Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warning for death, violence, fantastic racism and grief/mourning. I will be writing smut in this chapter – yays? Spoiler warning for Blind Betrayal, though with canon divergence.
…
Danse was shirtless and chopping firewood from the old dead hedges in Sanctuary when Sparrow came to deliver a copy of the holotape she'd made for Sturges. The Minutemen were slowly expanding and if Shaun – if Father – managed to take down the Brotherhood of Steel, they would be the next best hope for the Commonwealth. When he wasn't running menial errands for the Proctors, he was teaching the settlers the finer arts of self-defence and upholding the Minutemen-Brotherhood alliance by himself. Maxson had made it abundantly clear what was riding on their marriage and Sparrow couldn't see a way out of it. Not without destroying what Danse held so dear.
"Sparrow!" Right on cue, Preston Garvey showed up with a tentative smile and a raised eyebrow. "What brings you here?"
"I have information on the Institute the Minutemen could use," she told him as Danse turned around. "If something happens to the Brotherhood…"
"Then we can take the bastards down," Preston finished grimly. "I wish more of your order had yours and Danse's open-mindedness."
"I'm sure as Elder Maxson's wife, she'll be able to influence how he makes decisions," Danse said tightly, not meeting her eyes.
Preston looked pointedly at Sparrow. "Is this what you want?" he asked quietly. "If not, the Minutemen owe you enough to give you sanctuary – we could use someone with your logistical abilities when we retake the Castle."
"What I want and what the Brotherhood needs are two different things," she said bitterly as she offered the holotape. "Is Codsworth here?"
"He is, but he's pretty devastated about you marrying Maxson," Preston said quietly. "It appears he was really keen on you and Danse."
Sparrow closed her eyes. "I figure he deserves to know what happened to Shaun."
"Then he's in the Longs' house." Preston gestured to the house near the bridge.
"Thanks." Sparrow headed over there, not wanting to cause Danse any more pain than she had. Damn Maxson for not finding a better wife!
If machines could cry, Codsworth would have when Sparrow relayed what happened to Shaun. "Oh Miss Sparrow!" he mourned. "Is there any hope?"
"No," she said grimly. "Before she leaves, Madison Li's going to collect as much information on the Institute's technology – their crops, water purification and medicines – as she can. The Institute has got to go but it doesn't mean their advances shouldn't be lost."
"I'm glad you're saving what you can," Codsworth said sadly. "Miss Sparrow, must you really marry this Elder Maxson? He sounds very… harsh. And Master Danse adores you."
"Maxson is a product of his environment," she said bitterly. "And what would hurt Danse more – me marrying the Elder or me letting the Brotherhood fall to internecine conflict?"
"What a spot of trouble you're in and Master Nate barely buried!" Codsworth observed sorrowfully. "Is there some reason Master Danse can't be the Elder of this Brotherhood? He's frightfully competent as a leader and Mister Preston's even offered him the rank of General in the Minutemen if he wants it."
"Arthur Maxson is descended from our founding leader Roger Maxson. He was born to the rank and is the order's last hope for reunification." Danse's voice was deliberately toneless as he explained the reality of the situation to the robot. "He is a great man and Sparrow is worthy of being Lady Maxson."
"I still think he sounds like a spoilt petty tyrant," Codsworth declared stoutly. "You would bleed for those under your command, Master Danse. I bet this one orders them to bleed without remorse."
"So would Arthur," Danse said sadly. "He is a fine leader and that's what makes it so painful."
"I'm sorry, Danse," Sparrow whispered. "I didn't know you'd be here. If I had, I would have asked Cait or Nick to bring the holotape to Sanctuary."
"I know." There was a wealth of tenderness in Danse's voice, softening the brusque tones into something almost velvety. "I'm so proud of you, Sparrow. You're putting the needs of the many above our own selfishness. You have no idea what that means to me."
Why don't you just tear out my heart? Sparrow thought as she nodded dumbly. One word from Danse and she would flee the Brotherhood with him.
But Danse would never think that word, let alone say it. So she made her farewells and turned for the bridge. If she hurried, she could stay at the Abernathy farm for the night before returning to the Prydwen.
Maybe one day her heart would stop breaking every time she saw those mournful brown eyes.
…
After Maxson walked away, Sparrow stared at the pistol, hand shaking uncontrollably. How could he be so impossibly, utterly, undeniably cruel to her, to give this order, to execute Danse whether he was a synth or not?
"Convenient that the Elder's romantic rival is now branded synth and a traitor to the Brotherhood," Madison Li noted darkly. Sparrow had persuaded her to return with the secrets of the Institute because the agricultural and medical technology alone would alter the Commonwealth for the better. The scientist wasn't best pleased with Arthur running things, at one point describing him as 'a spoilt little shit'. But she agreed the Institute was the far greater threat and for less reason.
Ingram threw the Scribe a startled glance. "Maxson wouldn't frame an innocent man, not like that," the Proctor insisted, though her voice was doubtful.
"Quinlan and Cade are his personal lackeys – the former worships the ground he walks on," Madison retorted with far too much accuracy for Sparrow's comfort. "I find it… convenient that they confirm Danse's stance as a synth."
"Run some tests of your own to confirm it," Sparrow commanded with a shaky voice. "I-I have my orders."
The Proctor looked troubled. "Synth or not, Danse deserves the chance to defend himself," she observed. "Unless caught in the act of betrayal, every member of the Brotherhood has the right to a trial before the Elder and their peers."
"What's this?" Haylen's voice asked behind them. "Sparrow, what's going on?"
The three women faced the Field Scribe, whose expression was grim. "I've been hearing some pretty interesting rumours in Cambridge," she continued, pegging Sparrow with a death glare.
"Elder Maxson has the right to arrange unions within the Brotherhood as he sees fit," Sparrow observed bitterly. "Whether they might wish otherwise. And now Danse is apparently a synth."
Haylen's lips tightened. "And you're being sent to kill him?"
"The Elder seems to think that his chosen wife must prove herself loyal to him and him alone," Madison said flatly. "I find it convenient that his romantic rival has been declared a synth."
"That's… fucked up," Haylen finally observed slowly. "But you can't disobey orders… can you?"
"No, I can't," Sparrow said bitterly. "I have to find Danse."
"Then go do what you have to and I'll attend to my duties." Haylen saluted and left, Sparrow wondering at the meaning of her words.
…
"Send them back to hell!"
Danse led the Minutemen in retaking their outpost, an old crumbling ruin called the Castle, in the power armour that Sturges had painted in the paramilitary force's colours. After seeing Sparrow again, he knew that he couldn't return to the Prydwen, not for a long time – and there was an alliance the Brotherhood needed to fulfil. So in between his few orders from Ingram, he helped Garvey expand the group's influence and found himself impressed with the grit of the Commonwealth's people. The Capital Wasteland's folk were so used to being dominated by Maxson and other groups that they obeyed out of fear. The Commonwealth, aside from the justified paranoia involving the Institute, had never been conquered and they weren't about to allow that to happen now.
The mirelurks, including their queen, were soon dispatched and the nests purged with fire from Codsworth. Preston uttered a victory cry that was soon picked up by the others, including Danse, Cait and even fucking Hancock, who'd come along out of boredom: "United we stand, people! United we stand!"
When it was over, the old radio running again after Sturges set up the portable generators brought from Sanctuary because of the wind turbines he'd cobbled together there, Preston approached Danse with a broad grin. "Sure you don't want to call yourself General?" he asked in all seriousness.
The Paladin smiled sadly and shook his head. "Despite all that's happened, I'm still of the Brotherhood," he reminded the Minuteman. "If anyone deserves the job, it's you."
"Job's open. We'd all go through fire for you, Danse." Garvey saluted and turned to organise the cooking of the mirelurks for their victory feast. Waste not, want not and all of that.
Within three hours, Piper brought her little sister Nat from Diamond City with Nick in tow, grinning broadly. "Well, well, the heroes have won," she declared. "Can I get an exclusive?"
"Piper, you're more than welcome to any stories we might generate," Garvey said to her with a smile from the pit where the mirelurks were being baked in their shells. "In fact, if you'd like to move your printing press here, I think the Castle could use an embedded reporter and her newspaper."
"I'm not letting McDonough run me out of Diamond City!" the reporter declared before turning to Danse. "Hello, Paladin. Where's Sparrow?"
"She's on the Prydwen," he answered tersely.
"Being groomed to be the illustrious Elder Maxson's bride I hear," Piper observed dryly.
"She's eminently suited to the role," Danse pointed out flatly. Even here he couldn't escape the mention of her name. In the weeks since she'd emerged from Vault into the Commonwealth, she had touched more lives than he thought possible.
"Uh huh. That's interesting, because I received a tip-off from someone named Scribe Haylen." Piper handed over a holotape. "You might want to listen to it and decide where your loyalties lie."
Danse accepted it reluctantly. There was a terminal in the radio to play holotapes.
The operator briefly unhooked the speakers so that no one need hear Haylen's words, a generous gesture, and went to grab a drink and some slow-baked mirelurk. Danse stepped out of his power armour and with shaking hands, inserted the holotape into the terminal, wondering what was happening.
The message was horrifying. "Elder Maxson has declared that you are a synth and must be executed on sight," Haylen recorded, her voice shaky with fear and worry. "What's really fucked up is that he's sending Sparrow to make sure. Madison Li thinks he's trying to get rid of a romantic rival and Ingram says you're entitled to a public trial before the Elder and your peers. I don't care if you're a synth or not – all I know is that you're one of the most decent men in the Brotherhood and you deserve to be warned. I don't know if Sparrow would kill you, but I'm pretty sure the Elder will execute her if she doesn't come back with your holotags. Ad Victoriam, Paladin."
He dropped to his knees in utter horror at the betrayal. Was he a synth, an abomination of technology who needed to be destroyed for the sake of humanity? Or was this Maxson's way of securing Sparrow's utmost loyalty for himself?
"Hell of a betrayal." Nick's dry tones, full of sympathy, pulled him out of the despair that fell upon him. "What are you going to do?"
Danse shuddered and pulled himself together. "I need to discover first and foremost if I am a synth. If I am, then the Brotherhood is right to execute me."
"Fuck that, Metal Man," Hancock said rudely. "Fuck the Brotherhood. Don't know if that girlfriend of yours would kill you to trade up but there's roughly a hundred Minutemen who owe you big time and several dozen people who would happily help you to piss off the shithead in the flying steel phallic symbol."
"Miss Sparrow is aghast at the thought of marrying this Elder Maxson," Codsworth declared staunchly. "Unfortunately, she can see no way out of this situation as she believes Master Danse would sooner die than betray the Brotherhood."
"Why don't we find out if he's a synth before anything else?" Nick said as he lit up a smoke. "If he is, the Railroad can get him out of the Commonwealth."
"I'm not leaving," Danse declared, his fists clenching. "I will not flee."
He rose to his feet as everyone, people who considered him and maybe Sparrow as friends and allies, stared at him in shock. "I'm not afraid to die. I fear, however, that I could be an Institute plant. Even if I'm not…" He took a deep breath. "Even if I am a synth yet not an Institute plant, then I will insist on a public trial. Elder Maxson has pissed on everything we in the Brotherhood hold sacred by forcing Sparrow to come after me. I'm not afraid to die… but I will make my death mean something."
"We'll get Sparrow to come to the Castle then," Garvey suggested. "Danse… She's going through with the marriage because she knows it would kill you to see the Brotherhood fail. I could read that much from her. If she and you decide to tell Elder Maxson to go pound sand, then the Minutemen will stand at your back."
He turned to the radio operator. "Switch on those speakers and call in every available Minuteman, especially the veterans who recall Becker running the place. We had heavy artillery once and we're going to need it again."
The operator saluted and went to obey as Danse stared. Would they blow up the Prydwen to protect him? Because that's what Garvey's comments implied.
"I must agree with Mister Preston," Codsworth observed. "Miss Sparrow would always swallow her feelings and do what she thought was best for others. It was why she turned to the Daytripper and Calmex after young Shaun's birth, to make it look like she was always happy for Master Nate's sake."
Piper inhaled raggedly. "Okay, I'm still sceptical but I'll take your word for it."
"I'll take you to Dr Amari," Nick offered. "If you are a synth with stripped memories, she'll know. She always keeps a record of those she's helped."
Danse nodded. One step at a time. If he was a synth, then so be it. But if this was Maxson's attempt to destroy him… Then he was going to rip the esteemed Elder apart with his bare hands and not even bother with power armour. He would not allow everything so sacred to the Brotherhood be pissed upon by a boy who justified every whim of his for the greater good.
…
Nick's expression was grim as he led her towards the Minutemen's newly reclaimed base. "You're not planning to kill him, are you?" the synth asked candidly.
"No," Sparrow promised hoarsely. In this, Maxson was correct. "I need him to disappear."
"Damn fool won't do that," Nick observed with a sigh. "You going to join him? He would if you wanted him too."
"I can't." There were too many good people in the Brotherhood who relied on her. Maxson would make examples of them once Liberty Prime was activated and the Institute destroyed. "I just need his holotags."
Bless Haylen for warning him. Danse would have walked into Cambridge Station and been executed by Rhys, who was disgusted he served under a synth. Sparrow couldn't bear it if Danse died at the hands of the Brotherhood he loved so dearly.
The Castle had been hastily fortified, its walls lined with machine gun turrets and… good God, anti-aircraft artillery at each end of the fortress. "The Minutemen won't let the Brotherhood bully them around," Nick observed blandly.
Preston met them at the gate, accompanied by an old woman in military fatigues and a combat breastplate with a star on it. "Scribe Sparrow Finlay, this is Ronnie Shaw, General of the Minutemen," he introduced formally.
"I'm not here to kill him," Sparrow repeated as the woman fixed her with a gimlet gaze.
"Well, he won't disappear, more fool him," Ronnie answered, her voice hard and fierce. "Lot of people, Minutemen and not, owe him their lives."
"I know."
"He says he's going to insist on a Brotherhood trial. If that's so, you can hold it here," Ronnie continued calmly. "I don't trust that Maxson one bit."
"Maxson thinks he's doing the right thing by the Brotherhood," Sparrow muttered bitterly as she was led inside. "Unfortunately, he might be mistaking his ambition for necessity."
"Many tyrants do," Ronnie agreed. "Not my place to tell you how to run the Brotherhood but you'd do well to cut him out like the cancer he is."
The courtyard was filled with Minutemen from around the Commonwealth, most of them armed with laser muskets, pipe pistols and baseball bats, a few Neighbourhood Watch (mostly ghouls) from Goodneighbour and a few familiar faces, most of their expressions ranging from disappointment to sorrow.
Sparrow drew herself up and unholstered both pistols, handing them to Garvey, and a sigh ran through the crowd.
So much for Danse disappearing, she thought with a sigh as the crowd parted to reveal Danse in his Brotherhood uniform. This was a media circus, deliberately so, the Commonwealth telling Maxson that while he was in their territory, he would abide by their rules.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Paladin Danse, you have been accused and discovered of being a synth, which by the Litany of the Brotherhood of Steel is an offence punishable by death. How do you plead?"
His mournful brown eyes met hers. "I am a synth designated M7-97, created by the Institute to be one of their slaves until I chose to flee. My memories were erased by Dr Amari and I was smuggled by the Railroad to Rivet City in the Capital Wasteland, where I joined the Brotherhood of Steel and served loyally, unaware of my true nature. So I plead guilty."
"Then by the Litany, you are to be held until trial at the Minutemen's Castle before Elder Maxson and your peers as is your right as a member of the Brotherhood of Steel." Sparrow smiled sourly and lowered her tone. "Which, if the Minutemen are broadcasting this across the Commonwealth, will be about an hour or two before Maxson comes to collect us both for treason and insubordination."
Danse's smile was a feral thing. "I intend to demand the trial by combat. If Maxson wants me dead, he can get his hands dirty for a change."
"General, I think now might be a fine time to test our guns," Preston said blandly to Ronnie. "To make sure the Brotherhood aren't stupid enough to attack us with vertibirds instead of coming for a fair trial."
"Colonel Garvey, I like how you think," the woman declared. "Grenadiers, throw those grenades at every point surrounding the harbour! Artillerists, fire at will when you see that smoke!"
The old WW2 artillery was soon in action, bombarding every point where smoke rose from.
"Well, I'll be damned," Garvey said in awe. "I think we just levelled the playing field."
"I hope it doesn't come to that," Danse said grimly. "There are children and civilians on that airship."
"I hope it doesn't either," Ronnie agreed fervently. "If Maxson causes trouble, I'm blowing his vertibird from the sky. Maybe that will give your Brotherhood a chance to get its shit together."
"General…" Danse seemed lost for words as he looked down at the wiry woman.
"You can never have too many friends in the Commonwealth, Paladin Danse, and if not for you and the lady at Concord, there wouldn't be any Minutemen left," Preston reminded him. "Remember what Mama Murphy said: 'A man needs friends in the Commonwealth, Paladin, and you're going to need them more than most by the time this all ends. Remember it's the heart and soul that makes a person, not the flesh, and that will of steel you have will carry you through the pain to the other side'."
"The settlements under the control of the Brotherhood are pretty happy with their lot," Ronnie added. "Can't say as I agree with your anti-synth and anti-ghoul rhetoric, but that's for you to figure out. Maybe having ghouls and synths here today will give your order a wakeup call it sorely needs. But so long as you respect your neighbours, we don't have a problem with the Brotherhood being here."
"I, personally, have no problem with synths like Nick and… Danse and ghouls like Hancock," Sparrow said softly. "But my son runs the Institute and he – and it – are abominations. There's stuff there that's worth salvaging and I managed to get most of it out through Madison Li – agricultural and medical technology, the theory behind their teleportation. But the Brotherhood of Steel is dedicated to preserving and protecting technology – and destroying that which is too dangerous for anyone to have. The Institute has gone too far and needs to be taken down."
Piper, who'd been glaring at Sparrow but otherwise remaining silent, let her mouth fall open in shock. "Hoo boy…"
"That's a hell of a burden to bear. Explains why you're willing to put up with an ass like Maxson," Ronnie said with rough sympathy.
Sparrow nodded and looked towards the Prydwen. "Can I have a quick wash and something to eat?" she asked. "Things are going to be stressful in the next few hours."
"Go ahead," Ronnie said.
Sparrow followed where a Minuteman led her. This was… going to be hard. But she needed to make a point to the Brotherhood and herself about the rule of law.
…
Danse was going to be a dead man – synth – soon. Maxson's legend came about through honest means. But this trial… This trial would hopefully make Sparrow a power to match him, to balance out the Elder, if not outright eclipse him. Or replace him, because Danse intended to do as much damage as he could before he died. It was the only gift he could give the woman he loved.
"Danse?"
Sparrow's voice, soft and unsure, interrupted his reverie. He turned and swore quietly as he realised she was wearing nothing but a towel.
"No," he breathed. "You'll jeopardise the trial."
"Me? I'm just a Scribe." Her tone was ironic. "Teagan and Ingram are going to haul the Elder over hot coals no matter what for breaching Brotherhood protocol."
"You are no more 'just a Scribe' than I am a real person," he pointed out bluntly.
"You are a real person," Sparrow insisted. "You bleed, you weep, you're so loyal to the Brotherhood it fucking hurts."
"I remember my life in the ruins and the Brotherhood saving me from it," Danse said, unable to tear his eyes away from the expanse of flesh revealed by the brief towel. "But it was a lie, wasn't it?"
"Not your life in the Brotherhood," she said, shifting slightly so that the towel parted at the bottom to show a flash of hipbone. "Not that kiss between us."
Danse looked at her despairingly. "You need to go. The Brotherhood will need you as a leader no matter what happens today and…" He swallowed thickly. "You can't jeopardise that by being intimate with a synth."
"I would like, just for fucking once in my life since I woke up in this hellhole of a landscape, to love and be loved in return," Sparrow answered, her voice breaking on the curse. "But if you don't want to – or synths can't – I understand. I just want you to know, Paladin Danse, that I love you. I think I have since you held me in that stinking bed in Goodneighbour and promised you'd take me to bury my dead husband."
"By the first week of knowing you I was imagining my life with you," Danse admitted, unable to deny such raw honesty. "When Arthur told me his plans I… was ready to kill him. But I thought he could give you a better life than I could."
Sparrow looked away. "I only would have married him to preserve the Brotherhood you love so much, Danse. There's more political troubles than you're aware of. Maxson wanted to marry me, in part, so he could cut the strings the Lost Hills Elders attached to him."
In that moment, Danse almost pitied Maxson. But trying to force Sparrow to covertly execute him was the final straw for the Paladin. He was a dead synth but by the time he was done with the Elder, he would hold no power to threaten the Vault Dweller.
"I love you," he said softly. "Damn me for a fool but…"
He stepped forward and peeled off the towel to reveal small breasts tipped with dusk-rose nipples, a soft stomach that bore the wrinkled marks of her proven fertility and a thatch of dark hair that glistened in the dim light. She was thinner than he recalled, the bones of her hips more sharply defined than they should be yet there was enough of her for his artificial body to respond.
This time he initiated the kiss, tasting the complex flavour that was uniquely her and exploring the lines and hollows of her throat, taking a nipple into his mouth until it was a hard nub. Her fingers twisted in his black hair, pulling it hard enough to hurt but he welcomed the ache, knowing that while artificial construct he might be, the reactions he produced were real enough.
She tried to run her hands over his body but Danse knew he'd come too soon judging by the rigid, leaking state of his cock. So he picked her up as he had on the Prydwen and braced her against the wall, one arm under her right leg and the other holding her wrists together. Sparrow looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips, the scar whose story he'd never know reddened against dark pink flesh, and he almost finished then and there.
"Fuck!" he swore eloquently as he entered her. His brain processes shut down after that, hips snapping as he drove himself into that wet warmth, her left leg pressed against his waist. The noises she made – little moans and gasps and a soft cry that made him growl with pleasure – were underscored by the slap of flesh against flesh. When he released her hands to brace themselves better against the wall, she snaked one between them, doing something that made her tighten and shudder around his cock to trigger his own release.
He was organic enough to come, he thought distantly as the white noise in his head cleared and the lights stopped dancing behind his eyes.
"Is that real enough for you?" she whispered as they panted.
"Yes," he rasped.
"Then believe you're real." She kissed him and for a moment, Danse believed they might come through this.
But the sound of vertibirds shattered the moment and he knew it was his time to die with honour as befitted a Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel.