"I'm not surprised Maxson sent you. He never liked to do the dirty work himself." Danse looked away, but not before she glimpsed the despair that marked his face. Marked his soul. The soul he now likely thought he didn't have.
"I... wish he hadn't sent you." Danse's voice was quiet and resigned.
He couldn't even bring himself to look at her, his constant companion for the last six months. His head was bowed and it made Nora's heart shatter for the anguish he must be feeling. Even after all they'd been through - the combat, the losses, the blood they'd lost - he had always unflaggingly kept his head up and back straight.
Her throat felt like it was full of crushed gravel, making speech difficult. "No. Don't say that. I'm glad. If he'd sent anyone else… Christ, Danse."
Nora became aware she was panting through clenched teeth. The crushing weight of the terror she'd had for his safety was making sweat trickle down her back and between her breasts, compounded in part by the hell-bent for leather pace she'd set to get to him.
To get to him first. Before any other Brotherhood soldier who would only be there for the coup. It had taken every fiber of her being to walk away from the command deck calmly after receiving her orders, when all she wanted to do was scream her fury and defiance and heartbreak in the face of the too young, too cruel Elder. As soon as Haylen - God bless that woman - had furtively taken her aside, she knew there was a chance she could yet save her Paladin.
The writhing nausea and panic she felt were just barely under control. She shook her head wildly to try to shake away the possibility of the very real and very horrible consequences.
If Maxson had sent anyone else, Danse would be dead already. He'd be dead and I'd be standing over his corpse and he'd be gone and I'd be alone and he'd be dead he'd be dead he'd be dead-
"I need to touch you," she blurted. Danse frowned and hesitated, but cautiously extended arm towards her, palm down. Like he was contagious. It was as close as he'd let her get right now. She'd have to accept whatever piece of him she could get to prove to herself that he wasn't already a ghost. It wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough for the part of her that wanted to hold him close and swallow him whole and protect him, keep him deep inside her. Forever and ever, amen.
She wasn't too late, was she? Had she run fast enough and hard enough? She'd set a punishing pace to reach him. Get to him first.
No, he was real, not spectral and noncorporeal as she had feared. Danse's hand was solid and warm and callused under fingers that were probably clenched too tightly for comfort around his, were probably uncomfortably cold and clammy against the vital warmth of him. He was real, he was alive, and she had gotten to her Paladin in time.
Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou-
Nora shook her head to try to clear it of dazed shock. She needed all cylinders firing right now. "I don't understand what's going on, Danse. Is it… true?"
Abruptly, he withdrew his hand from hers and turned to face the crumbling concrete wall, leaving her bereft at the sudden absence of his touch and staring at his wide back helplessly. She could taste the self-loathing in the air. And he still hadn't made eye contact with her…
"Believe me, this is more of a shock to me than it is to you. I didn't know. Until Quinlan got that list decoded, I thought synths were the enemy. I never expected to hear that I was one of them. If it wasn't for Haylen, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."
He flexed his powerful shoulders and looked heavenward. For guidance, for comfort, for patience - she didn't know. God, he was hurting so much. Seeing his pain plunged a corresponding barbed hook deep in her heart.
Danse whirled to face her suddenly. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides and his red-rimmed eyes fell on her accusingly. "So what are your orders? Does Maxson even want me alive?"
It was her turn to avoid eye contact; her focus dropped to his boots. To have to deliver the news that the man he called friend ordered her there to execute him...
"No. He sent me here to…" she trailed off miserably.
Nora was trembling hard enough she had to wrap her arms around her ribs to keep them from rattling like a caricature from the black and white cartoons of her childhood. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
But she bravely lifted her chin and looked him squarely in the eye because the selfless, courageous, extraordinary man he was deserved no less. Danse was her friend and she needed to make it plainly-without-a-shadow-of-a-doubt clear to him that she - along with Haylen - still had his back, even if nobody else fucking did.
"Danse, I'm… truly sorry. He sent me here to kill you. Haylen - god, I'm gonna kiss that woman. Maxson told me to start with Quinlan. He'd pulled all of your field reports to pinpoint the locations you'd visited to have me start eliminating them one by one. I planned on stalling to buy you some time, then Haylen charged in, hopping mad like only a redhead can get. She pulled me down to one of the lower decks and gave me these coordinates. I burned through two whole fusion cores to get to you."
Warily, she reached a hand out to touch his arm, but he twitched back just out of reach.
Nora curled those fingers into a fist and slammed it into her thigh in frustration. "He's batshit crazy if he thinks I'm gonna carry those orders out. There has to be a way out. Help me think, Danse. Tell me what to do." She wasn't too proud to beg, not for him and not under these desperate circumstances.
He started prowling back and forth - Bagheera in uniform. Unhappily, she eyed him, waiting for him to spit out whatever it was he was thinking. He had to have some kind of plan. He always did.
After a few minutes, his edgy movements slowed. He came to a halt in front of her and cleared his throat as he often did when he had an uncomfortable subject to breach.
"Look, I'm not blind to the fact that we're good friends and this must be difficult for you. I sincerely wish Maxson had sent someone else." His heavy brows knit together sorrowfully.
The pacing began again. His rich baritone voice snapped out and lashed at her, as whip-sharp and bitter as she'd ever heard him, even as a new recruit constantly challenging his authority over her.
"But that doesn't change a thing. I'm a synth, which means I need to be destroyed."
No. I won't.
"If you disobey your orders, you're not only betraying Maxson, you're betraying the Brotherhood of Steel and everything it stands for."
I don't care.
"Synths can't be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that's run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction. I need to be the example, not the exception."
She was once again the disobedient Initiate who dug her heels in over a disagreeable order, he the veteran Paladin coolly demanding corrective action. For the greater good of the Brotherhood, whatever that meant.
Yet… she wasn't. This man was her friend now, unlike then. He was a man trying not to let the overwhelming burden of this newly discovered, crushing knowledge destroy him. He was trying to keep the few remaining shreds of dignity he had intact. She would honor his intent, but not the request.
She raised her head high and quietly countered, "No. Synth or not, you're still yourself. You're still the Danse that I respect and trust. I know you too well to believe otherwise."
He looked at her incredulously, ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Sinclair, listen to me. Everything I am is a lie. I simply should not exist."
She started to wither again under the force of his glare then took a deep breath to center herself. No. This wasn't it. This wasn't the way it would end. Not if she had anything to say about it. A curl of anger came to life in her chest, and it burned brightly. She would flay Maxson alive for mandating this assassination.
"If you really feel that way, why did you run in the first place?" she demanded.
"The moment I learned the truth, I knew my life was in danger. I'm a soldier, so self-preservation kicked in… I needed to regroup and assess the situation."
It was his turn for uncertainty. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"Once I got here, and had some time to think… I realized I'd just made everything worse. I should have stayed on the Prydwen and accepted the inevitable. Like I said, I need to be the example, not the exception."
Had she gotten back to the airport only to witness his public execution, she would have burned it all down. Destroyed every last one of them, saving Maxson for last.
Focus.
"Danse, please. Listen to me. Listen to yourself!" she begged. "The empathy that you're showing me… it's a human emotion."
A fatalistic acceptance spread across his face and seeped into his voice. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I've made my decision. I'm ready to accept the consequences of my true identity. Maxson's ordered you to execute me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand in your way."
He watched her with hooded eyes, waiting for her to… what? Accept what he was asking her to do? Be a good little Knight and listen to your Elder, for he knows best?
Fuck. That.
"No. I won't do it, Danse. I'll burn the Prydwen out of the sky before I murder you," she hissed. She advanced on him angrily until she stood toe to toe with him. There'd been a lot of water under the bridge since she'd last faced him down like this. Needs must when the devil drives.
Coldly she continued, ignoring the way he flinched back at the force of her rancor. "If that's what it takes to keep you in one piece, then so be it. Fuck the Brotherhood and fuck Maxson's orders. Fuck this listening post and fuck me if I'm touching a hair on your damn head. I might punch you for being so goddamn stupid though."
He looked astonished. As if he couldn't believe-
"I can't believe you'd risk your life just to keep me alive. Why would you do that for me?" he asked plaintively.
"Because I care about you. You know that, you asshole. How could you even ask me that question? I'm here to fight for you, not help you commit assisted suicide." She threw her arms wide with exasperation, barely missing clipping his chin.
"I've already lost my family, I don't want to lose my friend." Nora glared up at him and poked him in the chest. Hard. "That means you, if you need me to fucking spell it out for you. What the crap, Danse?"
Danse frowned thoughtfully and absently rubbed his chest. "You're right. How could I have been so blind? I should consider how my death might affect the people who care about me. People like you and Haylen. You're right and I'm sorry."
He smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Perhaps now that you've opened my eyes, I can consider my next move."
"Our next move. I'm in this with you." Through thick and thin and fog and flood and dead of night. Through radioactive lava and deathclaw lairs and the ghosts of her past.
"Here. Take my holotags. Use them to prove that your mission was successful or Maxson will just send someone else to hunt me down."
Maybe she should just flip the tables and execute Maxson instead.
Danse unbuckled the tab at the neck of his uniform and unzipped it just far enough to tug the chain carrying his holotags out. He had to jerk them free where they snagged on his collar. For a brief moment, he looked down at the glowing blue and silver that represented his whole life, and then thrust them at her.
Nora took the chain from his hand and curled her fingers around the surprisingly heavy metal tags. They were still warm from his body heat. She'd wear them herself; the tags dropped down and settled over her breastbone with a metallic clink. She'd dutifully show them to Maxson, but she'd keep them afterwards. Danse might want them back someday.
"Okay. We need to get you out of here. The Castle is too close to the airport, but-"
"Nora." Danse gripped her upper arms in his hands and squeezed tightly. He opened his mouth as if to continue speaking, then hesitated. No. No. Nora shook her head in vehement rejection. She didn't want to see this heavy melancholy in his eyes. It could only mean one thing.
No. God, no. Please.
Slowly, horribly, he spoke, "Listen to me, Nora. You need to continue your fight against the Institute without me. I have my own path to follow now. The only clear choice is for me to leave the Commonwealth. The sooner I make for the border, the sooner I put this behind me."
He voiced the very thought she'd been trying to shove out of her head. He was right. He was right, and it was eating at her like acid. No matter which direction she turned, she was destined to lose him anyway. She bit her cheek until she tasted fresh blood to tamp down the raw, excruciating scream of denial that threatened to tear out of her throat.
No. She'd delay that moment of separation for as long as she could. Frantically, she said, "We'll head to Sanctuary. You'll need supplies, weapons, caps-"
He shook his head sharply. "Negative. Showing up in a Minutemen settlement would immediately make them a target, not only from the Institute but from the Brotherhood as well. I won't put innocent people in danger."
She dug her fingers into his forearms. "You forget - I'm not just your Knight. I am General of the Minutemen. Maxson wouldn't dare," she spat.
Danse scowled and leaned into her face. "He could and he would, if he felt the retaliation was warranted. He wouldn't hesitate to level Sanctuary as a warning to any who dared cross him. Do you honestly believe the Minutemen would survive a war with the Brotherhood?"
Stubbornly, she replied. "Yes. I do. We're strong enough now. I'll go toe to toe with Maxson myself and I'll kick his ass."
He ducked his head down to look her directly in the eye. "Nora, heed my warning. Don't underestimate him. It could easily prove to be fatal."
He sighed. "I can't take you with me, either. It would only paint a target on your back. I won't have your life in danger. Especially not you. You've already risked enough for me. And I'll never forget it for as long as I live. Believe me, Nora - I can never repay this debt." He shook her gently to emphasize his point.
"Get those holotags to Maxson and you'll buy me enough time to get a decent head start. Your final orders from me, soldier." He swallowed and looked away at her strangled sob.
The panic was starting to fly freely through her, wild and high. She was rattling inside like wind on loose shingles. Without him, she'd fall into pieces...
No, no, no. Think. Concentrate.
"Zimonja, then. You just helped me clear it out before we rebuilt Prime. There's nobody there yet. All of the armor and weapons from the raiders should still be there. That suit of power armor - take it. You need it. Head north into New Hampshire. As soon as I get back to the Castle I'll send Dogmeat after you. He's a good boy. Take care of him for me."
"I can't let you do that. He's created a bond with you. He's your dog." Danse looked tired and sad and lonely already.
"I'm bonded to you more, Danse. I thought you knew that. Oh my God, didn't I ever tell you?"
Another racking sob forced its way out of her, then another.
"I can't do this without you," she gasped. She could already feel herself start to slip back into the half-crazed animal she'd been before she met him. God only knew how far she would fall this time. Except God had died October 23, 2077.
As ever, he was her calm, solid rock. His handsome face was earnest, his whiskey brown eyes full of determination. "Yes, you can. You can and you will. Never forget your training. You're the best they have now. I saw to that."
Nora dropped her head and ground the heels of her palms against her eyes until bright strobe lights filled her vision.
She couldn't cope… she wasn't strong enough to take on this changed world without him… she needed him too much… needed him needed him needed him always and forever...
She broke down completely when Danse wrapped his arms tightly around her, anchoring her against him so she wouldn't dissipate into the air like so much dust. Or maybe into a premature grave, a welcoming grave. It felt like she was dying. She was dying. He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down her back, whispering against her temple. She couldn't hear a word he was saying - she was crying too hard. She didn't feel him rocking her back and forth because she was falling apart like a house of cards. The ace up her sleeve had just been discovered.
Something in her snapped and she was suddenly screaming, head thrown back in agony. She was screaming like she hadn't since that first day she staggered into the radioactive sunshine with bloody broken nails and lacerated vocal chords and eyes ruby red from blown blood vessels. She screamed for the man she had lost then and the man she was losing now. Her body arched against him with the effort and tendons stood out starkly in throat and fisted hands.
Aghast, he forced her back against his chest and locked her tightly against him. She struggled against his hold and begged him, frantically pleaded with him not to leave, never leave her until something deep inside her gave way and she went mute, eyes flying open with shocked surprise.
His eyes were damp and his face set and white under his sunburned tan. He too was mute. What could he possibly say in the face of her terrible grief?
He attempted to provide what little solace he could, though. He tenderly swept the back of a hand across her flushed, wet cheek, smoothing back the hair that clung to the dampness. He gently kneaded her neck and shoulders. Danse pressed her face against his throat and tucked her head under his chin. He held her tightly and allowed her to breathe his scent in one last time.
Finally, "Nora, I'm so sorry. There isn't-"
"-any other way. I know." she finished dully. "He'll kill you if you stay."
Danse nodded against her temple, his beard catching in her hair as it always did. "You understand why I have to leave, then."
"Yes. Of course," she said in a leaden voice.
She couldn't allow herself to forget that he would be alive, somewhere out there. It would be the only thing that kept her going.
No matter which direction she turned, she was destined to lose him. She, the unlucky Queen of Spades. He, the King of Hearts.
He didn't realize how much she loved him. She didn't either until that moment.
So instead of prolonging her grieving, she pulled his head down with both hands and kissed him fiercely, hungrily. She had to make a memory strong enough to keep her warm through the long, lonely nights ahead. She had to commit the dark, rich taste of his mouth and protective circle of his arms to memory. She had to retain the hitch of his breath and the sweep of his beautiful long lashes against his cheeks as he fully surrendered himself to the kiss.
Nora blindly fumbled with his opened zipper and forced it down to his sternum, where she worked her hand inside against thickly furred bare skin, urgently seeking his pounding heart. Danse groaned, then whispered her name against her mouth, whispered a demand to let him taste her, please. She tilted her head back in assent and allowed him access to the column of her throat. His lips and tongue seared into her where he sucked and laved her sensitive skin. The rough texture of his beard abraded her and marked her as his as he continued lower to nip at her collarbone and lick the hollow at the base of her throat.
Maybe he too needed something to sustain him.
The feel of him made her shake with breathtaking need, but it wasn't enough. It could never be enough. She knew that now, too late. If they weren't racing against the clock, she would undress them both and beg him to pick her up and pin her against the wall with the relentless driving of his hips until she keened his name for a different reason, and to hell with the consequences. It would be worth it just to have that memory of him too.
As it was, he was the hunted and Maxson the cunning, vicious hunter. She tenderly kissed him once again, for the road, and drew back. It was time. It was her job to intercept Maxson and allow Danse to escape to safety. She would not fail him.
After that task was complete, Shaun - no, the Director would answer one way or the other for destroying this man's life. Not for creating it, though. Never that.
Nora tugged the zipper of his uniform back in place and stared at his chest through swollen eyes. She didn't dare look up at him. Cowardly of her, but if she saw the wild emotions she felt reflected in his eyes, she'd come undone permanently.
"Once the Institute is dealt with I'm coming after you. I'll find you, I swear."
"I'll hold you to that. And I promise I'll be waiting for you. Now, come on. Let's get the hell out of here."
