but was still structurally sound. For now, at least. They'd done a good job with it.

"I know", the person continued quietly. "They got surprised. Took two of the bastards down with 'em though."

There was an odd defensiveness in the man's voice.

"I understand. How many of you are in there?"

"Five. We were changing out watch when they attacked. Guess switching when we did that was a good idea."

Fighting was still raging at the front of the settlement. Their defensive effort was impressive. Even being unable to teleport inside the walls, the Institute should have had the force to break through. From what I could tell through my scope they had effective, overlapping fields of fire and prioritized suppression over kills. There are a few good shots in their ranks; they were probably trying to give them opportunities. The tactics weren't a surprise, the discipline to maintain them was.

If I moved around to the rear of the shack, I could get a good vantage point overlooking the fighting. Providing fire support from up here while still staying close enough to assist a second assault seemed like a good idea.

As I thought that, something in the battle changed. The sounds of laser fire began tapering slowly. Over the next 30 seconds, it died to maybe half volume.

Were they retreating too?

After losing an entire front of their assault, that isn't a huge surprise. If they knew their odds had dropped to near zero, they'd pull back. Nate-

Nate's the one who warned me about this.

Nate…

I retrieved my radio from its pouch and keyed transmit. Hopefully, either Sturges or Preston would be smart enough to have theirs on them during a fight.

"Sanctuary, this is Damon."

Silence greeted me. Once a few seconds had passed, I was about to try again when the Minuteman's voice came out. "Damon… It is damn good to hear from you. We noticed someone pickin' them off. That you?"

"Affirmative. I'm at the shack with the guards here. This force has been neutralized for the moment. What's your status?"

"The Synths tailing off. People up in the towers are saying they're retreating."

As he spoke, I saw the telltale flash of a Molecular Relay transit deep in the forest.

Then another.

And a third.

They continued lighting up the night one after the other.

Assuming that means this is over would be a mistake though. They've already shown a penchant for using those as a decoy.

"Maintain watch. They used their relay signals to draw the Brotherhood to my position last night. This may be a diversion."

Preston paused for another moment before responding. "Alright. How long?"

While I wanted to say 'until it's safe' that isn't a very good answer.

"Our comms are compromised. I'll find you when it's safe to stand down."

"Got it." There were voices in the background of that last transmission. It sounded like people were arguing…

Worry about that later. For now, I need to make sure the settlement is safe.

Slipping the radio back into my satchel I rapped on the front of the shack. "Stay alert, I'm going to clear the perimeter."

"We got it. And thank you, Damon." The man's voice was on the verge of breaking as he finished speaking

Thank you? I blinked. I just did what I was supposed to.

And in doing so, probably saved their lives.

"That's why I'm here."

Their gratitude felt… odd. I didn't wait for a response.

The next two hours were spent switching between pacing out an expanding perimeter through the forest and stopping in well-hidden areas to watch for a response.

Nothing.

Had they retreated? There's no way of knowing, there could be Coursers hiding in the forest, stationary with their active camouflage.

Now I know what Innies felt like when I hunted them, hiding in forests or plains, in mountains, or on a few of the glassed wastelands around human space.

While searching, I did find a trio of footprints that led to where I'd heard the branches snap on my way in. They seemed to mill around for a while, searching the area for me, before heading north into the hills. I didn't want to move too far from Sanctuary, so I didn't follow them too far, but there had probably been Coursers.

Keeping the settlers on watch too much longer would only compromise their defense. Most people think war is all about active combat. It isn't. Most of the time, during a regular war, soldiers spend it on patrols, on watch, or guarding key positions. As a SPARTAN, I didn't do much- or any- of that but, even in my limited exposure to regs, I heard enough griping to know.

After what they just went through, they'll need rest. They aren't SPARTANs or soldiers. They're very well disciplined and resilient, but everyone needs rest at some point.

Before heading down the path toward Sanctuary, I checked with the settlers on guard at the Shack. The man I'd spoken with was Terry. Maybe he'd been the one Preston appointed lead for that post. They were rattled, but still aware.

If there was anyone who could relieve them, they needed it.

With the action over, my adrenaline tapered off, and my muscles cool, my entire right side was on fire. Everything from my calf up through my torso had been compensating for the gunshot wound, and now I was paying for it.

Even though I tried to keep my gait steady as I walked toward Sanctuary, there was a hitch I couldn't hide. I almost asked why I was trying to hide it, but I already knew the answer. Terry's reaction to my arrival was just affirmation of what I'd said before: I'm more than just protection for these people. I volunteered to make myself the lightning rod for the Minutemen.

A dozen settlers were milling around the center of Sanctuary when I crossed the bridge. They were busy carrying weapons, supplies, and even people, a few of which were covered in sheets.

My jaw set and I felt my shoulders tighten as I saw that.

Goddamn Institute.

"Damon!"

I turned to my left and saw Alex helping someone with a bandaged leg toward a house.

She was struggling under the larger man's weight.

As I stalked toward them, the woman's expression had me wondering if something happened. She had a relieved smile that was so obvious I could have seen it in complete blackness. There was tension in it too, like she was unsure of something.

Taking the man's weight off Alex's shoulder, I glanced at her.

"What's the situation?" I asked as I helped the injured settler into the house.

"The- oh. That's something you're probably gonna want to talk with Preston about."

My eyes narrowed. Something was going on. Alexandra was always direct. Maybe she was shell-shocked by the attack. I didn't think so though, she'd been through this before and had two hours to recover."

The man settled on a bed and flashed me a cautious smile.

"Why?"

Alex let out a long, slow exhale. "Just come with me."

Uh-huh.

When we left the house, settlers were still scrambling back and forth. They barely paid any attention to us. My limp was noticeable enough Alexandra cocked an eyebrow at me before we'd made it 10 meters. "What's up with you, soldier boy?"

There was a touch of worry in the question.

"We were ambushed by the Institute shortly before they started their assault here." I motioned at my leg. "Got careless, one of them put a round into my hip."

Both of her eyebrows went up. "Careless?"

That wasn't the entire story but it could wait. My injury wasn't life-threatening and there are more important things that need attention at the moment.

"Later."

She frowned. I half expected her to argue. She didn't. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and turned away.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've seen you fight hurt."

The first time she saw me fight with an injury was the first time she saw me. It isn't as uncommon as I'd like it to be.

Instead of leading me to the armory, which was where Preston would normally hold meetings, Alex was heading toward the bridge. Or one of the houses near it.

People were streaming into and out of the large, faded brown house.

"Hey everyone", she called as we approached, "can you give us a few minutes?"

What the hell? I don't need a private meeting with anyone. Now alarms were going off. What is Alex so worried about she didn't want to tell me first, and now she wants time alone? Now?

A disjointed chorus of tired 'yes's were followed by the settlers moving back to whatever post they'd been at.

"Alexandra", I said quietly, "what aren't you telling me?"

She didn't reply. The woman didn't even respond to my using her full first name.

When we reached the door, she pounded on it twice before calling, "coming in."

Alex entered and I ducked through after her. I found myself standing in the house's living room, much like the armory. This one had been cleared of everything but a small table they had sitting against the wall to my right.

In the room were Preston, Vincent, whose right arm was dressed, Brenda, and Danse. The former Brotherhood Paladin was watching me, face grim. If he'd been involved in planning and executing their defense, that would explain why it had been so sound. A small piece of me was irritated he'd come out of the Vault, but if Dez's people had found the Brotherhood mole, it wasn't a problem.

Was that what Alex was worried about? I'd be upset Danse wasn't in the bunker? No, they wouldn't be worried about-

Oh.

Nate.

The ex-soldier's warning had proven correct. Even if it only gave me a few seconds' advance on the ambush in Concord, it made a difference. His warning about the attack here had me hauling ass to assist in time to make a difference.

Now Nate was standing here, eyes fixed on me along with six other people that I assume are from the Institute too. They were all crowded into the far end of the room, the rest of its occupants between us. The place was large but, with a dozen people in it, things felt uncomfortably crowded.

Each of them was wearing similar clothing: some combination of fatigues or cargo pants and body armor over a thick shirt or jacket. They were all carrying rifles similar to the ones the Railroad had delivered a few days ago.

The only one who wore the kit like they meant it was Nate. His was properly adjusted to fit, tight enough to stay in place but loose enough to move, sling over his neck, and rifle casually held at rest. Even though his stiff posture and deep frown said he was anxious, it wasn't the gear that did it. The others looked like they'd trained in their equipment, maybe even been through a few gunfights, but it wasn't part of their daily lives.

So this is why their defense was so successful. They not only had the fortifications and established positions, they had two experienced combat veterans to coordinate. One of them had intimate knowledge of the strategies, tactics, and capabilities of the attackers.

No one had said anything since I entered the house. Even the settlers were watching me in tense silence.

They're concerned I'd lose my composure and, what, attack Nate? It would be a lie to say seeing the ex-soldier again didn't make me want to put a bullet in him. In the head instead of the chest. If they trust me, do they really have such low expectations for my self-control?

Even so…

"When I said I'd kill you the next time I saw you, what did you think that meant?" I asked, breaking the silence that had draped itself over the house.

The ex-soldier remained quiet for a moment, his eyes still locked on mine through my visor. To his credit, Nate didn't seem concerned about the question. "That you're at least willing to give me a chance given the right circumstances."

"Damon", Preston interjected, "Nate got here a few minutes before the Institute. He helped-"

"Coordinated a response", I cut the Minuteman off, eyes still locked on Nate. It probably wasn't necessary to be as terse as I was, but irritated doesn't begin to describe my state of mind. The Institute played me two nights ago, ambushed me last night, attacked Sanctuary tonight, Nate has the balls to show up, and now the settlers don't trust me to remain calm like I'm some rabid animal.

"Start standing people down, put guards on two-hour rotations. Make sure anyone not on watch gets food, water, and rest."

Preston hesitated and I saw him glance from me to Nate and back out of the corner of my eye.

What the hell does he think would happen here if he leaves? Does he think it would be any different than if he stayed? The ex-soldier is right about this. I'm not going to kill him given the circumstances, not outright at least. He has too much valuable information.

"Staring at me won't get anything done."

"Fine", he grumbled, "Vincent-"

Really? My head snapped to the dark-skinned man. There are already enough people in this room to make me uncomfortable. Maybe I'm being selfish or dramatic, but this is personal. Very personal.

"I want the room, Preston."

A frown slipped across his face and, after another moment's hesitation, he relented with a nod.

"Come on", he muttered to the others, "let's give some people a break."

One by one, he, Vincent, Owens, and Alex filed from the room and back out to the bustling settlement. Danse remained rooted in place. The firm set jaw and narrow-eyed stare said I'd have to physically remove him if I wanted him gone. I was tempted to, he had no business being involved in this conversation.

Just say it.

Whatever.

"What are you doing?" I asked, eyes returning to Nate. His companions were shifting uncomfortably, staring at me with slightly widened eyes and coiled muscles. All except that young woman I'd also let live in the hospital. She had the same stoney gaze Nate did. There was one difference though: hers was angry.

The ex-soldier shifted. "Doing what I said I would: making a difference."

"You're working with Li and her splinter cell", I said. He nodded. "And you decided you were the best person to do this?"

The ex-soldier nodded again. "It was my job to teach them how to fight a war."

That's something I can't disagree with. If I learned anything in the week I spent in the Institute trying to prepare them, it's they had no chance of winning on their own. Nate's not only experienced, he's intelligent and clever.

Which leads to my next question.

"You interfered here to gain my trust, or because things are going bad in the Institute. Which is it?"

"You're missing a third option. Maybe we just wanted to help save people."

Help save them? "You don't know these people."

"That doesn't mean I can't want to help."

I cocked my head at the smaller man. "You did this out of sympathy for people you don't know; alienated yourself from the Institute for it."

"It isn't about whether I know them or not, Damon…" He frowned, "but you're right, I saw an opportunity and I took it. You don't believe me, I get that, but this was my best option."

Oh, I believe it, I just don't believe you're doing it out of altruism. "Best option?"

"Things were getting… complicated. After Andrew and your ambush, Ayo and Shaun stopped trusting me." He cocked an eyebrow. "We think they were under the impression I worked with you to set it up. Things were getting tight and we needed the opportunity to flip the board and take pressure off of elements still in the Institute." Nate motioned at the people behind him. "We've been trying to build a relationship with the people here and, by extension, you. I never thought you'd work directly with them though."

So I'd been right: Nate was funneling supplies to us through the Railroad to regain my cooperation. They'd run from the Institute because things were too hot there and used it as an opportunity to help save Sanctuary from an attack. An attack from the Institute.

Nate's gaze hadn't left my visor. "You're asking me to help you", I replied. "Again. Your son", the ex-soldier's eyes broke contact as they dropped to the floor, "was getting close to figuring out what Li is doing so you used this as a diversion. At the same time, you came to Sanctuary to save them from your son and ask for my help." That's the story he's giving me. "Why should I believe you?"

Taking a deep breath, the ex-soldier met my gaze again. "Because I'm here to give you as much information and support as we can." He sounded calm and composed once again. "You could torture me, but you'll get the same results."

Torture him? What would that be like? The first person I've 'tortured' that I know was Haylen and that wasn't really 'torture'. Then again, Haylen didn't try to kill me.

Again, I don't have enough information to make a decision either way. He says he's here to help, and everything I know supports that. The Institute and Nate have shown a penchant for complex maneuvers.

The searing pain of hypersonic projectiles punching through my armor was almost as sharp as it had been that night. The feeling of helplessness as the church crumbled around me. The first day of laying in the rubble waiting, wondering if I should even try to claw my way out. The 20 hours of slow, agonizing progress, shifting rubble, fighting against debilitating pain.

All of that happened because of Nate.

No… I can't absolve myself of responsibility. I shouldn't have put myself in that position, I should have known something like that would happen. But the fact remains he tried to use me the same way ONI did.

Even if he's telling the truth and he had no clue what was going to happen, it doesn't make things better. All that means is Shaun and Ayo could be manipulating him now too.

"You think this is another trap", the ex-soldier said. "You think this is an attempt to corner you by me, Shaun, or both."

It wasn't a question.

"There are a few things I can tell you that might change your mind."

Is that so? "Such as?"

"First, I know the Railroad has their headquarters established in a bunker about halfway between here and the airport. To be fair, that isn't something I found out until we decided to do this, they try to keep things compartmentalized. Second", he pulled something out of a pocket and offered it to me, "this is a map of key Institute hideouts and safehouses you don't know about yet."

I wanted to ask how he knew I didn't know about them, but that isn't important. I took the map and motioned for him to continue. This is… intriguing.

"Third, while getting back into the Institute will be difficult now they've tightened their security protocols, we have a lead on an old gen 3 prototype Synth who escaped a while ago. They still don't know how he did it, so he may have a backdoor into the relay. Fo-"

"You didn't bring any transponders?" I interrupted. That seemed like a major oversight.

Nate shook his head. "Doesn't matter if we had. They've started randomly generating a string 256 characters long that is sent to each registered transponder every 15 minutes. It's across encrypted channels we don't have the equipment to read and every transponder is now serialized. If we'd taken one, they would have known, eliminated it from the list and it would have been a paperweight."

It's a simple security system, one that could be defeated by anyone with any contemporary level of technology. That's enough in this place though.

"That's what I was going to tell you fourth", he said with a shrug.

As silence bloomed to fill the house again, my gaze moved from person to person. They were still all staring at me, uncomfortable but maybe a bit less apprehensive. I told Nate the next time I saw him, or the young woman I let survive, they'd be the first to catch a bullet.

Well here they are, standing right in front of me and not only are they not dead, but I have no intention of killing them.

No intention of killing them…

What the hell is wrong with me? They're threats, the Institute- Nate tried to kill me. I don't leave threats in a position where they can cause further harm. My method for removing them from that position has always been lethal force.

But now I'm making an exception?

Didn't I say I need to do things differently?

Yes, but this-

Isn't extraordinary. If they can be valuable, shouldn't I use that?

They're also dangerous.

Potentially. Risk vs. reward.

Risk vs. reward… The more assets I have on the board, the more likely I am to win. Right now my only assets are myself, a burgeoning Minutemen network, and the Railroad. Well, maybe the Railroad. Having information on critical Institute operations and a way to potentially infiltrate their facility, is invaluable.

And Nate is a competent, experienced combatant.

A competent, experienced combatant who came the closest of anyone here to killing me. Even if he claims he didn't do it intentionally.

"Damon", the man in question said quietly. There was something new in his voice, something I couldn't quite figure out. It had softened and lowered, almost to the point it was a whisper. "I don't expect you to trust me. You may never trust me again and I get that." The ex-soldier's jaw set. "Maybe I don't deserve it, but I'm doing this because I think it's the right thing to do. What's happening here, what the Institute and Brotherhood are doing to the Commonwealth… it won't turn out well for the people who live here. Someone has to do something about it. I know you're trying", he turned to look at the people behind him before meeting my gaze again, "we just want to help."

"I'm doing this because I think it's the right thing to do."

That bastard… He knows what buttons to push, doesn't he?

"Why should I believe what you and I think is the right thing is the same?" I'd asked something similar in the hospital. "You thought killing the Railroad was the right thing."

He nodded solemnly. "I did. I could run you down my reasons but I think you already know", a small smile spread across his face. "You know, I've thought about how this conversation might go ever since you hit us. This wasn't it."

Nate's smile disappeared and he drew himself up once again. "I know there are other questions but it's been a long day for everyone here. Sleep would probably be a good idea. Preston agreed to let us use this house for tonight."

Preston agreed?

If I'm going to work with the Minutemen, I can't overrule everything I don't like.

They can use the house, but I'm not going to have a potentially dangerous group here and armed. "Put your gear in the armory."

There was a brief hesitation from the others but Nate nodded. "That's fine, lead the way."

My feet stayed rooted in place for a few seconds while I glanced from person to person. These people are from the Institute and I have no way of knowing whether they're friendly or not. Recent history tells me they're dangerous and I shouldn't trust them, but what am I going to do? Tying them up, torturing them, killing them. It would make things easier, yes, but would it be the right decision?

I don't know.

Like I said to Preston, standing around staring won't get anything done. I turned and led them back into the night. The settlement was still buzzing with activity, but no one spared a second glance at us. That makes sense; they've been fixated on me since I arrived, but they just got hit. Hard. Priorities have a tendency to shift when traumatic or high-risk events happen.

Once Nate's people deposited their guns and equipment in the armory- the ex-soldier's home- we returned to the faded brown house. As much as I wanted to scout Sanctuary's perimeter, stay on alert for more attacks, I couldn't. Now these people are here I can't leave.

Danse was still waiting in the living room when we walked in. I needed to ask him or Preston about the Brotherhood mole. Dez said her people found them. If he's down here, that has to have happened otherwise it won't matter the Institute's attack didn't succeed here. If Maxson finds out the former Paladin has taken refuge (even if it isn't entirely voluntary) here, they're coming in guns blazing.

As his people went to find places to sleep, Nate sat in one of the chairs on the far side of the living room. 'Sat' may have been a bit generous. He dropped into it like his legs could no longer support him. Now that he wasn't putting on a show, the man looked exhausted. He hadn't shaved in a while, his beard was almost as unkempt as it had been by the time we made it to the Institute, there were bags under his eyes, and I didn't miss the slight tremors in his hands.

"Danse", I said, eyes staying fixed on the ex-soldier, "what happened with our mole?"

"Someone from the Railroad and that old Synth-"

"Nick", I interrupted. The way he said 'old Synth' sounded like an insult.

"Nick", he continued, "brought him into my room to see if I could identify him." He frowned. "The Brotherhood has thousands of members, I don't know all of them." The Synth almost sounded defensive.

"Where is he now?"

"They kept him down in the Vault."

After things settle maybe I have a word with this guy. For now…

"Nate."

The ex-soldier blinked. It was so slow I felt as though I could measure it in seconds. He took a deep breath as he did and, once he was done, met my gaze.

"Yes?"

"Why-"

The rest of the words caught in my throat. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because there were so many things I wanted to ask.

Why are you really here?

Why now?

Why did you come?

Why did you bring the other woman?

More 'why's kept popping into mind every moment, more than I could keep up with. As they did, they grew less about the current situation and more personal. That's unprofessional, isn't it? I know I should be worried about the current, volatile situation. I should be asking about what the Institute's next move would be. I shouldn't be wondering why…

"Why did you do it?"

Silence greeted the question as Nate's face went from tired, to confused frown, to set jaw and solemn-eyed understanding.

That's the wrong question to ask, isn't it? There are more pressing issues.

But I want to- need to know. He betrayed me. It was the ex-soldier who questioned my motives, who dragged up my past, who made me question how I do things.

It was Nate who made me ask myself 'why'.

Then, when I was put in a position where my conflicting ideas of duty and morality came to a head, he turned his back on me. Even if he hadn't organized the ambush himself, he tried to decide for me. He tried to use me.

Why?

"I've been asking myself that since the moment I saw you disappear under the rubble", he replied. The ex-soldier leaned forward and rubbed his face. "I've been blaming myself for it too, not that it means anything to you." He let out a tired laugh. "You know, before you said anything back in the hospital, I thought you were gonna kill me. I was fine with that, hell I think I was relieved about it. I…" He trailed off, staring at the floor between his feet.

He was relieved? There were so many possible meanings for that statement, how am I supposed to interpret that?

"What do you mean 'relieved'?"

"It was… strange. Maybe I thought it was finally over, all this", he waved at the decrepit house around us, "would just fade away as you sent me into whatever afterlife might exist. If one exists. I know I was relieved you were still alive, that you'd be able to deal with all the shit that's going on instead of me." Another tired smile slipped across his face. "I was relieved my mistake didn't get you killed." Nate finally looked up to meet my gaze. "I've made enough bad decisions that cost other people, I didn't need you to get caught in them too."

I'm not very good when it comes to reading people's emotions, in fact I'm awful at it, but the ex-soldier's answer seemed… strained. Like it was something he very much wanted to say, and didn't want to admit.

The strangest thing about this is, even though I was looking for it, I couldn't find the anger I know should be there. Nate almost got me killed. Worse than that, were the circumstances around it. I should be angry at him, I should be more ready to make good on my threat from the hospital.

But it wasn't there. Shooting the man was the furthest thing from my mind. Right now, Nate's eyes almost looked the same as Kellogg's did right before I killed him. He was tired- exhausted. Not just physically. Mentally.

My mind flashed back to his reaction to finding out Shaun wasn't a baby or a 10-year-old kid, but a 60-year-old man. The moment he revealed he was dying.

The moment I brought Nora's body back.

He'd staked his entire continued existence on finding and saving Shaun from the Institute. Not only had that failed, but we found out it was an impossibility in the first place. He never had a chance.

It's something I'm well acquainted with.

Staring down at the haggard-looking man, I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't be. What was sitting in front of me resembled a husk more than what I found on the hill above us a few months ago.

"Don't look at me like that", the ex-soldier said, shoving the silence that had settled over the living room away. "It makes me feel like you're pitying me more than working out how you want to kill me. I think I'd prefer you wanting to kill me."

"How am I looking at you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I'm just getting the feeling you feel bad for me or something."

Whatever that looks like through an opaque visor.

"You look like shit."

Nate huffed. "I feel worse than I look." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "I don't know, I'm trying to figure all this out. Before, I kept going because I had Nora, then I had Shaun. Nora got taken from me so Shaun kept me going. I'm SOL on that too now. I didn't know what I was doing the month you were MIA. Since you came back on the scene, I focused on figuring out how to… I don't know, reconnect maybe. But now we've done that", he shrugged again, "what's next?"

It was my turn to hesitate. What next? There are too many things to do. How could he be asking 'what's next'?

Maybe he means something else.

"What do you mean 'what's next'?"

"I mean…" he frowned. "Huh, I guess it makes sense why that wouldn't make sense to you. I'm not asking 'what's next' in the sense I don't know what to do, I mean I don't know why I'd do it."

I blinked. Why he'd do it?

"Didn't you say you're trying to do the right thing?"

Nate nodded. "Yeah, I did it's just…" The ex-soldier looked at Danse who had remained silent, observing. "At a point, 'doing the right thing' doesn't have the same ring anymore."

What does he mean 'it doesn't have the same ring'? Doing the right thing is doing the right thing. He's the one who put that idea in my head. Even if, when I decided to do the right thing, he tried to do the opposite.

Maybe he's saying that doesn't mean the same thing to him. How do I know what 'the right thing' is?

How- I blinked again as the question lingered in my head.

How do I know I made the right decision at the Railroad, that I did the right thing? That I'm doing the right thing now?

Back at the church… I can at least answer that one: killing the Railroad would have hurt Cass and Tommy.

So if those two hadn't been there, or I didn't know them, would wiping out the Railroad have been the right thing to do?

… No. It wouldn't have been; they're trying to help other people, specifically Synths. I don't think they've been doing the best they could, but at least they were doing something. Siding with the Institute for the sake of getting back to the UNSC, while in line with my duty, would have been the wrong decision. The Institute aren't the 'good guys' in this situation.

Who is?

It isn't the Brotherhood. Just like the Institute, they use logic that's too similar to some of the Fundies I've dealt with. And the Covenant. A lot of other people, like Diamond City, Goodneighbor, the outlying farms, some of the other settlements in Boston, they're just caught in the crossfire. I'd say the Minutemen and Railroad would be the closest thing I considered to be 'good guys' in this war.

"What's going on in that bucket?"

Nate's voice snapped me back to the outside world. He was still sitting in his chair, staring up at me, a faint frown on his face.

Nate. The man who betrayed me. Someone I should be furious with. Someone I told I'd kill the next time I saw him. I shouldn't be having internal debates over morality, I should be pissed.

But the ex-soldier is the person who started all this. The hospital, I was furious. I wanted to kill him, but reason stayed my hand.

Now that fury is gone, replaced by something else.

What is it? Confusion? Pain?

He said he did this because it was the right thing to do. It's something completely different from his decision to betray me. What's changed?

"How do you know what the right thing to do is?"

The two watched me for several silent seconds. Danse was squinting while Nate chewed on his lower lip. They exchanged a glance.

"That's a good question", the ex-soldier said. "When I was in the military I was told the right thing to do is follow orders. After a while, I decided it was doing whatever I could to make Nora happy. Then it was anything I had to do to keep Shaun safe. Now…" he shrugged. "I guess it's helping you."

"Why?" I asked, head cocked.

"Because you're out here trying to help people." Nate met Danse's gaze. "Seems like a good enough reason for me."

Danse didn't look convinced but, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded.

Does 'helping people' constitute doing the right thing?

"What if you help the wrong people?"

"You had the balls to turn your back on the Institute when I didn't. I'd say that's a pretty good start." He smiled again. "You might be overthinking this. From what I've seen, you have a good sense for who's worth helping. You should listen to it."

A good sense for who's worth helping? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

My eyes narrowed as a spark of anger finally did flare into life.

And who the hell is Nate to tell me who's worth helping and who isn't? Or more accurately, how I should decide that.

"And your judge of character has been impeccable."

Nate didn't answer, not right away. His expression drifted back to neutral, but there was something new in his eyes.

"Damon, if there's one thing I will defend, it's my judgment of someone's character. Nora was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Cook, my battle buddy, saved my life more times than I can count. He was the best man at my wedding. It was less than a year after we met. Li, Jackson, Jesse, Isaiah, and a bunch of other people you haven't met in the splinter cell, they're good people too. You…" he paused again, gaze searching me for something. "Regardless of what you think, you hauled my ass across this godforsaken wasteland, helped me track down Shaun, and made the right decision when I couldn't. I trust you're trying to do the right thing." The small smile came back. "Even if, sometimes, the way you do it is… questionable."

This didn't feel like an apology. What is he trying to accomplish here?

"The choices I make around those people…" he continued, "I'm not sure I can defend that."

If that isn't an understatement…

There were other, more pressing questions I should have been asking: what are Nate and six inexperienced combatants going to add to this fight? What other intel can he give me about the Institute? Who is this Synth I'm supposed to go after? Why did Li go to him after what happened?

Somehow they all felt… unimportant. They shouldn't have, those are the questions I need to answer to figure out my next move.

But something he said was stuck in my mind.

"Regardless of what you think, you hauled my ass across this godforsaken wasteland, helped me track down Shaun, and made the right decision when I couldn't."

Yes, I did do that. For him. Getting to the Institute was a means to my own end, but dragging him along, retrieving Nora's body, and staying there after figuring out what they are… I did it because I cared about the guy. Because he was my friend.

Then he stabbed me in the back.

Is that why I'm not angry? What he did was more painful than it was infuriating?

When he lashed out at me after I brought Nora's body to the Institute, I wasn't angry, not at first. I was confused.

Nate had done it because he was in pain, but why would he lash out at me.

"You still haven't answered my first question."

The ex-soldier released a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

"I can't give you an answer that would satisfy you. It-"

"Then give me an answer that won't satisfy me."

He blinked and, after a moment, yawned.

"Because I didn't know what to do at the time. The only thing I could think about was being with Shaun for what little time we had left. If I'm being honest, I still think about that almost every moment. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew what I was doing was wrong but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was being with Shaun and doing what he thought was right."

As he finished, silence blanketed the house once again.

That did almost sound like an apology. One that, he's right, didn't satisfy me but in a way made sense. My parents gave everything trying to protect us, it isn't hard to imagine Nate doing the same thing with his son.

And I hated myself for thinking that, for comparing Nate and his cowardice to the sacrifice my parents, and all the others there, made.

I took a deep breath and glanced out the front door. The settlers were still active even though it was well into early morning. That isn't a surprise, they were just hit for the first time. It will take a while for them to settle down. I still don't know how many they- we lost in the fighting. On my way in I saw at least six covered bodies, but I doubt that's the extent of it.

Nate and his people aren't going to do anything, not tonight. My gaze drifted back to the ex-soldier. He was sitting stock still, head back, eyes closed, and hands clasped in front of him. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"You should go back to the bunker", I said, turning to Danse.

The Synth cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We need you alive and healthy. A laser bolt would throw a wrench in that. See what you can get out of the informant."

"You don't want to torture him?" The question didn't sound like as much of a challenge as I expected.

"Information is information", I said with a shrug. "I need time to think."

Understanding drifted across his face and he nodded. "I'll let you and Preston know if I find anything out."

After I returned his nod, the former Paladin marched from the house, leaving me alone with Nate.

His deep, rhythmic breathing meant he was asleep. He must have been as exhausted as he looked.

The right decision would be to stay here and make sure they're watched but, like I said, they won't do anything tonight. I'm the Institute's target, not Sanctuary. The only reason the settlement got caught in the crossfire is that they're associated with me. Seven people aren't going to do much to the settlers, especially with most of them keyed up now.

Time to think…

Stalking from the house into the early morning, I filtered through the bustling settlers until I reached the gate. I don't doubt Preston has patrols walking a perimeter around Sanctuary, it was something we were working on before the attack. They understand the importance of those patrols now. While I'd be more effective, it's probably better I don't interfere with them. The last thing they need right now is me looking over their shoulder.

Instead, I turned right and headed toward the watch position I'd caught that one settler half-asleep at. Two others were there, one I recognized as one of the men I'd talked with after the Brotherhood made their appearance. I didn't know the other.

They turned in unison and almost fell over themselves as I ducked into the room. These people really are wound tight. If the Institute wants a better shot at taking Sanctuary, now would be the time to do it. Now their adrenaline has worn off, they're drowsy and coming down off a combat high. Like any new fighter, they feel like they need to make up for it by staying 'hyper-attentive'. Really all that does is lead to more mistakes. I hope whoever Preston has on patrol is a little more experienced than these two.

"Relax", I said quietly. "I'll take watch."

The settlers exchanged a glance. "We're alright", the one I recognized responded, the defensiveness in his voice painfully obvious.

I shook my head. "No, you aren't. You're wired and would be a liability in another fight. Go sleep."

There was a moment of silence as the two of them hesitated again. Since they're minutemen now, does that mean I can order them to leave?

"Alright", the other, a shorter, dark-skinned man with close-cropped brown hair and a clean-shaven face, said with a shuddering nod.

"Louis-"

"C'mon man, he's got this. If he says we need sleep, let's get some sleep."

The other man looked like he wanted to argue but he didn't. Instead, he nodded as if he was afraid the motion would take his head off, then followed Louis past me. They each offered a small smile as they did.

What was that about? Listened to what I said just because I said it?

They trust me.

I glanced back at the now empty door.

They trust me.

A/N: So… Nate's back. This was an interesting scene for me to write. The first few plans I had for it weren't this. It was a lot calmer than I originally thought it would be. That was (mostly) based on the evolution of Damon's character, I think it would have been odd for him to lose his shit here. It's also an exploration of some things a lot of the characters have been discussing for a while now. That discussion is sort of a reflection of my own rationalization. The difference is it's being told through different lenses. No rambling this time either. I won't be posting next Friday because I'll be posting next Thursday instead. It is, incredibly, this story's second anniversary. Mind blowing. That's all for this week, I'll see everyone next time!

Next chapter: 9/29, Decisions Have Consequences