Those who came for smut and don't care about plot might be best served by the second chapter...
The sun was barely beginning to peek over the mountains when Danse woke, the barest hint of sunlight enough to rouse him as years and years of military training kicked in. Even though many months had passed since his exile from the Brotherhood of Steel, his old habits were hard to shake. He rose quickly, stretched, and dressed, splashing his face with cold water before he left his room and knocked on the door across from his. The door had been painted an immaculate red, vibrant, almost seeming out of place in a world where everything was faded and ruined. It fell open under his touch, allowing him to see that the bed within was empty. He stepped inside and placed a hand where Ava should have been, the sheets cold and barely wrinkled under his palm. He understood. Had he been in her place, he surmised he would not have slept much, either. He turned and left the empty room as a brisk wind filtered through the tattered curtains.
He found her sitting on the steps leading to her house's front door, watching the sun rise and clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee in shaking hands. He touched her shoulder gently as he came up behind her and crouched to her level, but she did not meet his gaze. The dark circles under her eyes were a telltale sign of the many sleepless nights she had spent tossing and turning in her bed before today had finally come. He slowly pried the chipped cup from her grasp, putting it down with a slight clink on the concrete steps before wrapping one hand around both of hers as the other brushed a stray lock of hair from her tear-stained cheek. He saw her take a deep breath before she finally looked at him, and resolve replaced grief in her eyes as she accepted the hand he offered to help her stand.
"Are you ready?" Danse asked quietly.
"Yes," she answered, her voice hoarse, but steady. "I'm ready."
She had been putting it off for more than a year, this terrible thing that would mark the definitive end of her old life. Somehow, a foolish part of her had wanted to leave the matter be, as if she might still one day wake to find that it all had been a dream. But when the thought of leaving this new life she had built from the ground up had begun to hurt, when the idea of losing every friend she had made in this strange future became unbearable, she knew it had to be done; for herself, for those she now called friends, and for the one she now held dearest.
A wave of nausea washed over her as the elevator to Vault 111 ground to a start, only the grip of Danse's hand on hers keeping her on her feet as the Vault's iron jaws closed above her little group, swallowing the sky and drowning them in darkness. The others were silent, the sound of their breathing the only sign of their presence. She felt as if she could barely breathe, and thought she might faint, the gloom closing in on her, but then they were at the bottom of the elevator shaft, and harsh white light blinded her as the gate pulled itself upward with difficulty to allow them to step off the platform. The smell of chemicals, rust and decay she would forever associate with Vault 111 assaulted her senses, and she almost gagged. But she steeled herself, looked at her friends, and guided them forward.
She was grateful some had accepted to come with her, and those who had refused she did not blame. Grief was not a burden to be shared with the unwilling. But she could not deny that having Danse, Piper, Nick, Hancock and Preston at her side gave her more courage than she ever thought she could have.
Their footsteps rang loud in the empty Vault, and she heard her friends whispering between themselves as they passed rows upon rows of cryogenic pods, each containing a piece of a past they could not even imagine. She could not help but glance at the worn stretcher Preston and Hancock held between them, and at the clean white sheet folded neatly in Piper's hands. Though her steps faltered, she pressed on.
Ava stopped them when they reached the only two functional pods in the Vault, the quiet hum and clink of the machines the only sounds to be heard. One of the pods was open, only waiting for someone to step inside before resuming its function, while the one across from it was closed, though the frozen person inside had long since died. Ava heaved a shuddering sigh as she went to the closed pod, peering through the small window for a long time before letting her hand hover above the release button. She gathered what was left of her courage and pressed it.
The pod swung open almost noiselessly, the icy wave of chemical-laden air that swept over the group making them shiver. As the fumes slowly faded, Ava was greeted by the sight of Nate's frozen body, and despite herself she took in every detail of him, including the bullet wound that glowered, red and fresh, on his temple, as perfectly preserved as the rest of him. I avenged you, was all she could think as she watched Hancock and Nick step forward. They handled Nate's body with care, laying it gently on the stretcher. Kellogg paid for what he did. To you. To Shaun. To me.
Piper wrapped the sheet around him, a makeshift funeral shroud, and they looked at her expectantly when it was done, Danse freeing her hand as he stepped back. She waved them ahead without her, and they retreated quietly.
Ava stared at the two empty, open pods for a long time before she could bring herself to turn away, and as she made her way toward the elevator, she glanced into each and every pod she passed, seeing the faces of friends, neighbours, and strangers. So many faces, too many to remember, though she studied them all for a moment before moving on. I will return, she promised as the sliding door leading into the cryogenic chambers closed behind her back. I will return, and I will lay you all to rest. But not today. Today, she was burying her husband. He had been dead 60 years. She owed him that.
A sea of rolling grey clouds had covered the sun when they emerged from the Vault, and a crisp spring wind lashed at their faces as they stepped off the platform and started down the hill. Danse fell into step next to her, and she reached for his hand, grasping it so tight she thought her own bones might break. He said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her even as his hand squeezed hers back reassuringly, and she knew he was concerned. She could have smiled at that, had the circumstances been different. She was the one that always worried. But today, she was empty.
Codsworth met them at the gate of Sanctuary's cemetery. It was a quiet spot, not far from the settlement itself, a square of bare land around which a low stone wall had been erected and a wooden gate had been put up. Few graves had had to be dug since they had first settled in Sanctuary, but today one had been prepared, yawning open in a secluded corner, shadowed by a leafless oak, waiting to be filled.
The stretcher's wheels clanked and squeaked on the uneven ground, too loud in the silent morning air. As her friends arranged themselves around the grave, Ava let go of Danse's hand, looking at them one by one before she finally forced herself to look at the body on the stretcher. She felt tears well in her eyes once more, but she had wept enough for now. So she wiped them away and stepped back, watching as Danse, Hancock, Preston and Nick lowered her husband into his grave.
The words came as they laid him down. It hurt to say them, as memories of a happier time rushed at her from the fog of remembrance, half-forgotten images of a world so beautiful that she hardly believed it had been real passing behind her eyes.
"You did not know him, but you should know about him." They turned to her at the sound of her voice, and she felt her throat become thick with tears. "His name was Nate. He was a soldier. We got married two years before the bombs fell, during the War. He liked football and music and strawberry cake." From the bottom of the grave, wrapped in its stark white sheet, the body that had been her husband stared up at her. A cold swept over the cemetery, ghostly fingers playing with her hair as she closed her eyes. "He liked to play the piano even though he was horrible at it. He hated fishing, yet he went with his brother every year…" She realised that a smile had settled on her lips at the memories. But it disappeared when next she spoke. "I had to drag him to Sanctuary Hills, but once we were here he loved it. Told me he never wanted to leave again. Told me we'd… be together forever."
She felt Piper hovering next to her, her hand barely touching her shoulder, hesitating. But it was Danse Ava wanted, not her. But when Piper finally encircled her shoulders, Ava leaned into her all the same.
"He never wanted anything more than to be with me. I'll love him, always."
Her eyes fluttered open then, finding them all lowering their eyes to the ground, though she caught Danse's gaze before he could do the same. Something indescribable flashed behind his eyes at that moment, and he turned away before she could understand what she had seen, heaving a shovel from the pile they had brought the day before. The others did the same, and together they buried her husband.
It took the seven of them the better part of an hour to fill the grave, and when the task was done, Ava felt more exhausted than she ever had. She wanted nothing more than to lay down right where she stood, and sleep. But as the others slipped away one by one, whispering words of comfort and encouragement, she stayed standing before the fresh mound of dirt, staring at the white wooden cross that marked her husband's resting place.
'Nate Murdoch', it read, in neat black letters. She extended a hand, trembling fingers smoothing over the splintering wood. She wished she had a prayer, a poem, anything at all to leave behind here, in memory. But nothing came, her mind as empty as her heart.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she spied Danse's broad silhouette hovering near the cemetery's gate, visibly hesitating as to whether he should leave her to her thoughts. As she looked at him, she knew suddenly what she had seen in his eyes: jealousy. And guilt. For envying a dead man. For wishing Nate had never even existed. She wondered if that should have made her angry, or perhaps sad. But she only felt as guilty as Danse did, for wanting more than anything to go to him when she had but just thrown the last handful of dirt over her husband's grave. But Nate's memory was so distant, and Danse made her feel so alive, so loved… She couldn't decide what to do. Not right now. But as she shot a last look at the white cross marking her husband's grave before turning away, she saw that Danse had decided to leave. She called out, before he could get out of earshot, and he stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at her from halfway down the hill.
She felt something being ripped away from her whole as she slowly made her way to him, a part of her being left behind to lay on Nate's grave in lieu of a bouquet of fresh flowers. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she took Danse's hand in hers, and he said nothing as he gathered her in his arms, holding her in the silence for a long while before he took her home, to Sanctuary.