A/N: Good Saturday morning fine folks of fanfiction, welcome back! Apologies for not posting yesterday, I was traveling for work and decided it would be better to wait until today. So... last chapter, amiright? Well, we have more to do. But I'm not gonna ramble like I normally do, not today. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 90: Acceptance.

Nate didn't say anything. He stood there beside a tree, gazing at what was left of Castle. She'd caused so much damage. She'd hurt so many people.

And she'd broken as easily as anyone else.

Including me.

As the silence carried on, I looked down at my lap. My hands were resting there, the right one covered in blood, bits of bone, and gray matter. Some of it had splashed onto my chest and left shoulder, too.

Droplets fell into the mess that had been in Castle's head 30 seconds ago.

Tears.

It had been so long since I cried last. I remember it, the first field training I'd done after augmentations. My body was still acclimating and adapting. I pushed too hard. The pain had been… beyond anything I've ever experienced before or since. Everything was on fire.

More tears drew tracks through the gore on my armor.

Guess it wasn't much different from now.

"Sorry", I managed. I pulled my knees to my chest- or, as close as one could while wearing power armor- and rested my forearms on them. "I just- I can't stop fucking up."

Nate looked at me, his eyes lingering on my face. He didn't try to hide the curious frown. It was the first time he'd seen me without my helmet. The first time anyone here had.

"If you could, I wouldn't think you were human", the ex-soldier finally said. He hobbled toward Castle's corpse and reached down to pick my helmet up from the mess that used to be her head. He hefted it. "This thing is heavy."

"What do you mean you wouldn't think I was human?"

Nate stared into my helmet's visor.

"I mean, I've spent most of my life fucking up. That's pretty much everyone I know." He lowered my helmet and turned to me. "The only people who don't either don't try or never live in the real world."

He limped his way over and offered it to me.

I stared at my helmet, half-covered in the remains of Castle's head.

More people know me by that than my own face.

"Thanks", I said as I took it.

Nate nodded before settling against the tree to my left.

He didn't respond. The ex-soldier leaned his head back against the grayish-brown tree bark and closed his eyes. Quiet spread through the forest. Besides the sounds of activity drifting up from Sanctuary, it was silent.

Peaceful.

Peaceful. Is that even something I deserve? All this time, I've been running away. Joining the SPARTAN III program, pushing the rest of Gamma away, spending every waking moment exercising or training, then pushing myself as far as I could in the field for almost a decade. It turned me into a phenomenal weapon, one ONI could drop off damn near anywhere they wanted and pick up when whoever they wanted eliminated was dead.

It also turned me into a terrible person.

My eyes were still fixed on my visor.

How many times had that been the last thing someone ever saw? How many of those people deserved it?

I don't know, and I don't know. And the fact I couldn't answer either of those questions-

There would be people who feel the same way about the people I've killed as Cass and Corey feel about Brenda. As Victor and Owen feel about Able.

And what was that all for? So I could keep hiding from the truth like a fucking child? Hiding from the fact that, no matter what I did, not only was I unable to save everyone from the Covenant, but there was never anything I could have done.

So much pain. So many lives ended. So many stories left unfinished. So many left behind.

All because I'm a coward.

"I feel like I should say something but I don't know what", I said and placed my helmet in the dirt beside me. I looked at my hands again. They were drenched in blood.

"What are you thinking?" Nate asked.

It was a simple question, but the answer felt so… asinine. I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself when people suffer because of my ineptitude. People are dead because of it. And we have enemies out there, preparing to fight us, and I, the best combat asset the Minutemen have, am sitting against a tree after beating the best information asset they had to death, feeling sorry for myself.

…

But all the same… "That I'm ten times the monster Castle was."

The ex-soldier opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at me. "Not from where I'm sitting."

"Really? I've killed… so many people for no reason. Or- I didn't know the reason. So many lives I just-" I shrugged. "Every one of them was a person. Like Able. Or Vince. They all had people who cared about them. And when it came time for me to save people, I couldn't. Now they're gone, there's nothing I can do to fix that. For all people want to say about SPARTANs back in my universe, what people here say about me-" my throat tightened as I thought of Brenda lying in that bed. Corey was just sitting there, staring at her. "Those people are dead, and everyone who cares about them is suffering."

"What about you?" he asked.

Me? "What about me?"

"You cared about them too. And don't say how you feel about it doesn't matter."

I turned my head to look at the ex-soldier. "Does it? Do I get to think that?"

Nate held my gaze for a moment before his eyes fell away and Nate started tugging at the dressing over his right hand. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the tree. "I like to think so. Not like I have the answers for any of this. I didn't do any better."

"What?" He didn't do any better? "You kept everyone calm and focused. I saw how much your- I don't know- steadiness affected the team. And no one died on your watch."

"Steadiness?" My friend huffed. "You saw me in there. I wasn't calm or collected."

"No, but they didn't see that. Able knew how important it was too."

He grimaced. "All I did was keep the ship afloat. We all knew you were coming. I was waiting for that. Sitting there, buying time, waiting to be saved."

"That isn't true either. It was your plan to get support from other prisoners."

After a heartbeat's pause, Nate took a deep breath and nodded. "Sort of. Not just mine but- I guess. What I was trying to say is I think you get to think about how you feel. Because if you don't, what's the point of all this?"

All this? "All what?"

"Everything all of us have been through. You aren't the same Damon I met when I first woke up. I think you know that. So what's the point of everything that's happened since then if you don't get to think about what you're feeling right now?"

My eyes drifted back to my bloodied hands. "I'm still the one who killed- fuck me, it has to be four digits at this point." And not on the low side of that, either. "Why do I get to worry about how I feel when I've put so many other people through this? Why do I get to take the time to think that when so much of this is my fault?"

"No", Nate snapped. My gaze shot back to the ex-soldier. His voice was almost poisonous. But it wasn't directed at me. "I know what you told me back when we first got to Diamond City but I refuse to accept a five-year-old who went through what you did gets to take responsibility for what some fucked up military black ops outfit did to him."

My friend's jaw tightened and he opened his eyes again. He didn't look at me but, even from the side, I could see they were wet. "I mean, look at you. I've met some genuine psychopaths along the way, people who joined because they enjoyed it. They would never be sitting here thinking about this the way you are." The venom had been replaced by a thick, almost choking emotion. He stopped fidgeting with his dressing and jabbed a finger into his chest. "I made the decision to join." He did it again. "I ran away." And a third time. "I was an adult when I signed up." He finally turned to me again, his glassy eyes landing on my face. "You were just a kid. You still are. You're barely older than I was when I first deployed."

"... But I still killed", I said slowly. "And I knew- I always knew- what I was doing was wrong. Maybe not- I don't know if everyone I killed deserved having me sicced on them, but it doesn't matter. I was running too." I huffed and leaned back against the tree. "All this time, I knew there was nothing I could ever do to help anyone who died during the attack. I didn't want to face it. I hid, telling myself I'd die soon enough, so why would it matter what I did? Maybe I was hoping I died before I ever reached the point I'd have to face that reality." I shook my head. "Isn't that pathetic? Killing people- doing to them and the people around them what the Covenant did to my family and me."

"If that's what you think, I'm just as much of a monster as you."

I frowned and looked back at Nate. "How?"

"Because what I ran from was- nothing compared to that. I was running because I didn't want to deal with my asshole dad anymore. I was old enough, I could have done something. But I didn't. I left my mom to deal with him on her own. I hid from the real world in the military for 17 years. I fought and killed- I wasted a decade I could have spent with Nora because I was too scared to rejoin the real world. The military is easy. They tell you when to get up, they tell you what to wear, they tell you when to eat, they tell you what to do, and they tell you when to go to bed. It gave me an excuse for everything, and it meant I didn't have to worry about real problems. The real world is scary. There's nothing to hide behind."

No, Nate didn't- he didn't have the same choices I did. That isn't fair for him to lump himself in with me. He didn't kill- however many I have. He found his way out. "That doesn't make you the same monster I am", I said through a clenched jaw. "How many bodies did you leave behind when you were running? And you left. You got out. You weren't in much longer than I've been and you were able to quit. It took me getting dropped into another reality to wake the hell up."

"Do you think your body count is the only thing that matters?"

I threw my hands up. "What else would?" I took a deep breath and wrestled my anger back under control. None of this is Nate's fault. He isn't the one I should be angry at. "I've- been having these dreams. In the school. I don't know what they mean, not entirely. The last one, there was this huge pile of burning books in the courtyard. They were all unfinished. I picked one up and- I couldn't read it in the dream but- I'm pretty sure it was Wendy's book."

"Wendy… was that woman in the ring Castle made you kill?"

"Yeah. All those people's lives cut short because some stupid kid was too much of a coward to face what happened to him."

Nate let out a long, deep sigh. "Damon, take it from someone who has had the displeasure of getting to know a lot of people, no one would be able to face what happened to you. Not in any healthy way. Especially not while living in a system designed to turn you into a supersoldier."

"So you're saying nothing I did is my fault?" I asked. 'Accused' would probably be a better word for my tone. "Because Castle didn't make me kill Wendy. I made that choice myself."

A smile danced across the ex-soldier's face for the first time since he sat against the tree. "Did you? I think I know you well enough- did you really make that decision? Everyone could hear what you all were saying. You took that shot for Julian instead of killing Wendy. And, up to the last second, you were trying to figure out how to get everyone out of that ring alive. Your first instinct was to protect both of them. Killing Wendy wasn't even an option, in your mind. When you had to… I saw how long you stood there. I've seen that look before. I've had it. And I was there when you came out of the ring."

His smile broadened. "And the last fight. When you stopped me. The only thing that made it through my head was how desperate you sounded. Maybe even scared. I stopped because, in the back of my mind, I think I realized you were scared for me. Then, when Castle tried to do the same thing with me as she did with Julian, you would rather have started a fight that would probably have gotten you killed than shoot Buck and the other prisoners." Nate shook his head. "You didn't make the decision to kill Wendy. You just didn't want your friend to die and that's the only way you could make sure it didn't happen. Julian was your priority."

I swallowed. Hard.

"But I still killed her", I managed past the lump in my throat.

My friend nodded. "And you're right, that's something you can never take back. It wasn't your choice, though."

It wasn't? My mind played back the events of that fight. I'd done everything I could to keep the deaths to a minimum. Once the fighting was over, I took an IED blast instead of killing Wendy. And, when I did-

Wendy had been the one who made the call.

I still pulled the trigger.

Because I was afraid. I didn't want to lose Julian.

"I'm not saying you aren't responsible for anything you did", Nate continued. "I'm saying there was so much out of your control."

That may be true, but… "It doesn't change the fact that everything I've done happened because I couldn't face reality." My eyes drifted back to my hands again. "Maybe—I thought maybe if I was good enough, I could fix it—I could—" my voice caught in my throat.

"Make things right?" my friend finished.

That works. "Yeah. Something like that."

The ex-soldier blew a long, hard breath out. "You and me both. I've screwed so much up. Nora deserved better than me. I even said that to her once. The way she looked at me- I don't think I'd ever been that afraid before. Wasn't sure I'd be leaving our bedroom alive."

"And then I ended up here", he said through another deep breath. "Ran across this goddamn hellhole for months with you trying to get Shaun back and- well- you know. I- I think the worst part about when he told me my son wasn't the 10-year-old boy in the cell was that I realized I could have known exactly where he was and how to get to him and wouldn't have made a difference. I was in that damn Vault, frozen, while my son was raised by the Institute. The only thing I could have done differently was change how I lived 200 years ago. That wasn't an option on the list of things I could do."

"I remember", I replied. "That was… difficult."

Nate grunted. "Understatement of the millennium. It's still hard for me to think about."

That wasn't a pleasant memory for me either. Although it had nothing to do with me, it still felt like someone had yanked reality out from under me.

Empathy. What a… hard thing to figure out.

But he was trying to go somewhere with this. Where?

"So what am I supposed to do then? There are probably still thousands of people dead because of me. All because I was trying to fix something I knew was impossible the entire time. At least you didn't know."

There was no immediate answer. When I glanced at Nate, he was staring up at the canopy above us, the morning light filtering through as the branches swayed in the gentle breeze.

"I wish I knew", he finally said. "I thought I had an idea, back before all this, when I was with Nora and Cook and Miranda. Me and Cook spent a lot of time talking, working our way through what we did when we were in. No, it wasn't as much as you but", he shrugged. It was a sharp, almost painful-looking motion, "once you get to a certain point, I don't know how much it changes. I still killed people because I didn't want to face my dad. That I'd abandoned my mom to him made it even worse. I still left Nora waiting for years because I was too afraid to come back. I hurt people because I was scared too. Same with Cook. A lot of career soldiers do. Not all, but a lot."

It doesn't change? I couldn't even guess how many people I've killed. Hell, I don't know how many I've killed since coming here.

But I do know 17 prisoners died because of me. Because I killed them.

Isn't that different, though? I didn't want to kill them. I didn't do it for no other reason than I was told to.

Does that matter? They're still dead.

It has to matter. If it doesn't- why am I even having this conversation? Why am I thinking about it? I fight and, because I'm a SPARTAN, that means I kill people. If why I do it doesn't matter, who cares if I have this realization or not? I could go back to how I was and this would all be pointless.

"Nate, do you think it matters I didn't want to kill the prisoners?"

His eyes were still on the canopy above. "I think so, yeah. It- uh- it did for me. There was this one woman- shit, no, this was a girl. Couldn't have been any older than Cass. It was her or me. I chose me. But it felt different. I couldn't tell what it was but fighting just… didn't feel the same after that. When I was going through the "healing process", it was a lot easier to come to terms with everything I did after that. It felt like the times I chose to pull the trigger were a lot more… careful."

"I've seen that look before. I've had it."

Was that what he'd been talking about?

"Did you have 'that look' when you killed her", I asked

Nate nodded.

… Oh. If that's the case, what did that mean about what he did prior to that?

"What about the times before?"

"Well…" he glanced at me and grimaced. I saw something pass through his head, a thought he clearly didn't want to share.

"Just say it", I said.

"What I told Cook was killing that girl had been hard. It hurt. But it didn't make me hate myself. What made me do that was all the times I'd done it before and didn't care. You look at yourself and you think, "what kind of monster am I?" That's what I did, at least." He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. When he opened them again, they were focused on me with a new sharpness. "If I know you as well as I think I do, that's what you're going through right now."

I blinked. That put it into words better than I ever could.

"I think so."

"If that's the case, I'd love to tell you it's easy, but it isn't." He offered another small smile. "Having people around you makes it easier."

… Was it fair to ask the next question that came to mind? Was it fair to all the people I've killed? All the people they left behind? Is it fair for me to want to heal?

It's just like the attack. I can't keep doing this- I don't know if I can live with it. And what would the point be if I decided to end it here? That doesn't bring anyone I killed back. It doesn't help any of the people I've hurt.

"… Did you come to terms with it?" I asked.

The ex-soldier nodded. "Eventually. Figuring out how to cope with- with not being able to save Shaun? With never having been able to save him? Or Nora? I'm still working on that one." He frowned. "Don't know if I'll ever figure it out."

I nodded. "It's so hard to accept something that important is completely out of my control. If I had been back there during the attack now, I could have protected my family. But I'm not. I was five. And I couldn't do a goddamn thing."

Some SPARTAN I turned out to be. HA! SPARTANs. What a joke. I laughed. It was harsh, mocking, and devoid of any humor. "Now I have to deal with all this shit."

Nate cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"People fall over themselves around me. I've started seeing it more and more. They're starting to treat me like people treat SPARTANs in my universe."

"... And you don't like that?"

"No", I shook my head. "What, people are supposed to look up to me because I was conditioned to be a weapon since I was five, got a bunch of needles stuck in me, and then shoved into a suit of power armor?" I waved a hand back toward Sanctuary. "If any of them knew what I am or what I've done, they probably wouldn't look at me. If the people in my universe knew what SPARTANs did, it would be the same way."

"You've… done a lot of good since you came here", Nate said slowly.

"Yeah? And? Why is that any different than what anyone else does or tries to do? What makes me better? That I can do more? It isn't like I'm the one who did this to me", I gestured at myself. "It wasn't courage or dedication that got me through training. It was fear."

The ex-soldier fell quiet again, studying me.

"What makes me any better than Able or Vince? They gave their lives to protect other people." I looked down at myself. My armor. "I've never had to worry about making that call."

"... I don't… think that's true", Nate replied. "You're telling me you knew you'd be walking out of that base when you came for us?"

Did I? "I never thought about it."

He nodded. "And I don't think whether or not something is easy for you means it doesn't mean as much as if someone else did it. Damon, it would be so easy for you if you did what she", Nate jerked his head toward Castle's body, "wanted. Don't have to worry about other people, you could do whatever you want, and you would never have had to go through all this. But you didn't. Even from the start, the version of you I met still cared enough about people to end up making the changes you have." He nodded. "Yeah, I think that's it. I wouldn't say what you do is any more praiseworthy than what Able and Vince did, but you still making the decisions you do when doing something else would make your life easier means they matter too." The ex-soldier huffed. "You just happen to make a lot more of those life-changing decisions."

I wanted to disagree- I wanted to argue. It couldn't be that simple. Because it would be easier for me to not care, to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted instead of doing things like helping set up the Minutemen, it means what I do is important?

But it made sense. I don't know much about history, but I know enough to remember a lot of it consisted of powerful people exploiting everyone around them.

"Let me put it to you another way", the ex-soldier said. "It would have been very easy for you to be the Raider version of the Codmans, and you didn't." He held up his hands and began counting off on his fingers. It wasn't until then I realized the dressing he had on the right one was new. "You could have continued killing prisoners to get us out. You could have left us to die. You could have left the settlements on their own to fight against the Brotherhood, Institute, and Raiders. You could have wiped out the Railroad. You could have left me here when we first met. You didn't do any of those."

Sure, I could have done all those things. I didn't do them because- "It- those things all felt like the wrong thing to do at the time."

My friend nodded again. "And that's why I think what you do is important. It's why this realization has been so difficult for you. It's why you didn't want to accept there was nothing you could do for your family."

"Because", he lowered his hands, "whether you want to admit it at the moment or not, you're a good person."

A good person? Am I a good person? Do I get to think that about myself now? After everything I've done?

I ran through everything he listed. All of that was true, I didn't need to do any of them. Hell, if I hadn't done any of them, not only would my life have been a lot easier, I might even be back in my universe by now.

Doing those things would have felt- wrong.

Is that what he's talking about? The fact I did those things for others, despite it making my life harder?

But I've still killed people since coming here. A lot of people.

Yes, but I've known why and, for the most part, they were people who probably deserved it.

What about Goodneighbor?

That was a mistake. One I still feel guilty for.

My guilt won't bring the people who died back.

No, it won't. All I can do about that is make sure it doesn't happen again.

That won't make the guilt go away either.

And it probably never will.

So then… if I did something I'll always feel guilt over, and innocent people died because of my actions, how can I be a good person?

… I don't know.

"Do you really think that?" I asked so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Damon, even if you ignored all of that stuff for right now", Nate replied. He was smiling. "You threw yourself to the wolves to come get us. I might not know what the past you did, but I know you. I could not be more proud to call you my brother."

"My brother."

My chest welled up with so much emotion so quickly, I couldn't breathe. I opened my mouth to respond but, even if my mind could have offered something to say, there was no way I would have been able to form the words.

My brother.

I've spent so much time staying as distant as possible. I've spent so much time pushing everyone and everything away.

Now I know why: because I was afraid. Because I am afraid. I- I don't want to lose anyone again. But I know- I know better than anyone- that's an inevitability, especially being what I am, even if that fear was subconscious until now.

So I kept everyone away. I protected myself by not letting anyone close.

Losing people couldn't hurt me if there was no one to lose.

These people here don't care. Even after how… awful I was to them in the beginning, after how I betrayed some of them, after how I tried to isolate myself. They wouldn't let me block them out.

Same with James, Amanda, and Liam. I was such an asshole to all of them. But they never gave an inch. They never stopped trying for almost a year before this happened. Liam never stopped cracking jokes, Amanda never stopped with her word games, and James never stopped sitting down to eat with me.

How could I throw that in their faces for so long? And how could they keep doing it so willingly?

"Why?" I managed to choke out as I felt my eyes fill with tears and my vision blurred. "You, Cass, Brenda, my squad- everyone. Why do you all keep giving me chances?" I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes. Tears started falling again. These ones were a stream.

There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I almost jumped when I felt something on the back of my neck.

When I opened my eyes, Nate was kneeling beside me. It was his hand on the back of my neck. He was still smiling. His eyes were glassy but he wasn't crying.

"Because you never got a chance. What happened to you wasn't fair. You're a good kid with a good heart."

A good kid with a good heart. My mind took me back to the library in the school. The Wizard of Oz. Brenda.

My jaw clenched and my eyes squeezed shut again. I let my head fall forward as more tears spilled. I struggled with the tightness in my throat for what felt like an eternity before I was able to take a harsh, sobbing breath.

That's how we spent- I don't really know how long. It was probably a minute or two at the most, but it felt like it could have been days. There was so much… shit I didn't know, so much I got wrong, so much I've done wrong. What am I supposed to think? This is three very different people, Fourier, Brenda, and Nate, meeting me at very different points, all telling me the same thing. How can I know they're right? How can they be right, considering what I've done?

I can't. All I can do is trust them. They all know what I did, especially Fourier. Even back then, he said he wanted to give me a chance.

Trust them.

Eventually, the tears started slowing. I raised my head and opened my eyes. Nate was wiping his.

"I'm-" I started but my voice was so thick with emotion, it was almost unintelligible. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"I know it can't fix what I did, but I'm sorry for killing Grant. If I could take it back, I- would."

Nate took a very deep, shaking breath and lowered himself to the dirt beside me. He leaned back against the other side of the tree.

"You don't need to apologize to me. I'm the one who put you in that position. If I hadn't-" his breath hitched but he struggled through it. "Hadn't betrayed you, you wouldn't have been fighting the Institute. You were doing the right thing, a good man was the victim of a lot of people doing the wrong thing." He looked over his shoulder at me. "I'm the one who's apologizing here. I'm sorry I made you choose between your conscience and what I wanted. And thank you for making the right call when I couldn't. Even with everything going on, you made the right call at the church."

"'Thank you'", I muttered. "Nate, I killed your friend."

The ex-soldier nodded. "I know. It's something I thought about a lot, especially when we were in that base." He shrugged again. "I still don't know how to feel, and I don't know if the others have made peace with it. They don't have our- uh- our history. There's no way you could have known. Same with what I said about your past: a lot of stuff was out of your control. Doesn't mean you aren't responsible for what you do. It just means circumstances played a role too."

A lot was out of my control? I chose to stay and ambush them instead of escaping. I recognized Grant wasn't a Synth when they were in the hospital.

But I thought the Institute was the enemy. I was right.

Even so… I knew Nate wasn't. There was the possibility anyone who wasn't a Synth was also with Li's group.

"I've never thought about the consequences…" I said quietly. "Killing someone's easy. But, once I've done it, there's no coming back. Grant is gone."

The ex-soldier nodded. "You're right. His life ended in that hospital and everything that goes along with that. Maybe the others are different but I- I don't know if I get to hold that against you. Not with my history."

I looked over at him. His eyes were fixed on the ground a few meters in front of him.

"It's hard, you know? You can't put into words or numbers what it means to kill someone." He huffed. It wasn't in amusement. "Doesn't mean people don't try, that's how they justify starting any war, but it's all bullshit. How do you quantify or qualify what it means to end a person's life?" Nate took a deep breath. "So, considering the information I have and how I feel about the situation, I'm choosing to forgive you because, unless I'm way off, you've forgiven me."

Had I forgiven him?

At this point, I don't think there's any way for me to not have forgiven him.

"I have." I turned and leaned back against the tree. What was left of Castle was still in front of me, blood and brain spreading from the mess that used to be her head, soaking into the dirt. "You know, I don't think I would have killed you."

Nate snorted. "That's good to hear, but… I'm not sure what that means."

"During my ambush. I wanted to but I knew, even back then, you weren't the person who would betray me like you did in the church. Not under normal circumstances. And I knew you weren't the type of person who would work with the Institute once you knew what they did. I was angry but I still knew you were probably working with Li." I huffed. "I didn't want to admit it to myself."

"Yeah", the ex-soldier said with a sigh. "I like to think I wouldn't have. What happened at the church was a wake-up call. It knocked me out of a funk I didn't know I was in. Sorry it took you almost dying to get my head back on straight."

I shrugged. "My DI wouldn't have considered a field exercise successful if I didn't almost die so..."

This time, the ex-soldier laughed. While it was still thick and a little choked, it was genuine. "That was pretty good. I know the type. After Cook got hurt, he turned drill instructor. Bet he would have liked yours."

Katrina. I don't know if I liked her or hated her. I don't know if I currently like or hate her. She put me through so much shit. Then again, if it hadn't been for that, I probably wouldn't be alive now. And Nate's right, if I wasn't alive now, here, things would be a lot worse for the Commonwealth. I guess I can take that credit.

"She was an asshole", I said.

"Aren't they all?" He groaned as he struggled to his feet. "I don't know if this is me getting old or what I just went through."

"Both."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Nate brushed the dirt off his pants and looked down at me. "Clean the blood off. I'll go talk to Preston."

Go talk with- "I can answer for what I did."

Nate shook his head. "Take it from me. Give yourself a little time, what you're going through isn't easy and it isn't going away anytime soon. Go on a walk. Don't try to think about it. You aren't gonna solve everything right now. Let me handle this", he motioned toward Castle's body. "Not like that bitch didn't deserve it." He smiled. "You know, you look a little like Cook. Maybe you're a distant relative."

Take a walk? Don't think about it?

That's probably a good idea. The world won't wait for me. He's been through this. If he says this will help, I should trust him.

"Yeah, from a different universe. We should run a genealogy check to see."

The ex-soldier's smile widened. "Looks like we found your sense of humor too. Give me half an hour. It'll be fine."

I glanced at Castle's body again. "Thanks."

"It's the least I can do."

With that, Nate trudged back toward Sanctuary, leaving me alone with the trees and the Raider's mutilated corpse.

Grabbing a handful of dirt, I scrubbed my gauntlets to remove the drying blood and bits of gray matter. I did the same with my helmet and stood.

So much has happened in the last… however long it's been since I woke up on that hillside over Concord. How I ended up being called a "good person" is beyond me, but Nate seems to think I am one, despite everything.

Would Fourier say the same thing? Or Cass? Brenda? Alex? Preston?

What would I do, start asking everyone?

My feet carried me to Castle's remains. Her head- what was left of it- was a mess. Her skull was completely crushed and everything inside was scattered on the dead leaves and brown dirt. Now that I took the time to look at what I'd done to her shoulder… the injury was pretty gruesome. It looked like someone had severed her arm just below the joint, set it beside her, and put a shirt on her.

… That must have been agonizing. I don't think I've ever done something like that to someone, even while torturing them.

Nate was right though: she deserved it. She deserved so much more. She'd destroyed lives, homes, and towns, captured, tortured, and killed people. She turned people into entertainment.

Guess she bit off more than she could chew.

It was a small comfort I could say that about myself. About the Minutemen.

There was a lot more work to do. Somehow, I have to do it. If I don't, a lot of good people will end up dead.

I slipped my helmet back over my head and sealed it with an almost imperceptible hiss.

Then I followed Nate's advice: I went on a walk. Not a patrol. A walk.

The morning was quiet and the forest was peaceful. There weren't as many animals as I assumed there should be in a forested area this dense but that wasn't a new observation. The sky was completely free of clouds and dull orange sunlight was streaming between the trees and through the canopy above me. It cast a pleasant pattern of shadows on the dirt crunching gently under my boots. The soft shadows swayed as the wind brushed the branches back and forth.

Did I deserve to have a peaceful morning? After what I'd come to realize? I don't know but… I don't know if punishing myself would do me any good. I can't undo what I've done. I guess… the best I can do is try to make up for it. Somehow.

Not that I'll ever be able to fix whatever damage I've done. Even if I knew what damage I'd caused and how much of it. So how do I move on?

Nate said I won't have all the answers. He doesn't, and he's had a lot more time and experience thinking about it. For now, I'll focus on making sure the people important to me now stay safe. I can't go back and protect my family- they're gone. No matter how much I wish that were different.

No, I can't keep sacrificing what's happening now for that. I can't keep hiding.

At least, this time, I didn't waste my opportunity. We didn't get everyone out. I was able to protect the people I care about. Just like I did at the church.

Mostly.

As a half-hour neared, I began meandering back to town. I ran into a patrol a hundred meters away from the armored shacks at the top of the hill. I recognized three of the five, one of them had been one of the men I'd relieved from watch after the Institute attacked Sanctuary last. I didn't remember his name.

They all greeted me as I passed. I replied with a nod and a quiet "hello".

What was I going to do about that? About- what I'm becoming to the Minutemen? It isn't as if I can blame them for how they look at me, as aggravating as it can be. If I were them, and someone like me was running around, fighting off Deathclaws, hitting Quincy, wiping out Raider strongholds and assault forces, and now, breaking into and out of the Raider's base of operations, I'd probably be impressed too.

Is it something I'll have to live with? Is it a bad thing? What about everyone else who made this all happen? I'm not the only one responsible for getting the support team out.

While I thought, I walked down the hill and across the bridge. More settlers were milling around town. I didn't have any way of guessing how many people were living there now but it was a lot. Enough that the main street was beginning to remind me of the first time I was in Diamond City.

Wow, that felt like another lifetime.

It was. Sort of.

That's true. A lot has changed since then.

What hasn't changed is people still stare at me and I still feel incredibly uncomfortable with people staring at me.

So, with more and more eyes turning to me every second, I hurried to Nate's old house and ducked inside.

The ex-soldier was there again, now with Dez, Danse, and Preston. Preston had been talking but, as soon as I stepped into the living room, he stopped, and all four of them turned to me.

Silence didn't have an opportunity to wrap itself around us before Dez crossed her arms. "So Castle's dead."

She didn't sound happy but… she wasn't upset either.

"Yeah", I replied, nodding. "Her body's a few hundred meters north of the Vault."

"Nate said her head looked like someone had run over a watermelon with a tank", Preston said.

"... Not too far off."

They both fell silent again, both staring at me. I wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought I'd be. No, killing Castle wasn't the right thing to do. She would have been a valuable source of information.

That being said… I don't know how reliable she would have been.

And I definitely don't feel bad about killing her.

"Did it hurt?" Dez asked.

I cocked my head. "Yes."

"A lot?"

"Yes."

The Railroad leader took a long, deep breath and uncrossed her arms. "Glad to hear it. I knew Able since he was born. Knew his parents too, they were a lot older than me, though. I'd like to say I helped teach him but, if I'm being honest, that man was way smarter than me. If Deacon asks, you make sure to tell him Able was my best scout." A sneer flashed across her face. "I wish I could have been there to see it happen. You have no idea."

I glanced at Nate. He shrugged and motioned back at her.

"Do you think she would have given us any reliable information?" Dez asked.

Would she? All Castle wanted was power, didn't matter how she got it. "Probably not. If anything, whatever intel she gave us would have been in the interest of gaining leverage. She would have tried to manipulate us."

"And that's why you killed her?" Danse interjected.

"No." I shook my head. "I killed her because I was angry and wanted revenge." Not the entire truth, but close enough.

There was the barest hint of a grin that flashed across the former Sentinel's face. "Can't say I was a fan of hers. My time there wasn't pleasant. Being back there…" he shook his head. "I didn't enjoy seeing that base again."

"Two prison breaks from the same prison", Preston said. "Well done. Which brings us to the next thing we wanted to talk with you about."

That was it? I just killed a major intelligence asset and… that's it? What did Nate say?

"I assume you've noticed your growing reputation", the Minuteman leader continued.

"Yes."

"Well… I don't know if you're aware how far it's spread." He looked at Nate for a heartbeat. "We know you aren't the biggest fan but it is useful."

It didn't take a genius to see where this was going. "How far has it spread? Why is it important? How do you want to use it?"

Preston cocked an eyebrow. "It hasn't spread to everyone who finds their way to one of our towns but… folks as far as New York have heard of you. Some of the stories they tell us are a little wild but", he shrugged, "that's what you get from word of mouth and probably some embellishment. Your latest accomplishment's only gonna make your reputation bigger."

Right. My latest accomplishment. As if I was the only one involved.

That's how these things work, unfortunately. People like a good story.

"Let me guess. You want to spread it more. You want to use me as a- What the hell would you call it?"

"Beacon", Nate suggested. It sounded too pretentious.

"You want to use me to attract the people you would want in the Minutemen and scare the people who would attack us."

"It makes sense", Dez interjected. "We've implemented as many counter-infiltration measures as we reasonably can with the time and resources available. If someone who wanted to attack us had to worry about the Minuteman's-"

"Yeah, I understand. I'm not dumb, I just don't like it." Use my reputation as a deterrent. Sounds like I'm turning into some kind of urban legend…

Nate and I just talked about this. It- I get that I can have a larger impact in the field during combat than a normal person, I do. Part of my problem is I don't want the attention. Another part is… it isn't fair. Other people in the Minutemen have worked harder, and given more, than I have. Yet here I am, the center of everyone's attention. What Vince did, what Able did, what Nate did- it's all getting left behind just because they aren't SPARTANs.

"Is there anything you need me to do?" I asked. I didn't do a very good job of hiding the bitter edge on my voice, not that I tried.

Preston shook his head. "We only need you to keep being you."

Keep being me. "... Right."

"Other than that, how are you feeling?"

Physically? "I have strains in my shoulder, hip, and knee. I'll be limited for a week and won't be healed for two or three. My armor's shields are out, and I should probably take some time to rest."

The four of them exchanged glances.

"Shields…?" Dez asked.

"The energy barrier you see when I'm hit by gunfire. The power couplings that supply energy to the capacitors are dead." The information was just that, information, but I'd be lying if I said the… development didn't concern me. Those shields have stopped a lot of damage from getting to both me and my physical armor. "Without them, my armor's operational lifespan gets a lot shorter."

Preston frowned. "Is it something we can have Sturges take a look at when he gets back?"

I was shaking my head almost before the question was finished being asked. "He's unfamiliar with the technology and design." And I've only ever had two technicians touch my armor. It may have been naive, especially given the circumstances, but I don't know if I'm comfortable with anyone else working on it.

"That thing has to have digital storage", Danse said. "There are no schematics to assist with field repair?"

He was right on both accounts; the armor had substantial storage and a full set of schematics, both mechanical and electrical. They were heavily protected, for obvious reasons, but even so…

"I've operated without shields before."

"True, but the last thing we want is for you to be compromised," the former Paladin said, squinting at me, something like doubt in his frown. "Then again, we aren't well-equipped. It may be safer to wait until we have more suitable facilities and a technician experienced with working on power armor. I'm sure you'd feel more comfortable with that as well."

Did he know? I cocked my head at Danse.

He might. He had his own armor when he was with the Brotherhood. He might know what it's like.

"Yes", I replied, nodding.

"You're sure you can do this and still be as effective?" Dez asked.

"Yes", I repeated.

Preston nodded. "Alright. I don't know about you guys but I'm ready for a little break. It's been nonstop for the last week", he shot Nate and me a wry smile. "Not that we've been doing much compared to two. And you, Danse."

"What?" the former soldier asked. "I sat nice and safe on a hill, checking in a few times a day."

The Minuteman frowned but he didn't argue. "Get some food and some rest."

Food sounded good. Rest sounded better.

Nate started toward the door, stopping when I caught his arm as he passed. "Where's Cass?"

"She's with Dogmeat in the house you had us stay in when I first came back." He nodded in that direction. "I'll grab us all some food and meet you there."

"Okay", I said and released the smaller man's arm. He and Danse both filed out.

There was one thing I wanted to ask before I left. I'd almost forgotten about it during the events of the last ten days but…

"Preston, you said 'when Sturges gets back'. Is he still investigating that sickness?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. Last I heard from him was a day ago. Said the symptoms were like rad-sickness but- well he was saying other people were catching it."

"Catching it?"

"Yeah", Preston said, rubbing the back of his head, "I know. That's what's got Sturges worried. It's what's got me worried. Look, I know you wanna be in the loop but all I know at this point is we've heard about it in 14 different settlements and one or two people have died from it. We don't know what's causing it and don't know where it came from."

Virology isn't something I have any experience with but that didn't sound normal. Or natural.

"If something new comes up, you'll be the first to know", Preston continued before I could say anything. "You just had a hell of a week and you kicked the Raiders in the balls. Take some time, get yourself right, and we'll keep moving forward."

Not like I can shoot a virus… "Thanks."

The Minuteman barked a laugh. "That's funny. You're the one who keeps pulling people out of the fire." He waved at the door. "Now get outta here. I need to eat too."

I smiled behind my visor. He'd come a long way since I first asked him to restart the Minutemen—all of us had, including me.

Turning, I ducked back out of the door and into the morning sun. I caught more stares as soon as I was outside but, unlike last time, none of them made in my direction. Maybe they figured out I didn't want to be bothered by people I don't know.

Nate had said Cass and Dogmeat were in the house we'd kept him and the Institute scientists in. It was a smaller, brown one a few houses south. I got a few 'hello's as I walked- or maybe 'limped' was a better word- toward it.

With everything that had happened and everything that was going through my head, I hadn't had a chance to check on Cass. She'd been healthy when we arrived last night but that didn't say anything about how she was doing. If Brenda getting injured was hard on me, it must have been worse for her. The two of them had gotten close during our time together.

And I couldn't lie to myself; I missed Dogmeat. He was useful. And friendly. And pleasant to be around. Unless something was happening, he always seemed to be happy. I wasn't the only one who liked him either.

As I walked, I noticed there were a few people with dogs milling around in the settlers. I guess it shouldn't come as a shock. It isn't as though Dogmeat is the only dog around.

When I peered into the house, it seemed as if the entire thing had been turned into sleeping quarters. There must have been 25 beds inside. They'd even pulled the walls out to make more space, only leaving the structurally relevant supports in.

Cass was at the back, sitting on a bed, Dogmeat lying on it with her. She was idly stroking the large German Shepherd's back. Her face was blank, staring at him as if she wasn't really looking at anything. No one else was in the house, probably out taking care of their daily responsibilities.

My responsibilities are done. For now, at least.

That's right. I'd done my job, sort of.

I ducked through the door and didn't make it a single stride before Dogmeat's head shot up to look at me. Before I could take another stride, he'd bolted from his spot on the bed beside Cassandra and hurtled between the beds toward me. He let out a single, loud bark and launched himself at me.

"What the hell?" I managed before the large dog slammed into my chest. I caught him and he started scrambling in my arms, making odd, half-yelling, half-barking sounds.

What's happening here? "Calm down."

That didn't do anything to stop the display, so I knelt and set the writhing dog back on the floor.

He barely hit the ground before he was up again, bounding around me, still making the same strange sounds.

"He's excited to see you", Cass said. She was standing beside her bed now. "That's all." Her face still had the same, distant stare as when she'd been sitting with Dogmeat.

As if to confirm, Dogmeat stopped in front of me, tail wagging so hard it shook his entire body, and let out another incredibly loud bark.

"At least someone's happy", I muttered and set my hand on his head. He rubbed himself on it as much as I was petting him.

After what felt like an appropriate amount of time spent indulging the large German Shepherd, I stood and started toward Cass, Dogmeat on my heels.

"How are you doing?"

She frowned. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I was never in any danger." Her voice was strange. I hadn't ever heard her sound so… distant, not even when the Brotherhood took Julian.

"I'll be fine after some rest", I said as I came to a stop in front of her. The eyes she looked up at me with weren't seeing anything. "Cass?"

"I'm okay. You all did the fighting, not me."

I cocked my head. "There's still something wrong."

Tactful.

Cassandra opened her mouth but stopped short of saying whatever she had intended to. Her eyes focused on me a little more and she frowned.

"... Yeah", she mumbled. "This- I don't know how to deal with this."

That didn't narrow it down, but I had my guess. "It's hard to see someone you care about get hurt." The experience was a relatively new one for me. I remember the first time I was genuinely distressed when an ally got hurt after Nate took a bullet in the back during KLEO's ambush.

Killing her- it hadn't been like killing Castle, but that didn't mean it wasn't cathartic.

Cass opened her mouth again and, again, no words came out.

That's a feeling I've started becoming familiar with.

"It's alright", I said quietly, "you don't have to say anything. I know." And I did. "Brenda's my friend too."

There was a brief moment of silence, the only sounds drifting in from the front door.

Then Cass wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled herself to me.

"Everyone important to me gets hurt or killed." Her voice was muffled by my armor but, even so, I could hear the anguish. "Even you."

The shift in emotion, from Dogmeat's jubilation to this, was so sudden, it was almost shocking. It would have been shocking if I hadn't just gone through my own conversation with Nate and I hadn't already been thinking about this.

Even so, the last time I saw Cass this upset, Julian had just been taken. I hated seeing her like this.

What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do?

"Hey", I said. Pulling her away, I knelt so we were more or less at eye level. "I got hurt", I shook my head, "but I'm not going anywhere. And I will get Julian back."

She blinked, long and slow. Then she threw her arms around my neck. "I believe you", she said into the side of my helmet, so much emotion clogging her voice I had to imagine it was close to what I sounded like half an hour ago.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get Brenda out uninjured." I wrapped an arm around Cass and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I feel so bad for Corey", she said.

"Yeah…" I hadn't even been there when she'd been shot.

Before either of us could say anything else, Dogmeat decided he'd held his excitement in check long enough. The large dog reared back and propped his front paws up on my leg. From there, he began licking the side of Cass's face.

She started laughing.

"Thanks, Dogmeat that- eugh- that's enough."

He wasn't interested in listening this time. He continued licking until Cassandra pushed herself away from me, wiping her eyes.

"Do you- have you seen someone get hurt like that before?" she asked.

I shook my head again. "Getting hit in the head in a spot you can survive is rare. She's lucky."

"Couldn't they give her a Stimpak?"

It's possible. I've seen whatever the hell is in that injector do some amazing things. But it's also likely that wouldn't help. A serious injury to the head like that- the repair work that needs to happen is probably beyond whatever a Stimpak could do. It might be why they haven't done it.

"I'm not sure with a wound like that", I said. "A gunshot wound to the head is… messy. 'Surgery to fix' kind of messy. I'm going to do everything I can to get her help." What if Li could help? I didn't say anything about that. Getting anything out of the Institute would be next to impossible. Expecting some form of assistance outside of their weapons and supplies was unrealistic.

"Are you saying she still could die?" Cassandra asked.

As much as I didn't want to answer that, not answering would tell her just as much. "Yes. She could. There's- head injuries of any kind are difficult. It isn't the damage you see. Bullets, even lower velocity ones like the one that hit her, can cause compression waves soft tissue doesn't do well with. And that's on top of the impact itself, kinda like if someone threw a rock at your head as hard as they could. I- want to tell you I know she'll be alright, but-"

"You don't know", she finished.

"I don't know", I echoed.

The image of her lying against the car came back to mind.

How could I have not been there for her?

If only I didn't know the answer. If only I didn't know my presence alone wouldn't guarantee she hadn't been hit. Able is evidence of that.

Cassandra smiled at me. It was forced, evident from the still-present strain in her neck. "You're making a habit of doing some… pretty impossible things. This- I don't think Brenda's gonna stop fighting, so you should be able to do this too."

That type of hope can be dangerous. Putting too much faith in anyone can be.

But I wanted to believe her. Not just because it would hurt her if Brenda died.

Because I don't want Brenda to die.

Maybe I can let myself believe, just this once.

"Right", I said, nodding. "I have a few ideas. It'll take some time, but I'll get it done."

As I stood, my leg reminded me it was still unhappy about dropping the equivalent of an APC on myself, and then spending another hour fighting. Cass must have noticed the hitch in my movement.

"Are you alright?"

"Not at the moment", I said. "I'll be compromised for the next week."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "That wasn't an answer. Are you alright?"

That was a little more complicated. Physically? I've had injuries much worse. It didn't feel good, but I'd get over it.

Mentally?

"A little messed up. I have a lot I need to think about."

Cass uncrossed her arms and her frown deepened. "What is it?"

Did I want to go back through this again? Not really. Not now. "It's something I need to sit with for a little while."

"Damon, you shouldn't ignore something if it's bothering you."

If someone who didn't know us saw this, they'd probably find the scene concerning. A girl scolding someone three times her size, in power armor. It made me smile. Like Nate, and I guess me, despite everything she's been through, Cass still has a fire.

"I appreciate the concern but I'm not", I replied. "It's not something I'm sure I can put into words yet. Don't worry, I'm not… hiding from things anymore."

The teenage girl squinted up at me and it lookedlike she was just biting back something else she wanted to say. After a moment where the struggle between saying it and letting the topic go was so clear on her face, she might as well have written it, Cass relented with a nod.

"Okay. I believe you." She sat back down on her bed and rubbed her eyes again. Dogmeat sat beside it, staring up at me, panting gently. He sure seemed happy I was back.

"So what next?"

"A few days' rest", I said as I walked to the wall her bed was up against and slid into my own sitting position. "Then it's back to it. I've been out of the action for a week. A lot can change in that time."

Footsteps were approaching the front door. Only one set. Probably Nate.

"Are we going back out?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. I'll have to get more info from the others."

Sure enough, the ex-soldier strode through the door carrying a box full of food. "How are you three doing?"

While Dogmeat wasn't as animated as when I walked through the door, he still excitedly greeted Nate with his own series of barks.

"Hi bud", the ex-soldier said as he set the food down and knelt to play with the German Shepherd. "It's good to see you too."

"As good as can be expected", I replied.

"Well, I say we take today to relax. No patrols, no questions about the state of affairs", he looked up from Dogmeat to us, "just a quiet day."

… I'd be lying if I said that didn't sound good.

A/N: With everything that's been happening over the past ohhhh 30 chapters, I thought it would be good if everyone got a little break. It's been nonstop for so long, writing something quieter, peaceful, and maybe even a little emotional felt overdue. This is one of my favorite chapters. I very much enjoyed writing it and I've read it several times. I don't know if there's another chapter I've spent more time editing. Damon might be the story's focus, because it's told from his perspective, but it was fun exploring some of the emotions and struggles other people around him are going through. A little bad news, however, I'll only be posting one chapter in July. I'll be traveling a lot so I won't have as much time to write. Should be back to regularly scheduled programming come August. Until next time!

Next Chapter: 7/5, On the Horizon