A/N: Well hello there! Remember last time when I said I hoped the next time I saw you, there wouldn't be snow? Well… THERE'S STILL SNOW! Oh well… Here we are with another part in the insane journey this has become. I don't have much to say prior to getting started with the story, but I think you'll find this chapter is important during coming events. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 66: Simple, Not Easy

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

Repeat.

The ex-soldier was sitting in a well-padded living room chair. It was in the apartment's front room, turned toward the door. Like the chair, most of the apartment and its furniture were relatively intact. There had, obviously, been some decay from the 200 years of disuse. That was largely limited to cosmetic damage; peeling walls, ruined floors, and faded, fraying fabric.

It was dark too. What light did seep in came through the windows from the full moon outside. Nate was tempted to dig around for more chemical lights. There was no guarantee Damon stashed more here but the place had damn near everything else. The radiation drugs, 'Radaway', were what he'd been most interested in. It was by no means the extent of the medication. MedX injectors, alcohol, antiseptic, gauze, bandages, a full trauma kit, and even a few Stimpaks. That was without considering the food, clean water, ammunition, and two HK-33 assault rifles.

The apartment was stocked with enough supplies to operate for several weeks. Never let it be said Damon didn't prepare.

Unfortunately, the extensive stash wasn't what occupied the ex-soldier's mind. Flashes. Images of the ambush. Watching his brothers and sisters killed in that square. Fighting through a bombed-out segment of a city, turning a corner just in time to catch a round to the chest and another to the side of his helmet. Lying on the ground, struggling to breathe through what turned out to be two cracked ribs.

Another one he was well-acquainted with.

Getting to the roof.

Setting up with Cook and Jericho for overwatch

Waiting.

Taking fire.

The RPG.

Someone slamming into Nate.

Him careening away from the roof's edge.

The RPG blowing a chunk of the roof into a massive cloud of dust.

The overpressure knocking the wind out of the ex-soldier.

Cook.

His best friend lying a few feet to the right of the impact.

The large, dark-skinned man's leg missing below the knee.

There was blood everywhere.

Tourniquetting his leg.

Helping load him into the Vertibird.

Holding his clenched hand, glove soaked in Cook's blood as he faded in and out of consciousness.

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

Repeat.

The ex-soldier could feel himself on the edge, just holding onto his composure. His stomach was roiling, his arms and legs were trembling, and, if he hadn't been forcing himself to breathe slowly, it would be out of control.

He'd been able to keep the panic away, there were other things to focus on, but now it was climbing up his throat.

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

Repeat.

Am I… am I always going to be like this?

Damon had said something about PTSD. It wasn't a surprise the SPARTAN would have it after what happened to him. He didn't seem to suffer from these episodes.

No, just sudden bursts of anger.

But he hadn't had any of those in a while.

He still isn't a very good measuring stick. The guy doesn't have a very healthy relationship with emotions.

That was true…

Nate almost jumped out of his chair as the floorboard creaked to his left. The ex-soldier's head snapped toward the noise, his rifle-

It was just Brenda.

The gloom made her difficult to see and, while he couldn't make her expression out, something in the way she held herself said something was wrong.

After another deep breath to calm his now racing heart, Nate relaxed back into the chair. "What's up?"

The young woman didn't respond. He could feel her eyes on him, just able to make out her jaw working up and down, but nothing came out.

Concern started creeping past the encroaching panic.

"Brenda?" he asked, climbing to his unsteady feet. "Talk to me."

"...I- I…" she stammered. "I- just-" It wasn't until then he noticed she was trembling. Her hands were shaking hard enough he was afraid she might hurt herself.

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

The ex-soldier glanced around the room. There were several other pieces of furniture, including a couch opposite his chair. "Come on", he motioned toward the couch, "sit down." He walked toward her, his own legs feeling like jelly. If she collapsed, he probably wouldn't be able to support her.

It didn't matter. Something was up and she wanted help with it. Maybe.

When he touched her arm, the young woman flinched.

"So- sorry", Nate said, pulling his hand back.

Brenda took a deep, shaking breath. "No. I- it's, I don't-" she cut herself off with a frustrated grunt.

As if a switch had been flipped, she started marching toward the couch. When she reached it, the woman dropped into the sofa like her legs had disappeared. Some of the light spilling through the windows fell across her face. Her eyes were just as wide as the ex-soldier imagined with a mouth that was twisted into an almost painful-looking grimace.

Okay… Nate pulled the front of his chair around to face her and sat. "You doing okay?"

"No."

No duh she isn't doing okay. That had been a stupid question.

"I'm- uh-" he held up a trembling hand, "you aren't the only one. We're in this boat together."

"Great. Th- that just means we're easier targets." The ghost of a smile flashed across her face.

Nate nodded. "True." He paused. Did she want to talk? Is that why she came out of the back room? "Do you- do you want to talk?"

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

She blinked, long and slow, before nodding. "I… please don't laugh."

Laugh? The ex-soldier's eyebrows went up. "I don't think I can right now."

After another brief pause, Brenda grunted. "That was the first time I've ever killed someone. A human, I mean."

The first thing that crossed Nate's mind was surprise. Maybe it was… not his more virtuous thought, but he was surprised someone got to the age Brenda was, as traveled as she was, without killing someone. In the hellhole his hometown had become, anyway. The second was sadness. It tied into the surprise, he supposed. It was sad she'd be embarrassed at never having killed someone before.

"Why would you be embarrassed about that?"

"Well- I- it's just", she stammered before cutting herself off again. "Everyone else seems so experienced. You were in the army back before the bombs dropped. And Damon's… well… he's Damon."

How Brenda finished that sentence, it was almost like she spat the SPARTAN's name. What was going on there?

One problem at a time.

"I'm not saying this to placate you. You handled yourself fantastically out there, Brenda. For someone as young as you, I couldn't have asked for any more." He offered her a shaky smile. "Neither could Damon."

"Damon", she whispered. The young woman looked down at her hands. They were clasped in her lap now, still trembling. "How can he do it?" She met Nate's gaze again. "It felt like I was lifting the world when I pulled that trigger. When I saw the guy fall over, I thought I was going to puke. But- but I couldn't keep watching him- him beat you. How can Damon be so… callous about doing something like that? About killing people."

A question Nate had asked himself a hundred times over. Unfortunately, it was one he asked more out of frustration than actual curiosity.

He already knew the answer. But first…

"You did the-" the ex-soldier bit the end of the sentence off. The last thing she needed to hear was 'you did the right thing'. Probably. He didn't know. How had Nate reacted when he killed his first person? It was a male insurgent. He was firing on his fire team's position from the balcony of an apartment. He remembered drawing the man's head into the center of his scope…

And then the mess on the window behind him.

And then they moved on. He didn't have time to process it. They were still in the middle of a firefight. It was him or them and Nate chose himself and his fire team over the other guy.

It was a decision he'd continue to make for almost 2 decades.

"I appreciated the help."

Brenda let go of another trembling breath. "Yeah but- that was a person. Even if it was just a Raider. I can't help imagining that was Corey. Or Sturges. Or Preston. Or Vinnie. Or Brett. Or-"

"I know." Nate didn't, but he could see where she was going. It wasn't anywhere good. "But it wasn't them."

"How do you do it? You aren't Damon but- but you don't seem bothered by the people you've killed."

Not bothered?

Deep breath in.

Hold four count.

Deep breath out.

Hold four count.

The ex-soldier held up a shaking hand again. "That hit me pretty hard too."

"Sorry", the young woman shook her head, "I didn't- I wasn't trying to say you don't care."

Nate lowered his hand back to his lap and exhaled slowly. "No, you aren't wrong. Not completely. I spent a lot of time fighting. If you don't learn to cope with it, you don't last long." His mind pulled him back into the multitude of battlefields he'd been on. "Somehow, I made it almost 17 years."

Silence settled over the dusty, run-down apartment. Outside, they could still hear the pounding of Vertibird rotors. They were far to the south, well away from the safe house.

"How many people did you kill?" Brenda blurted. Her eyes, somehow, grew wider and she clapped a hand over her mouth so quickly it made a slapping sound. "Oh my god, Nate. I'm so sorry. That wasn't-"

"No, you're fine", the ex-soldier waved the concern away with a still-shaking hand. "You aren't the first person to ask."

During his military career? 38. Almost two for every year he served. Most of them were either in the first two years or the last five. He remembered every trigger pull. Except for three. Those weren't ones he shot. He killed those ones hand to hand.

There were times, usually when younger soldiers found out about it, they'd fawn over him.

Those were the only times he ever thought about inflicting harm on one of his fellow soldiers. They were dumbass kids who'd never seen a battlefield and they wanted to congratulate him. Brenda was right, it wasn't something to be celebrated. Yes, during the fighting they were the people on the other end of his gun. You spend so much time dehumanizing your enemy, when you're fighting them they're anything but human. They're whatever you need them to be to get home.

A lot of those kids learned that.

Brenda wasn't like that. She clearly appreciated what asking that question meant. Why it wasn't okay to ask.

"Enough I had to do a lot of soul-searching after I got out. Nora- my wife- she helped. A lot." He smiled sadly. "My situation was a little… different. I had that realization before I left. Working through it was the hard part."

His companion shifted uncomfortably. "Do you… mind if I ask a question?"

Nate nodded. "Go ahead."

She hesitated again, uncertainty plain on her face. "How did it feel?" Brenda asked after several seconds' silence.

"When I killed people? Or when I was coming to terms with it?"

"... Both?"

The ex-soldier took a deep breath. It was a good question, one he'd had plenty of time to consider.

"When I did it, I didn't think much about it. After I figured it out…" how had he felt? "You know… it wasn't the people I'd killed- well, I should say it wasn't just the people I killed. It's that I spent so long not caring. Then, when I realized those people were… they were people too, it wasn't the person I'd just killed that hit me, it was the ones before, when I didn't care, that hit me the hardest."

Nate fell quiet, thinking through the hours, days, weeks, and months of working with VA counselors, Nora, Cook, and Miranda. How had he felt when it was done?

… No, done wasn't the right word. Coping with it was never done.

But he had made his peace with it.

"After I worked through what I'd done, it was freeing." The ex-soldier noticed his hands weren't trembling anymore.

"Don't get me wrong, I did things in the Army I'll… You're desensitized to a lot. You do things you'd never dream of in any other circumstance. I couldn't let that destroy the rest of my life. If there is a god, I'll answer to them for what I've done. Until then… in Nora's words, I'll 'do the best I can'." Nate shrugged. "It was working before all this happened."

"I- I understand if you don't want to talk about it but…" she trailed off. "Do you ever wish you hadn't?"

"Killed anyone?"

The young woman nodded.

"That's… a complicated question." Nate took a deep breath. How would he even characterize it? During his early years… that was a fog he barely understood and he was the one who lived in it. Not like he isn't responsible for what he did during the first few years in the military, but he did what he did to stay alive. That's what he told himself at the time. The ex-soldier knew there were other options; he didn't have to be infantry.

But if he hadn't done it, someone else would have. Or his people might have ended up dead.

As far as whether he wished he'd never killed anyone…

"A lot of stuff happened that led to me enlisting. Those same things are what pushed me toward infantry. I don't know what my life would look like if I hadn't. It's a question I've thought a lot about. The best answer I have is I don't think I have a right to wish that. Not anymore." He offered her a sad smile. "It isn't a great one, but when you spend most of your life fighting, it gets hard to separate yourself from it."

"I see." Brenda nodded slowly. Her eyes were unfocused again. She was thinking about something else. "So… can I ask you something else, then? It isn't about you."

… Oh. Is that where she's going? "Go ahead."

"How does Damon cope with it? Do you think he thinks the same way?"

Nate grunted. Relatively speaking, he did nothing compared to the supersoldier. It wasn't a topic the ex-soldier wanted to discuss, it brought a lot of complicated emotions with it. Plus, it-

"Sorry", the young woman said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "I know the two of you aren't happy with each other right now. I- I know you think Cass and me don't think about what he does. It's why you've been so careful about what you say with us around. But we do. All the time." She met his gaze. "I guess I just didn't appreciate it." She turned her palms up and looked down at her still trembling hands. "Killing people- it feels awful."

The ex-soldier nodded solemnly. "Believe me, I know." So was she saying the two of them knew what he did but didn't understand what that meant? "How much do you know?"

"Oh, I've heard plenty. I've heard about everything you talked about at Diamond City. I've heard about when he showed up in Concord. When he protected Sanctuary from the Raiders attack. Him going to that base up north…" she shrugged. "I know he's killed a lot of people. I've never seen him upset about it." Brenda smiled at him. "Not like you are now. I don't understand how he can do it. That just seems so… inhuman."

Nate returned her smile but it was, again, tinged with sadness. "There's nothing inhuman about it." Was she trying to get a read on Nate's opinion of his own history? So she could use that about Damon?

Ever the tactician, I guess.

"Take what I said about my desensitization and multiply it by 10. He was…" Should the ex-soldier say anything about the SPARTAN's past?

To hell with him. If he gets mad about it, that's his problem. Brenda deserves to know what she's traipsing across the Commonwealth with.

"His home was attacked when he was a kid. Lost everyone. He was conscri- he volunteered to join the military, a supersoldier program. They raised him to be what he is." The ex-soldier took another slow, deep breath. "The guy was conditioned to think of human life only as important as what it means to his mission. If he has to kill someone to accomplish an objective, he'll do it. It's just an obstacle. I gotta admit, it's a great way to make a special operations fighter. Especially if you need them to do some bad shit."

Brenda didn't respond, not immediately. Her face was a combination of emotions: confusion, surprise, sadness, disgust. And a modicum of understanding.

There were a thousand things Nate could have said to break the silence, but none of them felt right. Or necessary. Whatever he said wouldn't change the reality he'd told her about Damon. Nothing he said would make it easier to hear.

But it, hopefully, put things into perspective for her.

"Ah", Brenda replied. "Is that why he's so bad at everything else?"

It was an attempt at humor, something to lighten the 1000-pound weight Nate had just dropped in the middle of the room.

"Probably."

She frowned. "So… where did all of this happen? I mean- I've never seen anything like that armor he wears."

"An alternate universe, apparently." When the young woman's face screwed into a grimace he held his hands up as if to say 'don't ask me'. "That's what he told me. Sturges knows more."

"Okay…" she said slowly. "I'll assume you aren't bullshitting me… I don't know if I buy all of that. He cares about people."

The ex-soldier's sad smile returned. "Yes and no."

"Okay, he cares about some people."

Nate nodded. "You heard our conversation this morning."

"Yes", the young woman nodded. "It sounds like you have some issues with him."

"Oh yeah?" Nate cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah. After today…" she trailed off, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "After today, I'm not sure I can blame you for that. Even knowing what you said… it doesn't feel like it excuses him. I don't get how he can care about some people, but kill others so… easily."

Nate would be lying if he said he didn't find some comfort in Brenda taking issue with the SPARTAN.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you knew all this and did."

The young woman's gaze shot back to him, eyes narrowed. "I'm not taking sides here. Damon's still my friend."

"And I'm not asking you to", Nate replied. "He's my friend too." He took another deep breath. "I don't have an answer. Not for sure. Damon- I don't think he's able to draw a connection between the people he cares about and the people he doesn't." Nate shrugged. "It isn't something I'm good at figuring out."

She nodded and climbed, shakily, to her feet. "I just… need some time to think."

"Take all the time you need."

The young woman trudged back into the side room.

Nate stood and crept to the living room's window. He stayed far enough back to avoid the moonlight streaming through. "We've got a lot of it…"

While he couldn't see the Vertibirds anymore, he didn't doubt they were still out there, searching for the SPARTAN. Hopefully they didn't know they were looking for him.

"I don't understand how he can do it. That just seems so… inhuman."

That echoed some of his own thoughts about Damon.

And that's when his damnable empathy joined the party. The supersoldier, in most circumstances, would be someone Nate despised. If you knew him in passing, he'd come across as callous, arrogant, dispassionate, and apathetic. It's how the ex-soldier felt about him when they first met.

He wasn't that though. Nate might argue he's the opposite. Damon's a kid who never had the chance to develop social skills or empathy. Now he's going through a truncated version of that and is struggling with it.

Plus, the infantryman knew how easy it was to put those things away when you didn't want to deal with them.

It would be easy for him to write Damon off if the SPARTAN didn't care the way he does. How he interacted with the Minutemen, Goodneighbor, and especially Cass and Brenda left little room to doubt he does care. A lot. He just doesn't know how to do it well.

Nate returned to the chair, shaking his head. If Damon does have that moment, where he realizes what he's done, how will it hit him? For everything the supersoldier had been through, and everything he'd done, there's a lot of empathy beneath all the damage. That empathy could make things difficult if he comes to the realization the same way Nate did.

That's a question I don't think anyone can answer, including him. Especially him.

The ex-soldier settled in for the first watch. Brenda was still shaken up, more than Nate, anyway. As usual, the interminable wait of staying on watch was arduous and boring. There was no telling when Damon would show up, and no telling when they'd be leaving. Neither of those things helped.

Another concern was the creeping dread of radiation sickness. They'd been in the river for a minute or two, and in the marsh for another 10. That's a long time to be exposed to radiation. The RadX would help, but still… he wasn't sure it would be perfect.

On top of that, the long, silent wait gave him too much time to think about his shots. The ex-soldier ran the few seconds back through his head time and again. An entire day's preparation leading up to five seconds of action.

And he didn't know if it worked.

Even then, several hours later, Nate could feel the MK18's trigger against his finger. He felt the wall, felt the break, felt the rifle kick against his shoulder, and heard the deafening report. Part of him wished he could have adjusted the scope, but Damon's reasoning made sense. Besides, as long as his mark was right that wouldn't matter.

The worst part about it was he didn't know if his rounds hit their mark. He wouldn't know until the SPARTAN got there.

That made waiting for him even worse.

Without knowing how much battery the radio Damon had stolen had left, the ex-soldier didn't keep it on throughout the night. He checked it a dozen times only to hear silence. No doubt they found their people had their comms taken and switched channels. Maybe even communication protocols.

Whatever the reason, it was a brick.

As night ticked over into early morning, rustling from the side room pulled Nate out of his watch-bored stupor. A minute later, Brenda walked out, yawning. She seemed better, more relaxed.

Maybe 'relaxed' isn't the right word. But it didn't look like she was on the edge of losing her mind anymore.

"Were you able to get some sleep?"

"Yeah", the young woman said, rubbing at her eyes.

"Did our talk help?"

"I… think so."

Nate nodded. "It's difficult to process on your own…"

He left the invitation open-ended but the young woman shrugged. "I still need more time to think."

"Fair enough." He stood and yawned, deep. The ex-soldier's was, unfortunately, for the opposite reason. "Let me know if we start getting shot at."

"The gunshots will probably do that", she muttered as he strode toward the side room.

"I know, I was joking…" Nate paused at the door's threshold and glanced back at his companion. She was already watching him, eyebrow cocked and the ghost of a smile on her face. "I'm going to sleep."

With that, he left the living room and found himself in a bedroom. The bed itself aged worse than any of the other furniture, its metal frame rusted into nothing and the mattress not far behind. He wouldn't be using that to sleep. That was fine, it wasn't like he'd expected four-star accommodations. They were in a safe house in the middle of the post-apocalyptic world. It isn't like they had the resources to build and staff a bunch of well-maintained ones like the Institute.

There were definitely things he missed about being with them…

Nothing he could do about it now. The ex-soldier used his satchel as a pillow and tucked himself into the corner opposite the door. Comfort wasn't on the cards, but that wasn't new.

X

Nate didn't sleep soundly. That wasn't a surprise considering he had ammunition, medication, food, and a change of clothes as a pillow. It didn't help they were on the run from the Brotherhood and, potentially, the Raiders now. He couldn't help but wonder what became of that kid. He'd been so young. To be a Raider at that age… either his parents were Raiders too, he ran away to join the Raiders, or they were dead and no one else took him in.

It would have been so easy for Cass to have done the same thing. Where would she be if she had? Probably an addict. Or dead. Whatever she'd be, it wasn't the person Nate knew.

At least it was beginning to grow light outside. The dull gray of an overcast morning was streaming through the windows.

When the ex-soldier left the side room, Brenda was sitting in the large chair he'd spun toward the door. The woman's shoulders were slumped and her eyes were red and tired. He offered to take watch so she could sleep, but she shook her head.

"I don't need any more nightmares", she said.

That made sense.

The two of them ate and… waited.

There wasn't much else to do. Damon still wasn't back and, while the ex-soldier was relatively confident in his ability to navigate the city, it would be better to wait for him than go out on their own.

But then there was the big issue: Damon still wasn't back.

It had been the better part of nine hours since they separated. Getting from the department store to the safe house, with the Raider detour, only took them two hours. The SPARTAN, even after leading the Brotherhood away, probably could have beaten them there. But he hadn't. And that was seven hours ago.

So where was he?

Nate wasn't the only one thinking about it.

"Where is he?" she muttered. The young woman had been nervous since the night before. Twitchy. Not that it was unusual, especially if that was the fight time she'd ever taken a life.

She turned to the ex-soldier. "Why would he take so long to get here?"

"No clue", Nate shrugged. "I know it isn't comforting, but a million different things can happen in the field. Like you found. I wouldn't even be able to begin to guess what he got up to last night."

"We need to get back. We need to make sure Goodneighbor's okay. We need to make sure Cass is okay."

"Are you worried the Brotherhood knows it was us?" the infantryman asked.

"Of course I am!" Brenda paused and took a deep breath. "Sorry- I guess I'm still shaken up." She offered him a smile. "Are all Damon's plans this nerve-wracking?"

The attempted levity was as sickly as her smile. Still, she was trying.

"Every time."

Brenda cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously."

Oh yeah.

The Triggermen… was closer to morbid shock.

Kellogg. He still wasn't sure how to feel about the SPARTAN killing him.

… Goodneighbor.

The Glowing Sea.

The Deathclaws.

Their ambush on those Supermutants. That was the first time he had an episode.

The Brotherhood's ambush on them.

The Railroad.

Just about everything that's happened on this little escapade.

"Like you said before, he does things us mortals won't understand." He said that in jest, of course. It certainly seemed, at times, Damon was. But unlike the gods of old, the kid's motivations and perspectives were anything but unfathomable.

She huffed. "It's good to know this isn't out of the ordinary." Her voice was steadier. "How are you holding up."

"After the last week and a terrible night's sleep? Absolutely fantastic."

This time, the young woman's smile reached her eyes. "You and me both."

They lapsed back into silence, this one more companionable than the uncomfortable quiet that had been blanketing the apartment.

All things considered, the ex-soldier was doing alright. Yes, he was concerned the Brotherhood had found them out. He was concerned they might be at Goodneighbor or Sanctuary. He was concerned Cass might be in danger. As pointless as it was, he was concerned Damon might be in danger.

As much as the comment was said in jest, Nate was well aware the supersoldier was a hard person to kill. Hell, he'd been ambushed by Coursers with gauss rifles, had a building dropped on him, and was back at it in no time. If the guy was given time to prepare, the ex-soldier still wasn't quite sure how he'd go about beating Damon. He had ideas, sure, but nothing he was certain would work.

Despite that, Nate was painfully aware how quickly, and easily, the flow of a fight can change. How one little mistake can ruin the whole damn thing.

And, unfortunately, there wasn't much else to think about besides their current predicament. Dez, Li, and Preston would be handling logistics. Same with planning future operations. They were out there to buy the Minutemen time and space. Nate knew from experience the Railroad could do a lot without much of it. Considering Damon's gravitational pull, they were giving them a lot more than they were used to.

The Institute…

What were they up to? It'd been a little more than a week since their attempt to kill Damon and the attack on Sanctuary. That's a lot of downtime.

Another surprise attack? Probably.

"Hey, Nate?" Brenda asked.

The ex-soldier turned to his companion. "What's up?"

"How long do you think we should wait?"

"Tomorrow morning." Nate shrugged. "If he isn't here, that means something went very wrong."

She frowned. "... And what do we do if that's the case?"

"Keep as small a footprint as possible until we figure out what's going on. First place they'd expect us to go is Goodneighbor, second is Sanctuary."

"So where should we go instead?"

Nate scratched the back of his head. "Well… I'd start with Diamond City. They wouldn't expect us to go there and, if the Brotherhood decided to start the festivities, Fenway will be swarming with them."

"Huh", Brenda muttered, "not what I'd think but… if you're sure."

That's just the thing, he wasn't sure. Starting a war like this would be bad. It was the risk they decided to take. The ex-soldier still agreed, the chance of killing Maxson was worth it, but it would still be a mess. It seemed like the right decision though; there were plenty of places to scope the settlement out from without being seen and it should be apparent if things went wrong.

"Let's worry about that if Damon doesn't come back. He's-"

A gentle knock on the door prompted a jump from both of them. Nate's hands went to his rifle and he was aiming at the door. Brenda, for her part, looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

"We're clear", a muffled voice came from the other side. It was very clearly Damon's.

"About damn time", the ex-soldier breathed. He shot a quick smile at Brenda. "Speak of the devil…"

And this was one of the few occasions Nate doubted the devil would be displeased with the comparison.

"Come on in", he said, this time louder.

The ex-soldier lowered his rifle as the door swung open. Damon's armored form stepped through and he pushed it shut behind him. Nate was relieved the SPARTAN had finally arrived. At the same time, his apprehension launched into the stratosphere. Did the Brotherhood know who took a shot at their leader? Did the attempt work?

Did Nate hit his target?

"Are either of you injured?" the supersoldier asked as he looked between the two of them.

Us? Injured? "Neither of us just spent 12 hours leading the Brotherhood on a wild goose chase."

"A what?"

The ex-soldier blinked. "A wild… goose chase? It's- it's when you-" Nate cut himself off with a grunt. "Don't worry about it. We're fine." He glanced at Brenda. She was stiff and her face had gone rigidly neutral. "Physically."

"Physically?" Damon followed his gaze to the young woman. "What do you mean?" There was a hint of concern in his normally monotone voice.

Brenda didn't respond. She continued glaring at the armored titan in stilted silence. Nate should have guessed something like this might happen. Brenda had been… okay since their conversation the night before. The same way, after Nate had learned Damon was still alive, he was excited, when he saw the SPARTAN again, the animosity he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto reared its head.

"Brenda?" the SPARTAN asked, this time the concern had grown.

"I'm glad your back", she bit out before dropping back into her chair. The young woman twisted it to face the window.

"Brenda?" he repeated and confusion joined the party.

A stilted quiet filled the apartment as the SPARTAN stared at the young woman. He was clearly waiting for an explanation.

It took Nate all of two seconds to figure out that wasn't going to happen.

After the silence passed the 15-second mark, Damon's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He turned at Nate, helmet cocked to the side. The armored titan looked… lost. A part of the ex-soldier, an admittedly large part, felt bad for the guy. The expression, even if it was devoid of a face, conveyed so much confusion it was almost amusing.

He's learning about emotions alright…

It occurred to Nate that might have been the first time Nate had seen the SPARTAN resemble his age. At that moment, he didn't look like a giant armored killing machine, he looked like a confused kid who just had a friend stop talking to him.

Which is exactly what happened.

The scene brought back another unpleasant memory: when he'd brought Nora's body to the Institute. When Nate lashed out at him, the SPARTAN had the same sort of confused body language. It's amazing how expressive someone's body language can be when they aren't used to having to control it.

Nate felt a pang of guilt. At the same time, the display was so strange. The emotions were so incongruous with everything else Damon did. But the ex-soldier understood.

That being said, this was Brenda's conversation to have with the supersoldier, not his. "It was a rough night. We ran into trouble on the way up here."

Damon glanced at Brenda. She was still staring at the window. Her hands were clasped around the chair's arms but the ex-soldier noticed a tremble in her shoulders. When the armored man turned back to Nate, the question was so obvious he had to stop himself from laughing.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"She'll tell you about it when she's ready." He cast one more glance at the young woman before continuing. "What about the Brotherhood?" The ex-soldier tried to push the concern out of his own voice. Brenda would be fine, she was resilient.

The SPARTAN wasn't satisfied with that answer. "No", he said, voice sharpening, "what the hell happened?"

"Damon, I'm telling you as a friend, leave it alone."

"A friend?" Damon snapped.

Okay… that wasn't the right thing to say.

No, the hell with that. Damon didn't get to run every conversation just because he's Damon.

"Yes. You're only gonna make things worse if you push. I've gone through this before."

"Did you-" the SPARTAN started.

No you don't. "No. I didn't do anything. I'm trying to help you. So", Nate paused to take a breath, "what happened with the Brotherhood?"

His friend's hands clenched and relaxed several times as he stole another glance at Brenda. Just like the question earlier, his distress couldn't have been clearer if he'd been wearing a sandwich board.

"Fine", Damon relented. His voice wasn't angry or frustrated. He sounded confused. "They never made me. I took position near Goodneighbor to make sure they didn't go there."

A pang of relief flashed through the ex-soldier's chest. "Hearts and minds… What about Maxson?"

Nate would be lying if he said he wasn't just as interested in his own shots as he was whether Damon had actually killed him. How did he ask about that?

"Unknown." The supersoldier's helmet twitched again, casting another quick look at Brenda. "I couldn't confirm a hit once I fired. There was too much movement."

"Did all four connect?"

"Negative. Your second round missed."

On one hand, the ex-soldier was elated he'd connected with the target at well over a mile shooting a rifle he'd never fired before. On the other… his ego wanted to hit both. But there were more important things than his pride.

"Could you tell if either of your rounds penetrated?"

Damon hesitated an instant before shaking his head. "Too far away."

Well… while Nate hoped they'd get a confirmed kill, he couldn't be too disappointed. Not considering the tools they had.

"Is there anything else you ran into along the way? If not, we need to collect Cass and Dogmeat and get out of town. The Brotherhood is going to be everywhere."

"No… I-" Nate watched as the SPARTAN stopped himself from looking at Brenda again. Despite the situation, he had to suppress a smile. "We're good."

It wasn't just amusement. It was, in part, relief. Damon's discomfort with Brenda's sudden change in demeanor was confirmation of Nate's suspicions: the armored titan did care. A lot.

"Great", the ex-soldier said. "Do you need some time to rest?" Damon shook his head slowly. "Give us a few minutes and we'll be ready to go."

"Okay…". The supersoldier shifted. "I'll… make sure our exit's still clear."

With that, Damon turned and marched to the door. He didn't look back as he swung it open and ducked through. Nate didn't remember ever hearing the SPARTAN sound so… unsure of himself.

As soon as he was gone, Brenda let out a long, shaky breath.

"I- I don't know what that was", she said slowly. "It just- seeing him made me think about that Raider again. About the kid we left out there. It felt like I was pulling the trigger again."

Nate shook his head. "You don't need to explain anything to me."

"I know." The brown-haired woman turned to him. "But I feel bad. Damon didn't deserve that. If what you said about him is true… as much as I hate to say it, he doesn't know better. Would he even understand why I'm upset?"

"I can't say. I've had that conversation with him before, but that was a while ago."

"Are you saying you think I should?" she asked.

Was he saying that? He wanted to know as much as anyone else but… was it fair to ask anyone else to dive into the mess that is Damon's head?

Is it fair to assume I'm the only one who can do that successfully?

Nate shrugged. "I wouldn't recommend anyone make that journey, but you're just as capable of doing it as anyone else. He likes you, which helps."

"Did it help you? Knowing the people you talked with when you were figuring your… past out?"

"Yeah", the ex-soldier said. "And it helped I went through a lot of it with those people." He remembered what he said to his people. No… not his people, the people who came with him from the Institute. "What Damon does-" Nate cut himself off. It wasn't just Damon. While he was pretty sure the SPARTAN had killed more people in his first week in this world than Nate had during his career, he still had a high body count.

"What people who spend their lives fighting do… I don't think it's something everyone can accept." This was something he was painfully familiar with. While that wasn't exactly what the psychiatrist he'd seen during his discharge had said, it was close enough. "Don't feel like you have to."

Brenda stood. "I want to." She turned to him. "Like I said, Damon's my friend. It might sound childish but it's the truth. We wouldn't be here without him."

A lot of other people would be though. Whether that was for better or worse… he could give the SPARTAN that much credit. He usually directed his violence toward people who deserved it.

Usually.

Nate offered her a smile. "He'd be happy to hear that. You sure as hell just made him more uncomfortable than I've ever seen him."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder." The young woman returned his smile as she spoke.

"Come on." The ex-soldier waved toward the door. "Let's go make sure he hasn't run off somewhere."

The two of them left the apartment and trudged through the crumbling halls toward the entrance. Damon was standing outside, watching the street to the south. When they emerged, he shot the infantryman a glance. His gaze lingered on Brenda for a few seconds before he began marching west.

Brenda looked at Nate. She was biting her lower lip. The ex-soldier gave her a reassuring nod and she took a deep breath. They'd be alright. As long as they stayed near Damon they'd probably be safe. And as long as the SPARTAN continued growing the way he was, Nate was sure they'd find some form of common ground. It wouldn't be fast. It wouldn't be easy.

The two mortals turned in unison and followed after their giant armored friend.

A/N: A short chapter, yes, but I felt the themes and issues in it were important enough to give their own. Tbh, doing this screwed up chapter 67 a bit so I'm still sorting that out. But this was actually a really fun chapter for me to write. It's a break from the (hopefully) suspenseful action in the last few, but it provides a look into other characters and how they're developing. It also (again, hopefully) gives a bit of perspective about Damon's actions. A lot of times in these stories, games, and movies, the MC kills people and moves on. Well… how do people in these stories react to that? It's a topic I've kept pretty consistent throughout but this allowed me a different opportunity to explore it. That's all for this week. Next chapter will be of… a more appropriate length. I'll see you all then!

Next Chapter: 3/24, To the North