A/N: Well hello there, everyone. Welcome back to the land of the insane. We left off trying to do a little feel-good, considering the situation. Not that there's much feel-good to be had at the moment, but still. Now we have to figure out what to do about this situation! Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 95: Responsibility

There was a knock at the door. Nate's head shot up as the sharp pound pulled him out of his musings.

Valentine stood from his chair and paced to the door. When he swung it open, Damon was standing outside.

This can't be good…

He was looking over Nick at the ex-soldier.

"Hey, Damon", the detective said. "Do you mind giving us a few more minutes?."

Something in his posture, maybe the way his shoulders weren't drawn back like normal, said whatever he was there for wasn't good.

"No… I think we're okay", Nate said. "What's up?"

The SPARTAN looked between the three of them. It was all Nate needed to know this was about Shaun.

"A radio broadcast just went out on all frequencies. Everyone in the Commonwealth with a receiver heard it," Damon replied, his voice low. "Shaun claimed responsibility for the disease. He said they wouldn't provide treatment until the Brotherhood is gone."

The words took a few seconds to process. Nate's mind ran back over what Damon had said, trying to make sense of it.

Then it did it again.

And a third time.

And, finally, it registered.

Nate's heart tried to climb out of his throat.

It was one thing to speculate about what was going on. They had evidence to suggest this whole thing was the Institute. Nate knew, more likely than not, it was the Institute.

But it was entirely different to hear his son had come on an open broadcast and told the world they were responsible for spreading a drug-resistant bacteria into the Commonwealth. It wasn't like Damon would lie, so he couldn't even fool himself into thinking this was some kind of manipulation.

The message confirmed their intent, however. To drive the Brotherhood out. Everyone already hated the Institute, they were the Commonwealth's boogieman so this wouldn't change public perception. What it would do is turn people against Maxson and his professed mission. They'd been telling people they were there to free everyone from the Institute. Not only had they not done that, now a disease was spreading around their communities.

He didn't know how many it would impact, but it would have an impact. That might be all the Institute needs to begin a real offensive. If that happens…

Nate was marching up the hill toward the Vault with Damon a minute later. The SPARTAN hadn't said anything since they left Nick and Ellie's agency. Not much to say, really. They both had known the likely cause. It didn't change what they had to do.

At least, he told himself that's why Damon was quiet. Nate didn't want to believe he had somehow become the concern when, outside of a few weeks, that had always been the armored supersoldier.

Three guards were at the Vault's perimeter gate. They hadn't heard the broadcast, unlike most of the Minutemen down in Sanctuary.

It had almost been a fight to get across the bridge. That was probably another part of Father's intent: panic. Panicked people aren't good at creating and executing plans. Panicked people are exploitable.

Shouting and shoving, and people screaming questions at him and Damon. It wasn't out of anger, not that Nate could see. Everyone looked afraid. Why wouldn't they be after hearing that?

The ex-soldier squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath as the elevator appeared.

They stepped on and, as the platform lurched into motion, Nate heard a now-familiar tick tick tick coming from his right. When he looked, Damon was holding his rifle, his right index finger tapping against the lower receiver just in front of the trigger.

With most people, he would assume they were nervous or uncomfortable. When the SPARTAN got nervous, he got quiet and still. It was an instinct Nate knew well, even shared to an extent.

No, he was holding the rifle because it was familiar. That was a resting position for him.

Damon was thinking.

After a few more taps, the armored titan noticed Nate looking at his hands.

"What's on your mind?" Nate asked.

His friend didn't respond. That couldn't be good.

"If it's about Shaun, just say it."

Still no response. What the hell is going on here?

The ex-soldier's eyes shifted from the rifle to Damon's visor. "It can't be worse than any of the other shit that's happened in the last few months."

Now Damon was so still, if Nate didn't know, for sure now, there was a person in that armor, he might have thought it was a statue. And, whatever he was thinking, he didn't want to say.

Whatever had him that nervous put Nate on edge.

"... Alright", he said as the platform thudded to a stop at the bottom of the shaft.

Damon didn't wait for the ex-soldier; he started forward and crossed the bridge connecting the elevator to the Vault's entry. The trio of guards there were also too calm to have heard the broadcast.

He could hear talking from up ahead. It was too muffled to make out any words, but it was loud and angry—multiple voices—and it sounded like arguing.

The shouting became clearer as Damon keyed the sliding door to the main hall open. He still couldn't understand what was being argued about. Those voices were Dez and Preston.

That isn't good. We don't need them going at it.

The SPARTAN ducked through with Nate right behind.

Nearing the living quarters they'd converted into their command center, their voices slowly became intelligible.

"- matter what we think", Preston's muffled shout came through the door.

Damon stopped in front of it and keyed that one open, too.

"The people out there don't know what we're planning!"

The door hissed open to Desdemona's retort. "And if we don't keep it that way, someone who isn't supposed to figure it out will!"

Both of them were standing beside the table they'd been gathered around 45 minutes ago. Their heads twisted toward Damon and Nate as they entered.

Their arrival wasn't enough to derail the ongoing argument.

"You don't think the Institute doesn't already know?" Preston snapped back. "They know we have Nate, Damon, and the Railroad. They know we have people inside their facility. They know we'll at least send Damon after them. The Brotherhood does, too, even if they have their own plans. And the Raiders are probably still licking their wounds. We haven't seen any activity from them since the breakout."

Desdemona threw up her hands. "So what are we supposed to tell everyone? 'Don't worry, we sent Damon'?"

"Why not? That would calm some people down."

"What do you think he is?" The Railroad leader flung an arm in Damon's direction. "What do you think everyone else thinks he is? You think they all believe he's some kinda supernatural monster who can just will Father to death? People aren't stupid, Preston. You say something like 'We sent Damon', you'll get more questions than you want to answer. I know you know this. It's the same thing you did when our people got captured."

Preston leaned forward and put his hands on the table. His head dipped down so far it looked like his hat was about to fall off. "I know that's what I did." His voice was low. "That was a different situation. That was a team, this is the entire Commonwealth. People are scared. No one knows what's happening or what will happen to them and their families."

Nate's breath caught in his throat. Families… how could Shaun do this?

Even if he didn't feel the same way about what happened as Nate, he knew Shaun was unhappy about what had been done to him, to them. So how could he justify doing this?

They had the FEV program and he never shut that down. Virgil had to escape to get it mothballed.

Whatever morality Nate wanted to imagine his son had, he couldn't. Father didn't see people as people. Not the ones up here, anyway. He had to stop trying to apply the same standard he did to himself.

"I understand that", Desdemona said. "Sometimes, as a leader, your job isn't only to lead. You have to make a decision that you feel is wrong because you know it's the right thing to do. If we give anyone a hint of what we end up doing, we shoot ourselves in the foot. This is about saving as many people as we can."

Damon stepped forward. "If Li has a lead on an infiltration, give me a week."

When Preston turned to the SPARTAN, he looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, a tired frown creased his mouth, and his shoulders were slumped.

"I still don't even know if we're sending just you. We can't keep relying on you to pull our asses out of the fire", he replied. "How can we call ourselves Minutemen if a guy from a different universe is the only reason we're relevant?"

"I'm not here to comfort you; I'm here to do a job. We're on a short timetable and we have one chance to accomplish an incredibly high-risk and high-leverage operation. I'm one of six people here who have intimate first-hand knowledge of the facility and its layout. I'm the only person experienced in high-level assassinations and your best combat asset. More people won't make this any more likely to succeed. If you want to let your ego get in the way, you're in the wrong game, and I asked the wrong person to do your job."

…

…

Holy shit, Damon.

Preston shoved himself away from the table and marched up to the armored titan. The exhaustion had been replaced with fire so suddenly he looked like an entirely different person.

"You're goddamn right you asked me to do this. Because you can't. And I've done a damn good job. Do you know how much time I spend working with these people? How much time I've spent putting plans together? How many goddamn days I've walked from town to town, talking with people, trying to get them on board with our program?"

His head whipped around to look back at Dez. "So I'm sorry my first instinct is to comfort them. I'm so goddamn sorry I want to make sure they don't feel like everything they do has been a waste."

Preston turned back to Damon. "That they don't feel like they have to wait on you to bail us out of another bad spot."

Once he was finished, silence crashed down on the room like a wave. It was deafening. The Minuteman leader's glare was drilling into Damon. Between his narrowed, bloodshot eyes and fists clenched so tight his arms were trembling, Preston didn't just look angry, he looked hurt. Damon asked him to lead the Minutemen, yeah, but Preston has done a great job. If almost anyone besides Damon or Dez said that, it would have been something Preston ignored.

It wasn't anyone else.

Should Nate step in? Would it help if he said something? Dez wasn't and she knew Preston a hell of a lot better than him. Her face was expressionless, watching the two of them without a hint of emotion. It was a look he knew well when someone was doing everything they could to keep their feelings put away.

"This isn't about anyone waiting on me", Damon replied. "Who else are you sending to do this? Who else do you have? Are you going to stop me so someone less likely to succeed can go instead?"

Where the hell is this coming from? The SPARTAN had been… so much more understanding with other people. It's something Nate was proud of. Now- this felt like when the two first met. When Nate was trying to talk to him on the main bridge and he'd walked off on the conversation.

"I'm here to handle things like this", he continued. "It doesn't matter if something different would have happened if I wasn't. I am. I can do something about this situation. If you let whatever this is stop you from taking the best option available, you're giving the Institute the advantage. I worked for an organization like theirs for a long time. If you give them anything, it's over."

Preston was still glaring up at Damon. He wanted to argue; Nate could see it. The man was so angry he looked about ready to explode. The ex-soldier didn't know where this Damon had come from. Why it was coming out here. There were better ways to handle this situation. The SPARTAN knew that. He'd done it before.

"So you don't care how else it might impact everyone", Preston growled. "You don't care about anything but getting to the Institute and killing their leadership? What about people leaving? Running from the Commonwealth because a disease is heading our way. Do you know how many of our people would die if that happened? How much of what we've made would get wiped out?"

He waved an arm at the door behind them. "You think these people like sitting around while you do their fighting? A lot of them feel helpless. They see us relying on you for every big fight. That matters."

There was a brief pause and Nate caught the tension building in Damon's neck and shoulders, even through his armor.

"That is what I do, Preston. I fight. It's what I was made to do. It's all I've ever done. What the hell do you want me to do instead? Sit here and make people feel safe? The SPARTAN is around so everything will be alright?" He jabbed a finger into the smaller man's chest. "You might want to use me as some figurehead, but that isn't what I am. And if that's how you think of me, I don't need you or the Minutemen. I'll do it on my own."

Nate's head was spinning. Damon, leave the Minutemen? He wouldn't do that. Nate knew he wouldn't. And saying he was made to fight? That's the opposite of what he told Castle back at the base. Preston wasn't suggesting Damon not go; he'd told Nate the opposite a little while ago.

Nate needed a minute to figure out whatever was going on as much as the others.

"Time out", he said, stepping beside the two.

Damon's head snapped to him. "I don't need your help."

The ex-soldier's first instinct was to snap back. He's never liked being talked down to. While that might feel good for a second, it would only make things worse. When the armored titan got something in his head, it wasn't getting pulled out. Backing him into a corner would only make him lash out.

"You've been acting strange since you came to get me", Nate said softly. "I think I, of all people, deserve a little consideration here." He met Preston's gaze. "Just give me a minute. Please. Everyone is wired right now."

After a heartbeat's pause, the Minuteman leader took a deep breath and gave a single, curt nod.

Nate turned toward the door and grabbed the SPARTAN's wrist. His arm didn't budge. It felt like he was pulling on a statue. Damon's visor was still locked on him. Nate expected to feel the same aggravation or anger he had from the supersoldier on occasion… but he didn't. He was upset; that was pretty obvious. It wasn't that, though.

Jerking his head toward the door, Nate gave his arm another tug.

Damon relented a moment later and followed him out into the hall.

Back here again… He needed to figure out what was going through the SPARTAN's head. He wasn't wrong, Damon was the right person to send on this mission, and a larger team would not only slow him down, it might become a liability for him in combat. This, though- they needed to sort this out before they left. He was more keyed up than he had been when they left Sanctuary to negotiate with Diamond City and Goodneighbor.

There was somewhere he knew was a safe start.

"I appreciate you want to take part in this because of me. It-" he grimaced. "It means a lot that you care this much. That isn't all that's going on here. You said you were made to fight in there. We both know you don't think that. So what's up?"

He clasped his hands together and jammed them down on top of his helmet. It was a surprisingly humanizing expression. "This… is all so fucked up." It was so quiet the response might as well have been a whisper.

"... Yes. It's hard to disagree. Care to explain?"

He turned his head to look down the hall toward the entrance. "There's a kid out there, Charlie. His parents were killed and he has severe radiation poisoning. I don't know how he's still alive. The planters on the main road are his. He's been tending them since he got here."

Damon's shoulders shifted and his chest rose as he took a deep breath. "That one with the flowers is… beautiful. Everything that kid's gone through and he can still make something like that. He still wants to make something like that."

"Yeah. I saw it", Nate said, nodding. Like many others, he stopped to admire it several times since they'd been back. 'Beautiful' was the right word.

"That's someone people should admire," Damon continued, looking back down at the infantryman. I can't do anything like that. I didn't do anything like that. But people still look at me like some idol while they walk past those planters and might think, "That's nice." If he catches this disease, he'll probably die. If I do, I probably won't notice. How is any of that right?"

… Oh… Now I get it.

Nate shook his head. "You can't compare yourself to him. That isn't fair to either of you." He pounded the side of a fist against the armored titan's chest. "And you are strong, Damon. More than physically. It's just hard to tell that to and about ourselves, sometimes. It doesn't matter how long it took you to get there. Like I said the other day, you threw yourself into the fire to get us out. You don't do that just because you're afraid."

Silence drifted across the hallway momentarily as the two friends watched each other. The ex-soldier meant every word, and he knew Damon could tell.

The SPARTAN's hands drifted down from his helmet back to his sides. "Yet I'm here, making this about me when you're the one who has a real investment."

A sad smile slipped across Nate's face. "It's because you care. There's nothing wrong with that."

Damon's helmet shook like he was trying to get rid of a thought. "Are you alright?"

Nate shook his head again. "No. Not really." His mind drifted back to what Ellie had said. "I don't know if I am or I will be and… that's something I'll have to deal with. It helps to know you care."

"I'm not the only one. You know that, right? Cass, Jackson, Jess… Brenda."

"Yeah, I know. Just like I know you're upset on my behalf." He pulled his fist away from Damon's chest and clapped him on the shoulder. "But even if I'm not alright, I know how I feel still matters. It will hurt to do this, I know. It would hurt more to not do it. To know I could have done something and didn't. I can't fix what happened, no matter how much I'd give to do it. I… don't know what I'm gonna do after all of this. That doesn't mean I'm not here to see what 'after' is."

Damon nodded slowly. "Sorry about this."

"You don't have to apologize to me unless you do something stupid. This wasn't stupid. Well- not completely stupid."

That got an amused huff out of the armored supersoldier. "Come on. I do need to apologize to Preston."

The two of them marched back into the room. Preston and Dez were standing at the table.

"You were right", Damon said as he came to a stop at the table. "That was out of line… I'm sorry. It's- you've all done so much. All I can do, for now, is fight. If that's all I can do, I want it to mean something."

The Minuteman leader frowned. "I'm not stupid enough to not send you on this. All I'm saying is it might be a good idea to send some help, and letting people know you're taking care of things might keep them from panicking. It doesn't just need to be you two."

Nate knew what was coming next. And he knew Damon would be right. Even if they were playing nice, it wouldn't take much to re-escalate the situation. Now wasn't the time for that.

"This is why you have us", Nate said. "Even if you feel cheated."

"… And you really don't think sending more people would be useful?"

The ex-soldier shook his head. "Familiarity and experience are almost always better than numbers. I think it's safe to say we know how to work together."

"He's right", Desdemona interjected. "Small team tactics rely on knowing how the people you're working with think and what they're going to do. During high-risk situations, you can't stop to talk things through, and you have to be confident everyone will make the same, right decisions."

Preston frowned. "How can we keep asking you to pull us out of the fire?" He looked at Damon. "You've been doing it since the day we met."

"You aren't asking", the SPARTAN replied. "The only thing like this you've ever asked me to do is bring the original group here. The rest I volunteered for. I'm volunteering for this, too."

"You think that's any different? You're still fighting our battles for us."

"The hell I am", Damon growled. "I'm a Minuteman. These are my battles."

"Th-" Preston stopped and blinked, long and slow. He, all of a sudden, looked very confused.

Damon tilted his head to the side.

"... yeah, you are. Not sure how I forgot about that."

The door hissed open behind them and Nate turned to see Isaiah and Jess hurrying through.

Jessica was barely in the room when she started talking. Madison told us where to find our lead, a third-generation prototype Synth. He's on an island about 200 miles northeast. There's a town there called Far Harbor. She said that's where we should start looking."

"Any intel on terrain, inhabitants, and potential dangers?", Damon asked.

"The island is small, 25 square kilometers at the most", Isaiah replied. "Rocky and wooded with a lot of hills. It's usually wet and rains frequently. A lot of the storm cells come in from further out in the ocean where the radiation isn't as bad, so that shouldn't be an issue. The people who live there… we don't know much about. All we know is there's the town, about the size of Goodneighbor, a group called the Children of Atom which, as far as we know, worships radiation, and the Synth's… organization. We aren't sure what that last one looks like. You'll run into similar wildlife dangers there as you do here, most of them being mutated sea creatures."

Worship's radiation?

As interesting and… strange as that might be, there was a more pressing question on the ex-soldier's mind.

Maine? "How are we getting to Maine? Taking the trucks over land would be too obvious and… who the hell knows what we'd run into. Too many risks and it would take too long. We don't have a Vertibird so we'll have to find a boat." Nate turned to Preston. "You wouldn't happen to know where we can get one of those."

The Minuteman leader cocked an eyebrow. "I… might… Before all the stuff with the Raiders happened, Nick wanted to get in touch with an old acquaintance of his. Apparently, they need help with their missing daughter. Things got busy and we couldn't spare the manpower."

"... And does this acquaintance have a boat?" Nate asked.

"Yeah. You'll have to get more details from him."

Damon and Nate exchanged a glance and the SPARTAN nodded.

There was something they still needed to sort out. "One sec. Preston. I understand why you want to let people know what's happening, but can I ask you to trust me and Damon? Let people know something's being done but, please, just give us a week." He looked at Desdemona. "You know how important secrecy is on an operation like this."

The Railroad leader nodded. "We'll come up with something and buy you whatever time we can."

Preston pulled his hat off and began fidgeting with it. "I feel like my hand is being forced here. People are scared and- I don't know…"

"Sometimes you have to shoulder that to do the right thing", Dez said softly.

It wasn't what Preston wanted to hear. His hands clamped onto the brim of his hat and his jaw clamped shut. All of them could see it as soon as the words left her mouth.

Nate understood, it was hard not to. He knew the feeling of panic and fear and not just from his days in the army. The moment Nora called him to the living room as reports of the first bombs falling came on was a wave of emotions he doubted he'd ever be able to process. Confusion, disbelief, and fear were the first and strongest.

And then they ran.

This wasn't the nuclear armageddon. That wasn't important. What was important was these people's lives could be ruined very soon and it was entirely out of their hands. What Damon, and by extension Nate, had just asked was for Preston to trust the two of them with everyone's lives and not tell them he'd done it.

How else was he supposed to react to this?

After what seemed like an eternity of quiet, Preston set his hat back in place, sucked in a deep breath, and nodded. "A week."

"Thanks", Nate replied. He wanted to say more but they didn't have the time.

With that, the four of them left the room and made their way out of the Vault. Emotions were running hot for everyone, it felt strange Nate was the one who was trying to keep the situation calm.

"It's just gonna be me and Damon, by the way", Nate said as the elevator thudded to a stop on the surface.

Jessica and Isaiah both shot him incredulous frowns.

"Two people?" Jessica asked. "You aren't coming back here once you find this Synth, right?"

"No." Nate shook his head. "Once we get our back door, we're going through. Keep working with Li, see if you can get them to run interference for us. Doesn't have to be violent, we just need time and space."

The other two fell silent. It stayed that way until they reached the north side of the bridge. Across, in town, there were still people hurrying around, shouting questions at- Nate couldn't tell who.

Preston was right… these people need something to calm them down. This isn't the Brotherhood or Raiders. Hell, it isn't even the Institute attacking us. This is a disease we can't treat.

"We're on it", Isaiah finally said.

Nate fished the radio out of his bag. "This won't have the range to reach here from Maine so I'm trusting you to get something set up. It'll have to be obvious enough-"

"Don't worry, we know the situation constraints. We'll get something figured out. Worry about what you have to do."

The ex-soldier took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright."

Damon took lead as they started across the bridge. As soon as the townsfolk saw them, a wave of people surged in their direction.

Oh boy…

"What's happening!?"

"What are you gonna do!?"

"How are we gonna survive!?"

"Why didn't you tell us about this!?"

If it weren't for the wall that was Damon at the front, Nate could imagine the crowd trampling them.

While they were clearly distressed, they still gave the armored titan space. The five of them trudged up the incline, questions being shouted in their direction the entire way.

Nate wanted to tell them they were handling it- or they were doing what they could to handle it. He understood their fear and frustration. He understood Preston's desire to help calm them down. Besides the danger that having a panicked population like this was, especially given they were at war, he knew what it was to be afraid like this. His and Nora's mad dash up the hill to the Vault right before the nuke wiped out their city.

He knew.

But as Damon forged a path through the screaming crowd, Nate kept quiet. It wasn't fair, and as much as he said they needed time and secrecy, they had to shoulder the same burden Preston did. They knew what was going on, they knew what their plan was, and telling these people might help assuage their fears.

They couldn't tell them, though. They couldn't give Father and the Institute any information.

A minute after stepping off of the bridge, they were back at Ellie and Nick's office.

"Go", Damon said and motioned inside.

He slipped through the door, Isaiah and Jess right behind him, while the SPARTAN stayed out front. It was… a remarkable feat from him. Considering how much he hated crowds and being the center of attention, that was a sacrifice for him.

He knows what's at stake here.

The house's two occupants were still behind their desks. Ellie was standing, a deep frown on her face.

"Everyone's panicking", Nick said.

Wow… what an observation from the detective. It took every piece of Nate's willpower to keep that thought a thought.

"You mind letting us know how bad this is?"

Nate frowned. Would it be fair for him to say what he had to Preston and then tell Nick? That felt like it might be playing favorites…

Even if it is, we need his help. If he knows someone who can get us to Maine, I don't have a choice. He's gonna ask anyway.

"Very. The Institute is spreading a bacterial infection that has a long incubation period and is drug-resistant. It doesn't usually kill people but, with how long they tend to stay sick, other things will. We have a lead on getting into the Institute. It's up north and our best option is to go by boat. Preston told us someone you know has one and they contacted you recently."

Valentine cocked a brow at him. "I do… what's the lead and where's it at?"

"A prototype third generation Synth-" Nate stopped, mouth open, staring at the detective.

"... Like you."

Aside from the questions being shouted by the crowd outside, the interior of the house was quiet. How had he not connected the dots? How had the three highly educated scientists and analysts with him not connected them?

"Do you know who this is?" Nate asked.

Nick's bright yellow eyes were fixed on the ex-soldier with a new intensity he hadn't seen from the man before. Ellie crossed her arms, frowning at her partner.

"I don't. I haven't thought much about my past for a while now. Where's this Synth at?"

"A town called Far Harbor or, that's where we're supposed to start, anyway. It's on an island off the coast of Maine, 200 miles northeast of us."

Relative silence drifted across the five of them while Nate and Valentine continued watching each other. The infantryman knew what was coming next. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could. Should they bring him? He is a detective and Damon worked with him to track down and kill Kellogg. Would he speed up the process? Would he be a liability in combat? Could they work around him being a liability?

Nick stood from his desk. "Give me 15 minutes to get ready."

"Nick", Ellie snapped, grabbing his arm as he tried to walk past. "I need you to promise you'll do whatever they tell you if things get messy. They know what they're doing. They saved you from the Triggermen already, don't make them pull your ass out of the fire again."

Nate hadn't heard her sound like that before.

The Synth nodded. "I promise."

"Alright." Perkins released his arm and the detective marched to the back of the house. She turned back to Nate. "I assume, since you didn't say anything, you're agreeing to take him?"

Had he? "We don't have time to argue about it. I don't think he'll give us the information we need without agreeing to bring him and he could be helpful."

"He said he hasn't thought about his past in a long time but… that's mostly because he's given up on figuring it out."

Ah. That makes sense. "We'll make sure he doesn't get roughed up any more than he already is. I'm gonna go let Damon know."

Nate turned back to the door, a thousand thoughts bouncing around in his head. There were two that stood out above the rest: 'success' in this mission would, in all likelihood, mean killing his son, and 'failure' would mean a lot of other people dead.

Outside, Damon was standing directly in front of the door, a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back and his posture so rigid, it looked like he was about to burst. The crowd in front of him had shrunk dramatically. Now there were, at best, a dozen people. They weren't shouting questions at the armored titan anymore. They looked angry and desperate. They were there because they didn't know what else to do.

"Damon", Nate said as he drew even with the SPARTAN. "Nick's coming with us."

"Understood", came the reply. It was strangely matter-of-fact. Bringing a third person was a major departure from their plan. Maybe he was comfortable with the detective's ability to contribute. Or maybe he knew Nick wouldn't give them the information they wanted without coming.

Whatever the case, Damon motioned at the small group of Minutemen. "I don't think you'll have any issues here. Get supplies for a week. I need to ask-" he glanced down at Nate. "I'm going to ask for a favor."

What the hell? Why was he, of all people, being cagey? "... Okay."

Damon nodded and left his post. He marched past the small gathering of people, half of which watched him walk past, the other half followed.

What's he up to?

It didn't matter—not yet. Nate had a lot of food, water, and clothes to pack.

X

Ten minutes later, Nate had two packs full of supplies. Along with the usuals, he had an extra 150 rounds of .308 for himself and whatever .300 he could find for Damon. They wouldn't have time to gather more and there was no guarantee they'd find more. He put that in the SPARTAN's pack. Nate was sure he wouldn't notice the extra weight.

Once that was done, all he had to do was wait. In his house. Memories of that day…

It had all started so normally, playing with Shaun and the little mobile he'd just hung for him, talking with Nora about the VA event he still wasn't sure he wanted to attend.

Then it was all over. And he'd woken up in this nightmare.

Shaun's crib and that mobile were gone. They'd been replaced with a small armory. Same with His and Nora's room. He knew, when they'd chosen his house to be the first one they armored and stored supplies in, they hadn't known it was his. Or that he'd come stumbling out of the damn Vault.

The part of him that still ached for the days before the bombs fell didn't care. This all still felt like… someone was spitting on graves that hadn't even been dug.

He took a deep breath.

It was the stress talking. Nate couldn't let himself fall into that. There were… a lot of things about this situation that weren't alright. A lot of things that would never be alright.

And that's okay.

Some people care enough to help me with it. I don't know if there's anything for me after this but I don't think I could be around people who would go further to help. Besides Cook and Nora.

Nick was the first one to arrive with Jess and Isaiah. The ex-soldier pulled himself out of his musings. He knew 'putting it away' wasn't healthy; Nora had lectured him enough about that for several lifetimes. He wasn't doing that. He couldn't do that, not with this.

But he did have a job to do.

"Where's Damon?" Valentine asked.

"Asking someone for a favor, apparently."

"Huh", he hummed. "Look, sorry I didn't ask before. This is something I've thought about for a looooong time. I didn't know there was another prototype out here. They might know something about me."

Nate nodded. "I get it." He huffed. "Believe me, I get wanting answers."

The detective opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. Instead, he just returned the nod. He was still wearing his customary outfit straight out of a 20th-century detective drama. On top of that was a pack and he had one of the Institute's new .308 combat rifles, much like Nate's.

It was an SR-25 pattern rifle with a few ergonomic adjustments. The one that took Nate the longest to get used to was the side-charging upper receiver. According to the engineers in the ARD, it was a better design. The ex-soldier still wasn't sold. Not like he had a choice in the matter.

"Where's Isaiah?" Nate asked the former Institute scientists.

"He's getting started on a plan. We don't know how long it'll take you guys to track down that Synth so we need all the time we can get."

Nate nodded again. "Copy that."

A few seconds later, Damon appeared in the doorway. He ducked inside followed by-

What the- "Uh… Helen?"

The former Knight stepped through the door. Her face was stern and her eyes locked on him.

"Your friend requested I allow you to borrow my armor", she replied, voice as firm as her expression. "The only reason I'm entertaining it is because he understands what kind of request that is. I need to know you understand."

Use her armor? It would cut out a lot of variables and allow him to fight more effectively. It would make him less of a liability to Damon in combat, especially once they were in the Institute. It also limited his options to, more or less, direct action. Unlike the SPARTAN and his armor, someone in T-60 had zero stealth capabilities.

On short notice, and a high-risk, fast-paced mission with a lot of unknowns, and with Nick tagging along now…

"I do." He looked down at his rifle. "I worked with armored units on plenty of missions. Their armor was their home." Nate met the former knight's eyes again. "My own kit was, and is, my second home. I had it with me almost every day for 17 years. Damon asking you to let us use yours is like someone asking to live in your house without you there to make sure nothing goes wrong. If you allow me to do it, I can't promise it won't be damaged, but I'll take care of it."

Her gaze fixed on him for a moment before she looked up at the SPARTAN. Something passed between them and Damon nodded.

"I know he understands mine."

Helen took a deep breath and turned back to Nate. "Alright. Damon told me we're taking a truck to another location about 30 minutes away. We'll need that time to make the necessary adjustments for you to use it effectively. You were trained on the Prydwen, yes?"

There was an instant of surprise before Nate settled in. It was time to get to work.

"I was", he said, nodding. And since when have they been taking one of the trucks?

"Good. I need a tape measure, an Allen wrench set, and a box wrench set."

"I'm sure Sturges will have some of that in his workshop. I don't know where else they store tools."

"Find them", Damon said. "We'll load the armor into the truck. Meet us at the Vault."

"On it."

Nate hesitated an instant, looking around what, 200 years ago, had been his home. It didn't matter how many times he told himself this life was gone, something in his brain couldn't let go of the idea this was a bad dream. He wanted it to be. Not just because he'd lost… everything. Because there was nothing he could have done about it. That might have hurt worse.

Another deep breath and he turned to Jess and Jackson. "I'll see you guys in a week or two."

Jess glanced at Damon. There was no doubt still some, or a lot, animosity. Nate understood and, he knew, so did the SPARTAN. Neither of them begrudged her that.

"Alright", she said. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Nate motioned to the two bags he'd packed. "Can you take these with you?"

Damon nodded.

And with that, Nate marched out of the house and toward Sturges's workshop to find the prescribed tools.

It didn't take long to find them, the engineer kept his area neat and organized. Both sets of tools were in a small, portable toolbox, along with a lot more Helen hadn't asked for. Nate took the entire thing, along with a tape measure, just in case.

Hauling the 60-pound metal box out of the workshop, he started toward the bridge.

It was a pain in the ass to carry that box and his kit up the hill but he'd done worse. Much worse. He arrived just as Damon pulled the vacant suit of T-60 into the back of the idling truck. Dogmeat was there too, sitting beside the truck's rear end, staring at Helen. It was… something he hadn't seen a person do before, considering the armor weighed something like 1200 pounds. It made Nate feel a little childish for complaining about a 60-pound toolbox.

Valentine must have been in the cab.

He shook himself out of the stare and lifted the much lighter toolbox into the truck. Helen pulled it open and sorted through the contents.

"This will work", she said, retrieving a tape measure. "Give me a minute to get some numbers."

The former knight worked quickly, measuring his arms, legs, torso, neck, chest, and joint positions. It was almost exactly the same as the tech had done on the Prydwen when he'd first been fitted for armor.

"That's enough for now", Helen said as she retracted the measuring tape and stepped away. "We'll have to make a few adjustments once we're stopped but I can get it in the ballpark."

Nate looked up at Damon, standing in the back of the truck. "We got everything?"

"Supplies, ammunition, field kit, Li's people are working on an intrusion plan, Preston and Dez are figuring the PR out."

That was… all they'd 'planned' for. This plan felt a lot more 'half-baked' than most. Nate wasn't comfortable with it. The problem was he didn't know what else there was to do. They didn't have time to do recon or gather more intel. They had a lead, they knew where they were going, and they had, hopefully, enough armor and ammo to get through whatever came their way.

Of course, having Damon along for the ride made the "we don't have a very good plan" part of an operation much more tolerable…

Still, doing this on such short notice and without the time to do any form of groundwork before starting another crazy operation wasn't how he stayed alive for almost two decades.

Not like I haven't been part of smash 'n grab missions before.

No, but none of them had been with three people and included infiltrating a high-security facility to assassinate several of its leaders.

The ex-soldier shook himself out of the thought. Even if he wanted to take more time to plan this out, they were operating on a clock. Unlike most, things would get exponentially worse the longer it took. "Sounds like we're set. It would be nice to figure out some way of communicating. Maybe this Synth can hook us up if they're willing to help in the first place."

Damon nodded. "One problem at a time."

"Yeah…" he looked at the cab. "I'm guessing I'm driving. Where are we heading?"

"I don't think Valentine knows how. The school."

That's as good a staging ground as any. It was far enough from the coast to avoid drawing attention to their destination, and it cut the walking down to about a third of the trip's distance—provided Valentine's contact wasn't too far north or south. Well, not south. He seriously doubted they'd be going to the city.

The ex-soldier grinned. "Probably not." He walked to the truck's cab and climbed in. Nick was already in the passenger seat. Uncharacteristically, the detective didn't say anything as Nate joined him.

A few seconds later, Nate heard a pound on the roof.

Shifting the truck into gear, he let it idle away from the Vault's elevator and down the hill, heading east. Going west would get them on the road quicker, but he didn't want to risk being spotted. Someone would have already seen them driving the truck up. If someone saw them with the armor in the back, it could give away too much information.

Nate had to be very careful, especially during this part of the trip. They hadn't strapped the armor down; they couldn't with Helen working on it. Yes, Damon was back there and could probably keep it from doing anything… harmful, but he'd rather not test it.

"So where are we going to get this boat?" Nate asked as he guided the truck around a cluster of trees. The ground under them wasn't as stable as he'd like. It made driving smoothly very difficult. They had a ways to go before they reached another river crossing.

"Fishing house up north. It's seven or eight miles up the coast from the airport."

Nate nodded. "Shouldn't be too far to walk, then."

"Says you", Valentine grunted. "You'll be nice and comfortable in that suit. You get to let it do your walking for you."

"Perks of the job."

The detective huffed. "What job?"

"I'll let you know when I figure that out."

It was about 15 minutes and 5 miles of trundling through the thinning forest before Nate found a point in the river shallow enough to ford comfortably. The hill had dropped to nearly the same level as the flowing water, leaving him a gentle approach angle into the three-feet-deep water. It was much wider at this point, to accommodate the shallower flow, but the truck handled it without any trouble. A minute later, they were up the other side and heading down the road.

They should be able to make it to the school in half an hour or so. That would give them… Nate glanced up at the sky. It would give them a few hours of daylight to reach Valentine's acquaintance.

It's a little crazy. This time the day before, they were on their way back from the city to report they had the go-ahead to use the Ghoul's basement. Now, they were about to take a boat from someone Nate didn't know to an island 200 miles away he'd never been to, looking for a third-generation prototype Synth hiding there so they could infiltrate the Institute.

Maybe it isn't that crazy, then. Compared to many other things that had happened, this was relatively tame.

Valentine's probable lack of a driver's license aside, Nate was the right person to get them to the school. He knew the area like the back of his hand. He'd grown up there, after all. He lived there once he was out. The landscape might look different, decidedly more destroyed and devoid of the regular population, but he still knew the way.

After half an hour of guiding the truck down cracked and damaged streets, avoiding as many built-up areas as possible, including three detours through forest, later, he stopped the truck just outside of the school's parking lot.

Damon jumped down from the back and walked around the truck. Dogmeat was pacing beside him as they started toward the school. The ex-soldier followed. They hadn't made it halfway across the parking lot before the school's front doors swung open and a group of well-armed guards hurried out.

They were waved toward the school and Nate kept behind Damon until they reached the sidewalk where the guards were standing. Pat was waiting at the front of the formation, the others scanning their surroundings.

As soon as the truck was stopped, Nate put it in park, killed the engine, and jumped out. Nick followed suit and the two of them hurried to the back.

Helen was there, struggling to replace the armor's massive chest plate.

"What do you need from us?" the ex-soldier asked.

"One sec", Helen grunted in response. With a herculean effort, she shoved the armor into position and fastened it down.

"Okay." She wiped her hands on her now dirty pants. "When Damon gets back over here to take this out, we'll need to run through a few diagnostics and test motions to make sure it won't break any of your bones, then we're good. Five minutes."

"Wait", Nate said slowly as realization dawned on him. "You're gonna be stuck here. Are you alright leaving your people on their own?"

The former knight shrugged. "We did this because we wanted to make sure the Commonwealth didn't collapse. Leaving them at Sanctuary is nothing compared to abandoning the Brotherhood. Preston said he'd have a patrol come this way to pick me and the truck up in a few days, once they could get things settled. It's part of the job."

"Fair enough."

A few seconds later, Damon emerged around the side of the truck, Pat and two guards trailing him. "We're set here."

He climbed back into the truck and moved to lower Helen's armor. She jumped out of the Truck's bed and backed away to give the SPARTAN room.

"Helen", Pat said, "I understand what's goin' on here and I want to lay a few ground rules. Long as you follow 'em, everyone will get along fine. We're gonna be keeping you in a room, don't worry, it ain't a prison and you'll be able to leave if you need something, with a few guards. All I'm askin' is you be understanding of that, you follow instructions, and you work with us, alright?"

Helen nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I can do that."

The school's head of security smiled. "I appreciate it."

Damon carefully slid the suit of T-60 out of the bed and lowered it to the ground. Nate thought he saw a hitch in the SPARTAN's motion about halfway down, his right arm tensing momentarily, but he couldn't tell for sure. The kid hid his injuries well enough, it was easy to forget he'd been hurt pretty bad less than a week ago. As much as the armored supersoldier might dislike it, Nate would have to ask about that.

The instant it was on the ground, Helen marched around it and twisted the small wheel on the armor's back. With a clank and hiss, the rear folded open to allow its user entry. Pat, and the other guards, crowded around them. It would make what they had to do much more difficult.

"A little space…" Damon said as he dropped to the ground.

The five guards glanced at each other sheepishly before returning to their positions around the back of the truck. It was, no doubt, the first time they'd seen how T-60 worked. Nate would be the same way if Damon showed him how his armor worked.

Nate set his pack and rifle aside before climbing inside the armor. Once he was all the way in, it clamped shut behind him. He'd felt claustrophobic the first time he'd done this on the Prydwen. He'd never been in a suit during his service. The sensation of being encased in a steel frame with hundreds of pounds of armor pressing in all around him… it wasn't pleasant. He knew there were safety systems that would eject him if there was a malfunction. Telling his body that was an entirely different story.

During his training, they'd removed the helmet to help, but he was still locked inside over half a ton of metal.

It took him hours to get comfortable and, even then, he still had to push the claustrophobia to the back of his head.

After spending three continuous days in the armor and it saving his life from a Deathclaw, he didn't mind being inside. That wasn't to say there wasn't still a twinge of discomfort as he felt the frame press against his back.

Once he was situated, Helen began running him through the same exercises his trainers on the Prydwen, Leonard, and Yates had. First, it was basic motions like lifting his arms to chest level, bending his elbows, lifting each leg and bending them at the knees, and, eventually, walking. That was all to make sure the joints were adjusted correctly. Helen made several small changes, but it was pretty close from the start. While Nate wouldn't call the armor comfortable, it fit and everything felt aligned after a few minutes.

"Alright", Helen said as she took a step back. "I assume you know how to make simple changes in the field if need be."

"Yes", Nate replied. His voice echoed in the helmet loud enough he couldn't hear the distorted version coming through its external speakers.

"Good." The former knight took a deep breath. "Take care of my armor."

"I will."

Damon had strapped his pack on and was watching the two of them work. He was holding Nate's bag-

… well shit. How am I gonna wear that?

As if to answer, the SPARTAN stepped forward and looped the now undone straps over his shoulders. After a few seconds of yanking on Nate's arms and pulling on the pack's straps and buckles, Damon had managed to secure it to the ex-soldier's new armor roughly like a normal backpack. It was finished too quickly for this to have been the first time Damon had done that.

The lack of apparent weight was disconcerting. He knew that pack was about 50 pounds. If he hadn't just watched Damon secure it, the ex-soldier would never have known it was there.

Suddenly, he didn't feel as bad about putting all the extra ammo in the SPARTAN's kit.

"Doing that every time I want to get out will be fun", Nate muttered.

Damon nodded. "We'll find a place to store it once we get to the island." He turned to Pat.

"I don't want to hear an apology for droppin' this on us short notice", the stout woman said before he could, probably, do just that. "Just get whatever you three are doing' done. People are scared."

"Yes, ma'am", the towering man said with another nod. "Thanks."

Well… not as towering now that Nate was in Helen's armor. He was almost as tall as the SPARTAN.

As dumb and pointless as the thought was, it made him smile.

Nate checked his rifle more out of a refresher on how to use the armor's manipulators than anything. It wasn't a small weapon but, in the bulky 'hands' connected to the end of the suit's arms, it looked that way. Using the gun was a little awkward; the controls had feedback. The issue was he spent his entire life feeling whatever weapon he was carrying. He couldn't do that in the armor.

He'd spent hours practicing it when they were on the Prydwen and even, to an extent, during their march through the Glowing Sea. That wasn't enough time. Unfortunately, it would have to do. He could, maybe, run through the exercises he'd been shown between now and when they got to Far Harbor.

"Thanks again, Helen", Nate said.

All she offered in reply was a curt nod. She wasn't comfortable lending him her gear but she knew what was at stake. Like she said, this was nothing compared to the sacrifice they'd already made, defecting from the Brotherhood.

Even so, that doesn't mean this wasn't another one on her part.

Damon motioned to the east, toward their destination.

The quartet started walking. It had been less than a week since they'd broken out of the damn Raider base and here they were again, diving into another entirely unknown situation headfirst.

There were two differences this time: they weren't prisoners, and the goal of all this was to kill Shaun, the only thing that had drug his ass out of that Vault and across this goddamn wasteland.