A/N: Season's greetings fellow insane people! Last weekend (and this week) turned into a bigger shitshow than I thought. We're (thankfully) past that now and back to our regularly scheduled programming. So. Last chapter. A bit heavy, especially with that end. With that being said, I think taking some time to unpack is important. We're getting closer and closer to Damon becoming a real boy, closer to the Minutemen becoming a real force, and closer to a big fight. There are some things still hanging around as well. I have not forgotten about those story elements, we'll be exploring those soon as well. Anyway, no more rambling from me, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 71: Intelligence
The fourth time we stopped, I told Blaine and Cole to take 20 minutes. I found them a place to hide in a thicket before taking Dogmeat to check the area. The two were beyond exhausted. Our progress had been slow and loud. It was almost painful; there was zero sound discipline or spatial awareness. They were both essentially stumbling through the forest, staying as close to each other and me as they could.
Despite my annoyance, I couldn't begrudge them that. Not after what they'd been through over the past two weeks. It's easy to forget what these attacks are like for people who don't spend their lives fighting. They go from living their daily lives to fighting for them. Even in the Commonwealth, active combat isn't something most experience. I'm starting to understand it's something most shouldn't experience. Not because they can't handle it. They shouldn't have to. It isn't something a normal person would find as… invigorating as I do.
Also probably a good thing.
Then spending weeks on the run, no training or experience to help them survive. It's a minor miracle they made it to the farmhouse alive.
Mostly.
A testament to their perseverance.
Their despondence wasn't just exhaustion. Even with them walking so close to me I might as well have been carrying them, neither met my gaze since we left. They didn't say anything when I left the house.
Dawn was going to die, but I'm still the one who killed her. I did it at Cole's request, sort of.
While I walked out a perimeter, Dogmeat to my left as had become custom, I tried to make sense of the last 12 hours. Between that asshole Raider blowing his brains out, the dream of the school, and then these thre- two… it had been a wild ride. A very different wild ride from the ones I'm used to.
I stopped to study a set of tracks. Boot prints. They were small and shallow, clearly conventional patterns. Not Brotherhood. It was hard to tell with the worn tread patterns, but I'd guess at least five or six different sets. The edges were soft too, almost indistinct. These were days old.
If I'm being honest, these situations weren't ones I'm equipped to deal with. Not as well as someone like Brenda or Nate.
Although… I don't know if either of them would have euthanized Dawn.
Still not sure how I should feel about that.
The morning was still quiet. No Vertibirds flying near us, no shooting, just wind through the sickly trees and too-loud footsteps. I could almost call it peaceful if it weren't for the mess that was my head.
What the hell had any of that dream meant?
Dogmeat let out a long, low whine. Fortunately, the three- two of them had ample supplies. That included a few bottles of water I used to refill my canteen.
I unscrewed the cap and poured some into my hand. It was gone as soon as I lowered it to a level he could reach.
After two more handfuls, Dogmeat was satisfied.
Once we were out of danger, I'd need some for myself.
We turned to head back to the two refugees. There were no signs of a tail. It would be almost impossible to watch from a distance, even with the relatively sparse forest.
"Damon?" Blaine asked. It was the first time either of them spoke in almost three hours.
"Yes?"
He looked down at Cole. The young boy didn't return the favor.
"I uh- we never thanked you for helping us." His voice was so low and empty… the gratitude felt hollow.
Again, couldn't blame him for that.
"You're welcome. Let's go."
The man blinked slowly, staring at me.
That… probably wasn't the best response. They were still processing everything but… I'm operating against a clock and I don't know how much time's on it.
Before I could say anything else, the man nodded. "Right", he said, his voice as absent as the nod. Cole never looked up.
The next half hour of weaving through trees, continuing to check for tails that probably weren't there, and making sure the two of them weren't collapsing passed quickly. It wasn't long after that when the farm drew into view past the treeline.
"Follow behind me", I said as we neared the clearing. "There are traps around the perimeter."
"Got it", the man said. He pulled Cole close to his side.
Dogmeat was still beside me, occasionally stealing glances at the two of them. I couldn't tell if he was suspicious or curious. He was smart enough to keep his distance. Cole hadn't said a word since he ran out of the house. Blaine was looking ahead with the empty, distant stare I'd seen on Nate after he learned his son was near twice his age.
These were two people who just happened to use the house I'd been in to rest. The only reason they did that was because Dawn was 'feeling bad'. Not a surprise considering she was a few hours from death. There was another group wandering the Commonwealth from the same settlement. How many other settlements had the Raiders wiped out? How many had we lost contact with?
The trees thinned until we were on the northeast edge of the farm. In the distance, I could see the continuing construction, preparing for an attack I wasn't sure was coming. Then again, it didn't matter, these defenses would be necessary in the near future. If not for direct action, deterrence.
Blaine and Cole followed me toward the almost imperceptible path that led safely through the perimeter.
Dozens of people were buzzing around the ongoing projects. The area around the Finches' shack was taken up by other houses. Newer construction was mostly walls, firing posts, and watch towers. They were mimicking a lot of the principles Sanctuary employed in different ways. Instead of a single barrier around the entire collection of houses, they were segmented. Their watch towers were larger, with armor that almost made them look like the shack on the hill above Sanctuary.
Even though I couldn't see the larger southern compound in detail, it looked much the same.
A patrol stopped at the far end of the path we were on and waited for us to reach them.
"Damon", a young man wearing well-worn cargo fatigues, what looked like a homemade tactical vest, and carrying a hunting rifle said. He was at some… odd form of attention. Back ramrod straight, rifle held at the low ready. It looked awkward. His brown hair was long and pulled back in a bun. That made him look even younger than he probably was.
Why was he at attention? I'm not his commanding officer.
Then I noticed the other three were likewise stiff. Nervous.
… Here we go.
There was no point in doing anything about it. Not here.
I motioned at Blaine and Cole. "These two need medical attention, food, water, and sleep. I need to talk with the Finches."
"Got it", the young man said.
As he led us to the ongoing construction project, and the rest of the patrol continued their route, I couldn't help but wonder about this guy's attitude. The others had treated me with… a mixture of respect, fear, and what had to be awe The ones who didn't know me, at least. This was new. I don't see an issue with them adopting some aspects of military organization, but it needs to be the right ones. And it needs to be done at an organizational level.
The Minutemen were a paramilitary outfit. Preston probably knows. The Railroad had to maintain strict discipline to operate like they did with the resources they had. They know too.
All the same, it's another topic to bring up when I talk with them.
We reached the houses and our escort waved someone down. A man who could have been this guy's brother, with the same slender build, wearing his hair in the exact same style, trotted over.
"What's up, Chris?" While the greeting was casual enough, his tone was strange. It was as if he was trying to project nonchalance. He was trying too hard. And the guy's eyes never left me.
"These two-" he turned toward Blaine and Cole and froze, mouth open. I could almost see the 'oh shit' in his wide-eyed stare.
He never asked their names.
"Blaine and Cole", I said. "They need to be given a medical check, food, water, and a place to sleep."
"Oh- yeah", the newcomer replied, a little too eager. "I can get that taken care of." He smiled at the two of them. "Can you guys come with me?"
Cole still refused to meet my gaze but Blaine looked up at me again. His eyes were still glassy, his expression was empty, and the sagging in his shoulders and legs betrayed his exhaustion.
"Thank you", he mumbled. "I-" whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat. He cleared it and shook his head. "Thank you."
I nodded. "I'll see if I can get someone to speak with you about finding your other group."
"That-" he paused to look down at Cole. The kid's face was as blank as a clean sheet of paper. I know that look. I've felt that emotion. "I can't tell you how much that would mean."
"Get them taken care of, Justin", our escort, Chris, said. "I'll come find you after."
Justin looked at me, then the man I assumed was his brother. "... Alright." He turned to my charges. "C'mon guys, let's get you checked out."
An unexpected pull tugged at me as he led them away. They were safe but… it felt like I should do something. Stay with them, help them find the missing group. Make sure they stayed safe.
But I didn't say anything. They disappeared past a group working on welding steel plates to the side of a house.
Neither looked back.
As callous as it sounds, I have other things I need to deal with. There are a lot of others flooding into the farms, and probably other Minutemen settlements, in the same situation. If I'm going to do something, it needs to be on a larger scale. I don't have the time to track down each group or settlement.
We'll see how good this new rendition of the Minutemen is at adapting. We aren't just preparing for a war now. At least, not the same kind.
This wouldn't be a revelation to anyone here or back at Sanctuary either. I'd have to ask about our other settlements to see how they're coping too. Resource management is going to be essential.
That being said, I'd like to know they're taken care of.
It isn't like the Minutemen are massive. I can find that out later.
Learning about it after the fact wasn't the same, and I knew that. My value wasn't in helping each individual person though.
"Come this way", Chris said and waved me toward the Finches' shack. "I believe Mr. Finch is inside."
He started toward their home. I followed, squinting at the patrolman. His voice had taken on the odd, overly deliberate, almost robotic tone I've heard a few times from new officers. It was annoying then and it's annoying now. The careful enunciation of each syllable made it feel as if the speaker thought they were talking to a child.
I caught the glances people were shooting my way. They were the suspicious ones I've grown used to in crowds around here. No… they were something else.
Worry about it later.
Inside the shack, Abraham was sitting at the table, looking over large sheets of paper with-
"Damon!" Anna exclaimed as I ducked through the door.
The young, athletic woman stood, pulling her brown hair back behind her ears.
"Cass said you'd be back soon."
Cass? When did they get so familiar?
She's just like Brenda…
"Yes."
Anna smiled. "It's good to see you again. From what she told me, you guys had, uh, mixed results."
"That's-" I don't have time for a recap of the last 10 days. Between the 'negotiations' in Diamond City and Goodneighbor, the Supermutants, the assassination attempt, the subsequent days hiding, "Later. A lot has changed."
The young woman opened her mouth, probably to protest, but time was a resource I didn't have much of. While it wasn't polite, I could give her the details later.
"Things are moving quickly. I'll tell you later", I said as I turned to Abraham. "Is there anyone I can talk to?"
He nodded slowly. "There is. Dez and Preston had us send a few folks back their way after I relayed your message. Sounds like they're puttin' a plan together. They want you there as soon as possible."
Good. "Thanks. Anything else I need to know?"
"Not at the moment." Abraham shook his head. "Workin' out stuff on our end. Jake might want you to take a look at a few things but", he looked at Anna, "think we got a handle on it."
The young engineer nodded. "Lot of lessons learned from Sanctuary. Tinker Tom and Able had been a huge help." She smiled again, this time so broad it almost looked painful. "The Railroad knows about building defenses. We've got a few surprises planned for anyone coming our way. That guy, Andrew, he's smart too. Really smart. He used to work with Sturges, right?"
I nodded. It sounded like they were heading in the right direction.
"Where's Cass?" I asked. "I'm heading to Sanctuary."
"You aren't gonna let her stay?" Anna replied. It almost sounded like a pout.
"We have a few things we still need to take care of."
She nodded solemnly. "Of course you do. She should be helping Andrew finish up the turret shelter. It's built into the side of an overpass support. You'll know it when you see it."
As I turned to leave, Abraham pushed himself away from the table. "Hey, we got a caravan of folks headin' to Sanctuary here in a bit. You mind givin' them some extra security on the way? It's a bigger group."
Security? "Have there been issues?"
"Not for us but… it's just risky to keep movin' this many people out of here. A few of the other settlements to the northwest have had some trouble. Nothin' major. No doubt the Raiders followed their victims. Just a bit of insurance."
No reason not to. I nodded. "When do they leave?"
"Check with Vincent. He's one of the Railroad guys. He'll know. They're leavin' from the south side."
"Got it."
"Justin", the eldest Finch said, addressing my 'escort'. "Stay here for a few minutes. I wanna talk with you about somethin'."
Good… I didn't feel like having the guy clinging to me everywhere I went.
With that, I left the shack and turned toward the freeway hanging over the east side of the settlement. As I picked my way through the construction, what Anna said about the firing position sounded true. Set against the near side of the closest support was what looked like one of the armored shacks from Sanctuary. The main difference was this one was elevated on a dozen thick, plated stilts. The 10 or 15 settlers around it were assembling what looked like rough attempts at gabion barriers.
Damn… they really were making progress. Gabion barriers, essentially cages filled with anything you can get your hands on, were great for static fortifications. Simple, easy to repair or replace, and can take a pounding. Arranging them around the supports for a firing position like this would make it damn near impossible to knock down. No doubt they'd be using them to reinforce other positions too.
Work slowed as I neared. The settlers stopped to watch me as if I were some sort of fair attraction.
I wonder what stories they've been told about me…
And which of those was true.
I spotted Cass and Andrew climbing a ladder into the tower.
"Cassandra", I called.
The teenager's head snapped down.
"Oh!" She looked at Andrew, who was below her, then back at me. "How did I miss you?"
"You were too busy talking", the Synth groused, just loud enough for me to hear.
That was an interesting development. Back in Diamond City and Goodneighbor, she looked almost afraid to talk.
That has nothing to do with getting back to Sanctuary.
Right.
"Are you preoccupied?"
"Uh- no", Cass said. "Well, not with anything they need me for. Do you… are we leaving?"
"Yes." I nodded. "Sanctuary. They have a caravan leaving shortly."
Andrew dropped off the ladder and stepped away. As Cassandra followed suit, I tried to focus on the two of them. The attention of the dozen people standing around us was as uncomfortable as it's always been.
Maybe that's something I'll never get used to.
I don't know if that's good or bad.
Dogmeat left my side for the first time since I fell asleep, bounding over to Cass, barking the entire way. He damn near tackled her and the teenager laughed as she started scratching at his back.
"Hey Dogmeat", she said, "did you keep him out of trouble?"
Dogmeat wagged his tail, letting out a loud Woof!
Cass snorted. "Yeah right. Not even you could do that."
It was an incredible, and sudden, switch from the all-business attitude the dog had over the past 24 hours. He circled her, tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting excitedly. He was a different dog and all it took was seeing Cass.
The teenager laughed again as Andrew walked toward me.
"Did you find out anything about the Raiders?" he asked. "Have they attacked any more settlements? Did- uh", the Synth paused and stared at the ground. "What about Clare and the settlement there?"
"Under Brotherhood control", I said. "The Raiders were going to gather for a counter-assault. Ruined that and the Brotherhood did the rest."
"And you're going to-" Andrew cut himself off, looking at the people around us, watching. "Sorry, I know you got annoyed with me asking yesterday. I just want to make sure they'll be okay. They treated me better than the Institute and people out here are supposed to hate us."
I could understand. The original group from Concord was the same way. And they put up with a very different me. I nodded. "It will take time but we'll get it done."
"Great." He turned back toward the tower. "Oh! Uh, don't worry about looking for the minigun. It's… in use."
… In use? I followed his gaze to the tower set into the side of the overpass support.
"You turned it into a stationary gun emplacement."
Andrew nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."
It would be a lie to say I didn't feel a pang of irritation, the weapon would be more useful here than with me. The minigun was entertaining but large and cumbersome. Carrying it, the ammunition, Mk18, and the McMillan was a pain in the ass. And it isn't valuable for the fighting I do. The suppressive fire it can lay down would be a massive tactical advantage for a static defense. They positioned it in a good location too, and it's well-reinforced.
"Ask next time", I said. "But yes, this is a good idea."
"Alright. I won't steal any more guns from you." He turned to the collection of houses, frowning. "Do you mind if I stay here? There's a lot going on. A lot I can help with."
"That isn't my decision. Ask them."
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You were saying I couldn't be captured."
"This settlement is as secure as anywhere else." I shrugged. "You won't be safer with me." Not with what's going to start soon.
Cass strode over, Dogmeat walking beside her, tail still wagging. "Okay. Let me grab my stuff."
"I'll get it Cass!" one of the settlers called. Before she could respond, the boy had disappeared into the houses.
I glanced around at the settlers still watching me. I understand, I'm a SPARTAN. People gawking is something I've seen plenty. These people have a job to do though. Why the hell-
"Hey guys", Andrew said as he started back toward the tower. "We're almost done here. Can we finish up?"
One by one, the onlookers turned back to their project as though they were tearing their gazes away from me. Which they probably were.
"How'd last night go?" Cassandra asked.
"... Not how I wanted." I watched as the last of the settlers, an older man with dark, weathered skin and the clothes to match turned away. "We need more information on the Raiders' movements. And-" that dream came back to mind. And Dawn. And the pang of… whatever that had been as I stood over the dying woman.
Should I ask her about the dream?
Maybe… I don't know. Would it do any good?
She might be able to help make sense of… all that.
Cass is dealing with her own issues. I don't need to load her down with mine too. If I need to talk with someone, I can find Ellie. Maybe Nick. But that can come after the current issue is dealt with
"And that settlement is under Brotherhood control."
"What does that mean?"
I shrugged. "They'll be safe for now. I don't know how long that lasts."
"Which is why we need to move fast", she finished.
"Yes."
"Okay." Cass nodded. "So what do we do now? What are we doing in Sanctuary?"
"Setting up scouting parties to go to the Raiders' base of operations. We need more information on their numbers, resources, and movements."
"What about the Brotherhood?"
"We already know what they're doing", I said. "Our job is to stop them from doing it."
She frowned. "And how-"
Footsteps approached from the houses. The quick cadence and deep thuds were that of someone running. Sure enough, the kid who went to retrieve Cassandra's equipment came sprinting out from between the Finches' shack and the larger house that had been built beside it. He was carrying her rifle slung over his shoulder and her satchel across his chest.
"Sorry I took so long", he panted as he came to a stop in front of us. His eyes were massive and, even though he was talking to Cass, he stared straight at me.
"It's fine", she said and retrieved her belongings from him.
"It's- uh-" the kid's open hand shot forward. "My name is Aaron. It's- it's- oh what's that word."
What the hell is this? I don't have time for whatever he's trying to do.
I took his hand and shook it. "Damon."
Aaron all but jumped, his arm jerking so hard, if I hadn't been holding his hand, he probably would have fallen over backward. A high-pitched yelp accompanied the act and, despite the ongoing events, I had to cover my amusement with a cough. That isn't how I'd expect someone to react to meeting a SPARTAN.
"That was dignified", I muttered.
Once his feet were firmly back under him, I released Aaron's hand and he snatched it back. His face was bright red.
"Yeah- uhm-" he paused, eyes fixed on the ground between his feet.
"It's good to meet you Damon", the kid forced out before he hurried around us and bolted for the turret emplacement.
Both of us watched in silence as he ran. The settlers were, again, looking at me.
"Well then…" Cass said, very clearly doing her best to keep a laugh down.
"... Yeah. Let's go."
We found Vincent in the larger collection of buildings to the south like Abraham said we would. He was in the middle of a few dozen people and Brahmin talking with a few of the settlers. As had happened every time I approached a new group, all conversation ceased.
"Damon", the Railroad operative said as I stopped in front of him. His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. "I heard you were out causing problems." Vincent's eyes darted around the assembled settlers.
"Taking a break."
A small smile crossed his face. "I see. Are you coming to Sanctuary with us?"
I nodded.
"Alright. I don't mind the added security. We've already planned our detail but…"
"Don't worry about me", I replied. "I'll find a position."
"Sounds good." He looked around the group again. "Give us another 10 minutes and we'll be ready to move."
"Understood."
They took a moment to resume their preparations. Even once they did, I felt eyes on me from all directions.
The bustling activity was almost as bad as the constant attention. It wasn't the activity itself, it was standing in the middle of it. Just like when I first arrived in Diamond City, my body knew large numbers of people around me were risky. Too many opportunities for any enemy to hide among the faces. It knew being in the middle of this much movement would give them cover to do anything they wanted.
Those instincts were something so deeply ingrained, they might as well have been hardwired.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't lose that. I'm not involved in these types of operations. There are people better equipped to handle them than me. I can't do everything. If Dez and Preston put Vincent in this position, he knows what he's doing.
A man and woman walking by. The guy was staring at me, hands tucked in the pockets of his cargo pants.
Three other settlers to my left, all carrying rifles similar to Nate's. Judging by their clothes and equipment, they might be Railroad.
A group strapping supplies to one of the Brahmin. Each of them would occasionally steal a glance at me.
They were all giving me a wide berth but-
"Are you alright?" Cass asked. She was standing beside me, one hand resting on Dogmeat's head.
"What?"
"You're looking around a lot", she said. "It makes you look nervous."
"Yes." I nodded. "I don't like being in this position."
"Position?" Cassandra looked around the settlement. "What do you mean?"
"Too many people. Too much activity. Too many risks."
"Oh… I never thought about that." She frowned. "These people are all with the Minutemen, right? Why would they be a risk?"
"We don't have the intelligence network to make sure every person coming in and out of a settlement is a friendly."
A few kids stopped to stare up at me before a group of adults, maybe their parents, came by to collect them.
"So how do we fix that?" Cass asked.
Immigration checks would be near-impossible to implement in an environment like the Commonwealth. The infrastructure doesn't exist, and the Minutemen don't have enough people to man it.
"It would require more resources than we have", I replied. "Checking people without a large information-gathering apparatus is pointless. In that situation, security is a more easily achieved solution."
"Are you saying, if we made it safer, you'd be more comfortable around people?" Cass smiled. "If that's the case, I don't think your problem is people, it's people you don't know."
"I-" People I don't know?
I am comfortable around people I know. At least, I'm more comfortable. Even Nate.
"Does that mean yes?" the teenager said.
"Maybe", I shrugged. "We can ask about security once we get to Sanctuary. They're probably working on it."
Especially with the massive influx of refugees.
She pursed her lips. "That isn't what I was talking about."
No? That seems like the most important topic from this conversa- oh.
"You can worry about my interactions with people once they aren't potential threats. Or in danger from those potential threats."
"Yeah", Cass muttered, "Damon, I think you need to figure out people will be more cooperative if they weren't afraid of you. Or if they liked you."
Is now really the right time to be talking about this? "The people I need to be cooperative are." I looked down at her. "We can worry about the rest when we aren't at war with three different, larger groups."
Cass opened her mouth to say something else but it slowly drifted shut. After a few seconds of relative silence, she decided she wanted to say it anyway. "Nate's right. It isn't fair how you shut down conversation just because you're you. Maybe you listen to something you disagree with every once in a while."
Without waiting for a reply, she knelt and began scratching behind Dogmeat's ears, much to his delight.
I blinked slowly. Do I do that? I've had plenty of uncomfortable conversations, especially with Nate. He's brought up how I'll control them at times but… do I do it that much?
This conversation was, apparently, finished.
A few minutes of bustling activity, interspersed with furtive glances, later, the preparations were complete and we headed out.
Vincent's detail split into three groups: a point team, 3 people a hundred meters ahead, and 5 more on rear guard, 50 meters back. The primary guard was six more arranged around the 15 settlers. The three groups were sure to maintain visual contact at all times. It was a sound adjustment to the traditional strategy. Conventional convoys would maintain spacing which left gaps for enemy forces to slip into if the terrain broke visual. I've taken advantage of my share of those gaps.
This was slower since they had to allow each group to regain its spacing if the convoy condensed. It also opened the convoy up to ambushes if the groups got too close. They did a good job of maintaining some distance. It looked like the point team had a minimum separation and they were well-disciplined. It was a detail planned by someone who's used to being on the other side of this convoy.
"What happens if the guys up there get attacked though?" Cassandra asked. "There's only three."
Vincent nodded. "True. It takes a certain type of person to be a good point man. They're observant, experienced, and quick-thinking. You have to have good instincts for where a threat might come from."
The point team slowed as we reached another elevation change. The crack-filled road led us over a small blind crest before heading down toward the river.
"You'd make a good point-man", the Railroad agent said, looking up at me.
"Yes. I've had to do a lot of both."
Cass cocked an eyebrow. "Both?"
"Leading a convoy, or team, and being the person ambushing them", Vincent answered for me. "It's almost like a game. Your point is trying to figure out where an attack might come from. The obvious ones will get sniffed out. The good ones will be harder to pin down. That's when you have to rely on their instincts and experience to figure out the more unconventional attempts." He looked at me again. "Got any good stories?"
About the cat and mouse game that usually developed from those situations? "Yeah", I said, nodding. "Plenty. A good point man is almost impossible to trick. Then it's about the fight."
Vincent smiled. "Sometimes it's just about being better than the other guy." When I met his gaze, the agent shrugged. "Something Deacon likes to say. You'll have to tell me some when we aren't, you know", he waved around us. "It'll be… educational." The Railroad agent's smile broadened.
It was so genuine, I felt my own face pull into a grin. "Sure."
While we walked, Vincent's security detail stayed disciplined. There were a few questions along the way, but everything was focused on the task at hand. I don't know if they were Railroad personnel or some of their trainees. Either way, whoever chose them did a good job. They weren't experts. They were the right people to become them.
On the other hand, the settlers we were escorting were… easily distracted. Any time I pulled my attention away from our surroundings, I realized at least a few were staring at me. The entire journey, I felt the aggravating tinge of eyes on my back.
There were more than a few occasions I thought about changing position. I could move up to point, or fall back to the rear. That would be selfish. These people need experience and this is a low-risk operation. Moving to the rear of the guard might help but… Maybe I just need to learn to deal with the attention. It isn't going away anytime soon.
It was well past noon when we joined the road that ran along the river. Sanctuary was ahead of us, its reinforced wall standing above the small island.
"Stay alert everyone", Vincent called as soon as the settlement was in sight. "The last mile is just as dangerous as the rest. Just because we can see the town doesn't mean we're done."
He was right. It's the same thing I've said on multiple occasions, including when Nate and I first arrived at Diamond City. Even so, I couldn't help but think about how this conversation would go. There were so many things to do, so many developments over the last week and a half. What had they already started planning for? What would I have to do?
One question hung in my mind, louder than the rest, something I hadn't given much thought. There were already enough variables on the table with the Brotherhood, Raiders, and Supermutants.
Why had the Institute been so quiet recently? They were working on something and I didn't like that.
Maybe Li has fed the Railroad intel. Maybe they already know.
I hoped so but somehow… it didn't feel right.
X
"I got all that", Preston said. "Not a lot of developments since you contacted us last." He grimaced. "Well… besides Vinny's." The Minuteman leader fell silent for a few heartbeats.
"Goddamn…" he glanced at Dez. She was sitting in one of the padded armchairs, elbow propped on an armrest, chin sitting in her hand, watching me.
"We've known the Raiders would be getting more active", she continued. "They've been a growing presence in the Commonwealth for a while now. The Brotherhood's arrival sped that up. What I don't know is why the Brotherhood has dramatically increased their activity over the past week." Dez leaned back in the chair. "You said you were trying to buy us time. You didn't tell us what you were doing in your report. So, mind enlightening us on what shit you stirred up?"
I squinted at the Railroad leader. Her outfit was much closer to a conventional covert operation than the Minutemen were to a standing force. She had a chain of command, was used to giving out orders, and ran the Railroad like a commanding officer.
That being said, I've never enjoyed being talked down to. Even my handlers figured out, if they wanted the best results, there were… more productive ways to question me.
While, logically, I knew she was just trying to get information, and I did ask they be the ones to lead this effort, I'm not a member of the Railroad or part of their normal chain of command.
"Hold on a sec Damon", Preston interjected. "Let's slow down a little, Dez. Damon volunteered to draw their attention. Probably a good idea to avoid jumping down his throat right after he gets back."
I must have been quiet longer than I thought.
She cocked an eyebrow as she met her counterpart's gaze.
"I know he's a…" Preston paused, frowning in thought. "… Field asset?"
"That's right", Dez replied.
Preston nodded. "I know he's a field asset, but he's also one of our best combat strategists and he's kinda the reason all this has happened." He shot me an amused smirk. "And can be a little volatile. That group's had a long two weeks. So…"
Volatile?
"So don't talk to him like I'm talking to a subordinate?" she finished.
"More or less."
Dez turned back to me and held my gaze for a brief moment before closing her eyes.
"Yeah, I hear that", she said through a deep exhale. "So what happened? The Brotherhood is running around like someone shoved a fuel rod up their ass. You must have done something big."
"Something big" is one way to describe it.
"Tried to assassinate Maxson."
Dez's eyes snapped open at the same instant Preston's went as wide as they could.
"You… tried to assassinate… Maxson", the dark-skinned man echoed. "How the hell did you do that? And why isn't the Brotherhood trying to wipe us out now?"
"Long-range shot through the front windows on the Prydwen", I said. "It wasn't successful. They never figured out it was us. We got out before they could make us." There was, obviously, more involved but that was the gist of it.
Both stared silently and I felt a faint sense of amusement settle into my stomach. It was a crazy idea, especially considering Nate and Brenda were along for the ride. But they performed well and got out without being spotted. Nate even managed to hit his first shot, not something I'd expect from a standard infantryman. Granted, I've known he's a very competent shooter for a while now.
Eventually, the two of them exchanged a brief glance before Dez huffed. "Yes. That would get them a little upset. How- what makes you think they don't know it was you."
Marsaul practically told me. "I encountered a squad while scouting the settlements to the northeast. They're still investigating the incident. At this point, they know I'm part of the Minutemen. Maxson doesn't want to start a fight with us yet since the Minutemen have a reputation in the Commonwealth. They tried to capture me."
"Which means they aren't sure it was you yet."
I nodded. "Their current conflict with the Raiders adds doubt to the situation. With their numbers and resources, Raiders might try an assassination attempt."
Dez sat up straight. "Resources? For that kind of assassination attempt?"
"Yes", I said. "They have large caliber rifles", I motioned to the MacMillan on my back. "They're capable of penetrating T60. I don't know if that's primary plating, but they knocked a few door gunners out."
"I think our reinforcements could use a little help", Preston muttered.
Desdemona nodded. "We'll need to start scavenging from larger sources."
"That old town-"
"We need teams in the field ASAP", I interrupted. "Planning further fortifications is secondary." And I don't need to be here for that.
"… I assume you mean recon teams dedicated to the Raiders", Dez said, eyebrow cocked at me.
"Yes."
"Agreed. We underestimated the threat they pose." She paused to rub a hand over her face. "We've had encounters with them over the years. This level of brutality is… new."
Preston grunted. "Whoever's in charge doesn't care about making enemies. Not if they make everyone afraid of them in the process."
"All I know is the name 'Castle'. I don't think they're in command anymore. That's the name I got from a Raider when I pulled Danse out of the base."
"That was almost a month ago now", Preston said.
I nodded. "And their force strength has increased by an order of magnitude."
Dez shook her head. "I've never heard of a Raider army that numbered in the thousands. Not outside the early gangs on the west coast." Her eyes narrowed. "That someone has managed to rally that much support… maybe their brutality has a function."
Oh… that makes sense. "The brutality is a draw for other gangs and a tool to keep his subordinates in line."
She shrugged. "It's possible."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've seen it", I muttered.
"Oh?"
I cocked my head to the side. "Now isn't the time."
Dez smiled. "Force of habit."
"Okay", Preston said. "So we know this group is way bigger than normal. My first instinct would be they're moving down here to expand their territory. But why? There are already large, established groups in the Commonwealth."
Desdemona and I met each other's gaze. The same thought was running through both of our heads.
"Resources", she answered. "Whoever's running that show has a gambling streak. You don't make an army of raiders like that without one. This is just a guess but, in their mind, they win, they get the remains of the Brotherhood's tech and whatever they can salvage from the Institute. They lose, they retreat and start again. They build this army once, they can do it again."
It was a good analysis but there was one thing she missed. "If they're successful, they're the major power on the east coast. With those resources, their numbers, and recruiting ability, they operate with impunity."
"That makes sense", Preston said, nodding. "How do we use this insight? We're trying to set up a scouting mission, right?"
Dez stood and began pacing. "It tells us where we need to focus. They want to establish control in the area around the base, but they also need to make sure the Brotherhood can't hit them whenever they want with that air power. They need to make sure their technological advantage is minimized." She stopped and turned to me. "That means well-fortified positions they can launch attacks from. They'll start expanding and establish more and more of them."
I nodded. "Wiping out settlements is for both space and control, then."
"Yep." Desdemona fell silent for a moment, one hand cupping her chin, the other arm across her chest. "… okay, I think I know where we need to start. This is going to be a two-pronged approach: multiple teams reconning the settlements to the north, east, and west. Another observing the base and their troop movements." She turned to Preston. "With a lot of our more experienced people training for the next few weeks, we'll need to set up hybrid teams."
The dark-skinned man nodded. "We can do that."
"Good. We'll get with Deac, Able, Tris, Glory and get a plan going." The Railroad leader looked back at me. "I guess now would be a good time to tell you Madison is going to be providing us with encrypted comms. Based on what she told us last week, we should be receiving the first units in two days."
Encrypted communication channels… "About damn time. Will that be long enough?"
Dez smiled. "If we had the comms now, I'd send them out by the end of the day. We've done a lot of this." Her grin faded. "I would like you to be involved in this conversation. I'm sure you have suggestions for areas of interest. Field knowledge is going to be key when putting a recon plan together on short notice.
Fair enough. "Agreed. What about screening?"
"That one… is going to be more complicated", Preston said. "Able has been working with some others on strategies for finding spies but with so many people coming in recently, it's hard to keep up. The best we have at the moment is to put as many people into the effort as we can and focus on observations."
"Yeah." Dez nodded. "We can try tracking them down but, with the refugee influx, we won't get them all. Even if we do… there will be enough time to cause damage. Obviously unacceptable. We're working on different solutions."
This is somewhere I have zero experience. Counter-infiltration was never a concern for me. I was always on the other end, and my operations were never that sort of clandestine.
What do I know how to do? Desdemona's right, letting it happen is an unacceptable answer.
What do I know? Well, the best way to deal with an uncertain threat is to remove elements that threat might harm.
"What can we do to isolate refugees from critical infrastructure? Defenses, crops, power generation, supplies, personnel."
"Isolate infrastructure?" Preston asked. "We're already struggling to keep up with the number of refugees we're getting."
"We don't have a choice. If we can't ensure no infiltrators are in the refugees, more direct approaches to security are the only option." I turned to Dez. "I don't need to tell you how bad it is if we don't."
She shook her head. "I'm guessing that's another topic I could pry for stories about."
"Correct", I said.
She exhaled hard through her nose. "I… Preston's right; we don't have the infrastructure to isolate other critical infrastructure."
"Yeah…" The Minuteman leader shifted. "I'm not arguing it's important…" his jaw set and he nodded. "We'll figure it out."
While I liked the confidence, it didn't mean much without a plan. I had a few ideas, but none of them were groundbreaking. Setting up a temporary settlement for refugees was the most straightforward but presented obvious logistical issues. Using an already existing settlement would get rid of some, but we'd then have potential threats living with civilians. Besides, even in those circumstances, any good infiltrators might have access to information by proximity. Even though I'm not trained or experienced as a covert operative, I could still find some way to do damage. With the number of opportunities anyone trying to seed the refugees with infiltrators would have, they might just-
Oh… They might just take whatever targets they can, do damage by volume. What if those targets didn't do any damage?
"Fake it", I said. "Lie about the importance of infrastructure that, if damaged, wouldn't be critical. Drill without revealing full combat capacity to mislead informants. Keep key personnel isolated without making it obvious."
"Oh… I like that", Dez said, smiling again. "We can even set up some fake elements of infrastructure, advertise them as something specific. Essential." She looked at Preston. "Any changes or improvements to defenses would have to be need to know. We'll need to play our response plans close to the chest too. Make sure the QRF teams keep quiet and we do dry-runs with our more specialized defenses."
"Okay. I think we can work with that." Preston nodded. "The Vault will be a point of interest no matter what we do. Our only option there will probably be to make it too risky to attack."
Dez nodded too. "Agreed. We'll shift some of the resources we've put on counter-intel to misinformation. The critical personnel guard will be an issue… we might have to get creative there but we have a starting point." She looked up at me again. "You got something good rattling around in that bucket."
I spent almost as much time in lectures as I did in field training so I'd hope so… Those were the primary topics I needed to discuss. Working through a recon plan shouldn't take long. While Nate and Brenda seemed comfortable at the school, and the people didn't raise any red flags, I wanted to get back. I didn't like leaving them without protection.
"I want to get back to the school."
"I'll get everyone we need together", Dez said. "Give me five minutes."
With that, the Railroad leader strode from the house.
"Well, uh, with what's happening, I didn't get to say 'it's good to see you", Preston said, smiling. "So yeah, it's good to see you again."
"Yeah", I nodded. "You too."
And I meant it. Dez has the widest breadth of experience between us, but Preston is learning quickly. He's a lot better at the 'people' side of things than her or I too. He's the right person to lead the Minutemen. I hope.
"Oh yeah? You don't want to be out there?" the Minuteman waved toward the door. "I'm sure it's more exciting for you than standing around Sanctuary."
"There are times I enjoy not being shot at", I said.
"That's a sensible response." He glanced at me, still smiling. "You alright?"
After the last few days? Nate? Brenda? Whatever the hell that dream was? Dawn?
"Not really. That can wait."
Preston's smile faded. "Is it something I should be worried about?"
Is it? This is something I've never dealt with before. It's emotions. Emotions are… something I'm bad at, as anyone who knows me would agree with. I shrugged. "Don't know yet. I'll let you know."
"There are people who can help."
"Yeah, I know." I turned back to the door. The noise of activity outside drifted through the opening. Would it be fair for me to take the time to deal with something like that now? My job is to be out in the field, doing whatever I can to make sure these people are safe. Or as safe as they can be.
Will I be able to do that if I have a mental breakdown?
That seems a bit extreme.
How would I know? I've spent my life burying whatever's happening to me now. ONI spent my life enabling me.
"Is the world going to end if you're a few hours late getting back to the school?" Preston asked. "Do they know you're coming back? Is there anything you absolutely need to be back there for? I know you want to make sure Brenda and Nate are alright but do you really think they're in danger?"
The Brotherhood isn't threatening the school… the two of them are on their own though.
Would the school be a threat to them?
How would I know the answer?
So I'm assuming they may be.
Survival is a game of minimizing risk.
But is this course of action minimizing risk? Physically, yes. Long term? Even with how quickly the Minutemen are progressing, they aren't ready for the fight that's coming. They'll need to gather experience by fire. Until they're ready, I need to buffer this. I can't do that if I'm a head case.
So… should I talk to someone?
"… I don't know", I said quietly as I watched a small group walk past the door.
Preston reached up to put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, I'm not saying this just because we need you. Something up and, while you may be impossible to get along with at times, I don't like seeing you struggle. No one does." He lifted his hand from my shoulder and slapped the plate over my deltoid. "Some of us even like you."
"Some of us even like you." "I'll talk with Ellie after we're done here."
"Good decision", the Minuteman leader said.
A few moments later, Dez returned followed by several Railroad members. Back into the world of subterfuge. At least it's something I'm comfortable with.
X
The sun was beginning its journey toward the western horizon by the time I exited the house. I'd been as engaged in the planning as I needed to be. They were still working out details: team compositions, areas of responsibility, emergency response, regular check-ins, etc. I didn't need to be there for the logistics. They had all the info I could give them, not that it was much, and my recommendations for the operation.
Desdemona's original strategy was sound. They're comfortable we have the personnel to do it, and splitting up the effort will give us the best coverage. Having multiple teams watching the base would have been excessive. With the theater the events were now happening across, we need all the information we can get. The Brotherhood and Raiders will only keep each other company for so long. That fight has, obviously, started spilling into Minutemen settlements.
With the Brotherhood shifting priorities to claiming territory and occupying settlements, we're operating on limited time.
And talking about priorities, Vinny's came up. I hadn't said anything about the burn pile. A combination of revulsion and creeping fury stirred in my gut thinking about it. I don't get to claim any moral high ground when it comes to killing but that…
From the moment I arrived in the Commonwealth, the Raiders have done nothing but give me reasons to dislike them. The burn pile gave me a reason to hate them.
I took a deep breath and tipped my head back to look at the mostly-overcast sky.
Which brings me to the main issue with that planning meeting: it hadn't been the only thing on my mind.
"I don't like seeing you struggle. No one does."
It's stupid. I know it's stupid. I can do a lot on my own, I've been operating on my own for the most part since I arrived here. But I didn't when I was with ONI. There were my techs, teams of analysts, recon personnel, informants, shrinks, and a goddamn prowler involved in every one of my operations. Once I was on the ground, sure, I was alone. Even then, I had people observing me, my targets (when possible), terrain, and weather, and providing live updates as needed.
Preston was right: the Minutemen don't exist without me. The Railroad's integration with them sure as hell doesn't happen without me. Goodneighbor isn't allied with them without me. But most of what they've done with their infrastructure has nothing to do with me.
For as proficient as I might be operating on my own, I've never been responsible for everything. I've always known that.
So why try to figure something out on my own when I have no experience with it?
The more I thought about what Preston said, the more sense it made. Talking to someone about whatever the hell is going on with me is probably worth the time. The recon teams are established, they're going to start working on misinformation strategies (Deacon said he'd ask for my advice on points of interest), and they're going to start further reinforcing their infrastructure. I'd like to get back to the school to make sure Nate and Brenda are safe but, with Cass, I won't be getting back there until tomorrow anyway.
Getting an actual night's sleep might be a good idea too.
I started west toward the house Perkins and Valentine had turned into their office. Cass and Dogmeat were… somewhere. This is Sanctuary. It's the safest place outside of, maybe, Goodneighbor. Hell, Cassandra's probably off making new friends anyway.
Settlers were everywhere now. It hadn't been two weeks since I was here last but the place felt three times as crowded. Granted, that may be my discomfort being around large numbers of people. Or, in Cass's estimation, large numbers of people I don't know. Whichever it is, there were a lot of faces I didn't recognize in the crowd. A lot of those faces turned to stare as I passed.
As I neared the detective's office, I stopped trying to keep track of the deluge of people around me. There were too many faces to memorize.
Hopefully, Dez can handle this.
"Tin can!" Valentine's odd, distorted voice called from inside their makeshift office. The door swung open to reveal the old synth detective. He was, as usual, wearing his full-length trench coat and wide-brimmed hat.
He had to change at some point, right? Does he have multiple versions of the same outfit?
"The rumor mill has been buzzing about you being back in town." Valentine's customary, lopsided grin was already plastered across his face. "To what do we owe the honor of your company?" He laughed. "Sorry, sorry, it isn't your fault. You should hear how some of the folks around here talk about you now. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some kind of angel. Or monster. Depends on who you ask."
Stopping in front of the synth I shrugged. "Maybe I am."
"Maybe, but the way you said that tells me you aren't happy to hear about it."
"You don't have to psychoanalyze everything I do", I said.
"I'm a detective, tin can, occupational hazard." Valentine cocked an eyebrow- or what would have been an eyebrow- at me. "So what can we do you for? Things are a little busy and a little birdie tells me they're about to get busier but we'll see if we can squeeze you in."
I looked over the Synth to see Perkins sitting at her desk in the living room. She had journals stacked all over it, furiously writing in one as the detective spoke.
"I need some help with-" how do I even phrase that? "With figuring out how I'm supposed to feel about killing people."
Perkins's writing stopped and she looked up at me, squinting.
"That's a strange thing to ask about", Valentine said. "But, unless I'm missing something, it kinda sounds like you're asking me to psychoanalyze you."
"Yes."
"So that thing about not psychoanalyzing you…"
"Is still valid. You don't need to do it with everything I do."
Nick frowned. "Of course." He turned to look into the house at Perkins before looking back at me. "Killing people, huh? Did something happen?"
"Multiple somethings."
"Okay smartass. Two jokes in under a minute. When did you find a sense of humor?" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Come inside."
As he turned to walk back into the house, Ellie closed the journal she'd been writing in and set it aside.
The detective dropped into a chair with a thud. "Sometimes I wish I smoked. Alright Damon. Killing people. I know you don't know how to be tactful so let's get straight to it. What's the issue? You have issues with a lot of things, like your past, but you've never struck me as someone afraid to take a life." Perkins cleared her throat, loudly. "Not that I don't know other people who are the same way."
"Good save", the secretary said under her breath.
"No." I shook my head. "He's right. I haven't. I don't know if I do now. While we were in town, Brenda and Cass… learned more about me- about what I do. Brenda had to kill for the first time. It was in self-defense. I don't know how… normal people react to killing. She was upset. Very upset. This isn't the first time I've thought about it, but it's the first time it's affected me like this."
"What do you mean "like this"?" Perkins asked.
"I've had doubts before, but it's never stopped me. Taking the time to consider the people I kill… hasn't been a regular part of my day."
She frowned. "And now it is?" I shrugged. "You said multiple things happened."
What do I tell them? Goodneighbor? The dream? Dawn? Vinny's? The other settlement? All of it?
Probably all of it.
"Nate's upset I killed one of Dr. Li's people. Brenda's upset I kill people… or maybe the number of people I've killed… or how I act when I do it. Or maybe all of it. I think she's scared of me. Cass was, she might still be, I don't know."
"Okay", Nick said slowly. "It's reasonable to be concerned with those things but all of that is about them. You said you are struggling."
Before I could respond, Perkins waved a hand at her partner. "Hold on. Is that why you're questioning yourself? Because they had a problem with it?"
It… wasn't the first time I've questioned what I do. It's the first time those questions have hit me like this. "Maybe. I- I trust Brenda. And Cass. They wouldn't feel the way they do if they didn't have a reason. I know my mind doesn't work… the way it should. And I know killing people isn't something I should do as casually as I do. I don't enjoy it, but it's never-" Goodneighbor "-it was rare killing bothered me."
"... Until now", Valentine said.
I shrugged. "I don't know if it bothers me now. That's the problem. This morning, when I woke up, there were a few people who survived a Raider attack in the house with me. One of them, a woman named Dawn, had fatal sepsis. She'd fallen gone unconscious. Her son… asked me to euthanize her." I looked down at my hands. I could still feel the weight of my knife. "I felt something. Don't know what it was."
"Damon", Ellie said, "I don't normally make assertions like this but I trust you can understand. You felt guilty. Whether that's from euthanizing her, survivor's guilt, guilt for having to kill the boy's mom, I don't know. What you felt is guilt."
"How are you so sure? I know what guilt feels like. From Goodneighbor. This felt different."
"Because I know you well enough. I know enough about your past. You're right, your mind doesn't work like most people's but, even early on, I saw the empathy. Your friendship with Nate." She offered a sad smile. "It might be more complicated now, but you care about him. We know what you did for the Finches. We all know what you did for Mack. A few of us know how upset you were about Haylen. You placed yourself in the boy's position, you know what that feels like. There's nothing wrong with feeling guilty about taking a life."
It's hard to explain. That hadn't been the same as Goodneighbor. Going back, I knew what I did was wrong. I killed people who had nothing to do with KLEO, not only had they not deserved to die (which, I admit, someone 'deserving' to die is probably a metric I should rethink), they'd still be alive if it hadn't been for me. This time was different. It was as if I was the reason Dawn was laying on the rotten wood floor, dying. As if I was taking Cole's mother away from him like the Covenant did me.
But I was. I was the one who ended her life, even if the infection would have done it eventually.
It was something I did out of mercy, not genocidal mania. Does that matter to Cole though?
Yeah, it probably does.
If that's the case… why do I feel guilty?
"What do I do with that?" I asked. "How do I… fix myself?"
Nick shook his head. "Nothing to fix. There's nothing wrong with feeling guilty in that situation."
"If it stops me from doing my job there is."
"Has it?" Perkins asked.
"Not yet."
"Maybe", Valentine said, "if feeling guilty stops you from doing your 'job', you should change your job description."
Change my job description? "What?"
"It isn't a big deal." The detective shrugged. "You don't do the same thing you did before coming here, right?"
No… "I do what I do the same way."
Valentine fell silent and fixed me in a deadpan stare, his eyes glowing that odd yellow.
"You're telling me", he said slowly, "the best soldier I've ever met can't adapt to a new situation."
I cocked my head. "I'm competitive, not stupid."
"So? Am I wrong?" A small smile spread across the Synth's face.
"I'm trained to adapt to reconnaissance, survival, and combat situations." That was the truth, but it was bullshit too. He knew it. I knew it. From the cocked eyebrow and bemused frown, Ellie knew it.
"You didn't say 'no', and you already admitted you're competitive. You'd fight to adapt to whatever new thing came your way. Because you have to. It's why you're here, talking to us. Even if you might suck at it."
Why do I keep talking with these two? Every time, it's like they're reading an open book.
Because it's helpful? Because they know what they're talking about? Because they've been right so far?
"Fine", I said. "Yes. I get what you mean."
"It sounds to me like you already know all of this, Damon", Perkins said. "At least subconsciously. You know you've changed… Are you looking for someone to tell you that's okay? That it's completely reasonable to have these questions? We all grow and change over time, especially when we're young." She smoothed her hair back, still frowning. "Or are you looking for someone to tell you it's okay to keep doing what you're doing?"
"… No." I shook my head. "If I don't do my job, the Minutemen doesn't survive the next month." My gaze shifted to Valentine. "Even if I have to change my 'job description'."
"Are you trying to figure out how to process guilt, then?"
"I-"
The image of Brenda, sitting in that chair, so tense she looked like she'd strain every muscle in her body without moving, came to mind. I'm well-acquainted with that type of fear. It's the same fear I've seen on the faces and in the body language of Innies when they realize their lives are about to end. And Cass. She was afraid of me too, despite knowing I'd do anything to protect her. They were scared of me. That's probably a different type of guilt too, but I felt it.
"Maybe", I replied quietly. "I'm also trying to figure out what to say to Brenda. She's afraid of me. Of what I do. I think Cass might be too. I don't want them to be."
Silence fell over the house-turned-office and the two of them exchanged a glance. Something passed between them and Valentine grunted.
"I'll go through the rest of the reports. Able was saying he's gonna have more in the morning." He waved at the door. "Go on."
Smiling, Perkins stood from her desk and started toward me. "Let's go for a quick walk. I've been in here all day. I could use some air."
Okay…
We left Valentine to the stack of folders and journals.
"This way", the secretary said, waving me toward the back of the house.
She led me off the street, toward the river running behind their makeshift office.
Once we neared the edge of the water, Perkins came to a stop. "Damon, sometimes you just need to talk with people."
The slender, tall woman looked up at me, expectant, with her eyebrows raised and a small frown. I knew what she was doing; leaving the obvious question for me to ask, she was trying to make me engage with her. Was it to prove a point?
"What do you mean?"
"Well", she turned and began walking along the river. "I've had enough hard conversations, both for myself and other people, to know no one is comfortable having them. If someone cares about you, they'll listen to what you have to say." I started after her as she neared the edge of the yard. "Despite what you may think, there are people here who do care about you."
… I haven't thought about whether people here care about me specifically. Should I have?
"For the reasons I said earlier, a lot of folks know you mean well. Sure, you can be hard to get along with, but that isn't because you're a bad person. It's because you never learned how." The secretary glanced back to look at me. We were nearing the bridge. "Give people some credit. They're able to understand a lot when we give them the chance."
There were a dozen or so settlers carrying supplies across the bridge when we reached it. We stopped to let the group pass.
"You're saying Brenda would be receptive if I talked to her?" I asked. Perkins nodded. "She wasn't before."
"Duh." She shot me another bemused frown. "Brenda just killed someone for the first time. From the sounds of it, she was in a life-or-death situation. She was beyond stressed and had only then discovered what it was like to take a life. Then she has to contest with the idea you, a close friend, do that regularly and, in her opinion, remorselessly. Yes, she's going to struggle. No one will be receptive in that situation." We continued past the bridge once the group was gone. "She's had a chance to think. Brenda is intelligent. Give her another chance. I'm sure she doesn't have a second thought about giving you one."
"I hope so", I said as I looked up at the hill across the river. "Strange how much harder it is for me to have a difficult conversation than fight."
Perkins laughed. "Not at all. That's normal. Conflict is straightforward, even if the ways you engage in one aren't. Emotions are anything but straightforward. They're complex, messy, and you rarely, if ever, know when something's finished. And you never 'win'."
We passed behind Nate's old house and headed along the river until we were halfway down. The secretary stopped just beneath one of the raised firing platforms they'd built. "It wouldn't hurt to talk to Nate either. You two might be upset with each other, but that won't get better by ignoring it. I'm sure he has a lot of insight into what you're dealing with."
I know he does. That's the problem. I… I don't know if I'm angry with Nate anymore, but I also don't know if I'm ready to call him a friend again. I trusted him. That hadn't worked out well.
"Do you still feel the same about him?" Ellie asked.
"The same as the last time we talked?" She nodded. "No."
"What changed?"
"He performed well in the field. Unsurprisingly. Madison's cooperation corroborates his story. And I've had time to calm down and look at the situation more rationally."
The secretary smiled. "Good. If you're having doubts about talking with Brenda, ask him. You don't have to spill your guts to the guy, but I'd bet my life they've talked about you. He likes you. He trusts you. I'm sure he wants to see you and Brenda make up."
What she's saying makes sense. I don't like that it makes sense, but it does.
And if the Minutemen are going to survive this, I can't spend time being immature. Nate is a valuable asset and we can't afford to have some childish grudge keeping me from working with him.
If he can help me with Brenda…
"I'm sure he has", I said. "If I need help, I'll ask."
"Good", Perkins said, her smile broadening. "Let's go grab some dinner. I assume you're staying here tonight?" I nodded. "Sounds like a perfect time to get some rest, then."
I smiled too. "Agreed."
A/N: So yeah, last weekend. Cousin ended up having surgery to repair a couple anyeurisms, the 'family in town' thing turned into a mess (as usual), and I didn't get to spend any time at home. But we'll be back to our regularly scheduled postings again. One thing I've been focused on is making sure the world moves around our main characters. I always find it boring when a setting exists solely for the MC to exist in it. When they're gone, nothing happens. It's dumb and lazy writing. That's why I've done what I have with the Minutemen. They're reliant on Damon and the crew for some things, but they aren't automatons. In Damon's case, they're something for him to focus on, which has catalyzed changes he wasn't aware could happen. I hope I'm doing that justice. That's all for this chapter, I'll see everyone next time!
Next Chapter: 6/16, Conversations Are Hard