The sun rises over the Commonwealth.
Suddenly the land is not as harsh, not as radiated. For one brief moment, the rising sun blinds the radiated wasteland and collapsed civilization. For one brief moment, the day is new.
But then the moment passes and the glare of the rising sun is suddenly not able to cover up the patched-up ruin of the Commonwealth. The scorched earth and dying trees reveal themselves among the wasteland and suddenly the glare of the sun is too bright and not pleasant anymore. The General sighs and closes her eyes, trying to preserve the moment before. She does this every morning in Sanctuary before the hectic demand of her daily duties begin. It gives her a chance to clear her head and be alone, Jesus to have one minute alone every day. I need at least that, she thinks.
"General?" She turns around to find Danse standing alone behind her in faded jeans and a black bomber jacket holding a mug of steaming liquid. He looks alert and awake despite the early hour; probably a result of the morning runs that he takes around the settlement every morning. His Brotherhood rituals still live on.
"You must be the only one awake in this entire settlement," The General says with a tired grin as Danse moves silently at her side.
"I've brought you some tea," he hands the mug to The General who takes it eagerly, the scent of freshly grown herbs relaxing her tense muscles.
"Thank you, Danse."
The General silently sips at her tea and gazes out at the wasteland beyond Sanctuary. A dull ache had recently begun to form in her heart over these last painful months. It seems that the beginning of her hectic journey in the Commonwealth for her son had been a distraction, a common goal that she could pursue and push aside her feelings. She had never had time to grieve about the world she had lost. She would be lying to herself if she said that, in those first few months, she had not remembered the world before the war, but it had only been at night when she journeyed alone. Instead she was constantly worrying about Shaun. Shaun, Shaun, Shaun.
And then, against impossible odds, she had found him. Older than she, he was the leader of everything she hated about the Institute. The synths that she had killed had borne his genes, her genes. He was the Father of the Institute. She had sat with him for hours as he walked her through the events of his life and his role in the Institute. He explained to her his kidnapping, Nate's death, and his future with the Institute. And then, he had asked her to make a choice. Join him or abandon him.
The General had also detected the hidden words within his statement that were not said. It wasn't simply an optioning of abandoning or staying; it was kill or be killed. Kill for the Institute or kill Shaun.
To say her heart had broken would be an understatement. She had cried, then begged, then wailed that day at the Institute before finally leaving, completely in limbo. She had neither agreed to abandon Shaun nor destroy him. She couldn't imagine doing either. Killing Shaun…She could not think about the consequences but ignoring the Institute was a travesty for the whole Commonwealth. Her whole mission, her whole ambition since stepping out of Vault 111 had been to find Shaun and destroy the Institute and now she could not fulfill.
Meanwhile, as General of the Minutemen, she focused all of her time and energy into building new settlements and relocating nomadic people into secure homes. She had halted all investigation into the Institute, much to the shock of Preston and her commanding staff. They did not discuss the Institute and she had terminated their mission to destroy it. Before, she had been a General that inspired and uplifted her people. Now, she sensed the looks of dismay among her followers and could hear the soft whisper of mutiny concerning her inaction towards the Institute. They wanted revenge and a sense of security. She could give neither.
The sound of Danse's voice knocked her out of her daydream, "We have a distress report from Jamaica Plain that came in early this morning. I wanted to wait to discuss it with you before sending any deployments."
The General sipped her tea slowly, "Go on."
"We've been receiving some…Disturbing reports from some settlements concerning attacks. Multiple settlers have claimed that rogue synths have been attacking in groups mixed with Raider bands. We ignored it at first because it sounded absurd but now…We have reason to believe that they may be telling the truth."
The General noticed now a bag that Danse slung around his chest. He reached into it and pulled out the head of a Gen 3 synth, ripped from its body. Dead mechanical eyes looked into hers as she took it into her hands. She tried not to think about Shaun's DNA encoded into every Gen 3 synth as she handed the decapitated head back to Danse, "Who gave this to you?"
"A settler from Finch Farm sent an envoy last night while you were in the strategy meeting. He said that it was from an attack a few days earlier. We suspect that this recent distress call from Jamaica Plain is a positive confirmation of a current synth attack."
The General spun away and began pacing. She clenched her fists, Dammit, Shaun.
She spun again toward Danse, who was used to this behavior from the General by now. As her third in command, right behind Preston, Danse saw the General the most out of everyone. He briefed her every morning, carried out her orders to underlings, brought her food and water, and attended to her personal affairs. Since her brief stint in the Brotherhood of Steel, Danse had been at the General's side.
The General stopped moving and fixed her eyes on him, "Danse, pack the mules with supplies and summon Preston, Hancock, MacCready, Piper, and Nick to me immediately. Grab my pack and weaponry. I'm personally seeing to the synth attacks. If this information is true it would mean a direct attack from the Institute. We'll leave for Jamaica Plain in three hours."
"Have any chems in that giant bag, steel-man?"
Danse turned around to find the former mayor of Goodneighbor grinning, his hands jammed in the pockets of his faded grey jeans, a crooked smile on his face, "Of course not, and even if there were, it would be highly inappropriate for me to reveal the contents of the General's bag," Danse replied stiffly.
"Oh so it's the General's personal bag is it? I wonder what hidden gems she has in there," Hancock laughed and fell into step with Danse, "You gotta wonder what she does in her private time, if you know what I mean."
"I assure you, I do not," Danse started strapping the General's bag onto one of the two mules standing at the entrance to Sanctuary, "Hasn't the General already summoned you anyway?"
"She did, she did," Hancock pulled out a dispenser of Jet and took a quick hit, much to the dismay of Danse, "All she did was ask me to go with her on some ass-kicking synth mission to Jamaica Plain to save the settlers from an attack."
Danse paused as he adjusted the straps on the mule, "She asked you to go?"
"Yeah, got a problem with that steel-man?"
Danse shook his head and finished strapping the pack. In truth, he had been hoping that the General would ask him to attend. After all, they had fought countless battles together. They knew how to fight together perfectly, almost down to an art. There were few battles where the General hadn't asked Danse to attend and the ones where she hadn't, Danse had sat awake all night with worry.
It's not your business to question the decisions of the General, Danse thought, Forget it.
"…Don't understand why you're personally supervising this mission."
"Because I said so, and that's final. The safety of the settlers and viability of the synth attacks is a threat to all of our settlements."
Danse turned to find Preston, his face crunched up in confusion, half-jogging beside the General as she walked swiftly through the bustle of the expedition. The General's eyes quickly surveyed the situation, her red hair falling in front of her shoulders as she turned to Preston, "Do I make myself clear?"
Preston slumped his shoulders slightly in resignation, "Yes, General."
You can never win an argument with the General, Danse grinned.
She caught Danse's eye at the moment of his grin. He tried to wipe the smirk off of his face before he caught the quick smile from the General, so fast that it was already gone. Danse blushed.
"Alright everyone, gather around me please," The General's voice echoed among Sanctuary as the settlers converged, "Today, I and a group of Minutemen will leave for Jamaica Plain to assist with a distress call that we received last night. We have reason to believe that synths are involved with an ongoing assault against our brothers and sisters." There was a slight gasp from the crowd, "I know, I know. But we have been faced with the threat of synths before. And like the other times, we will overcome our adversaries with the strength and swiftness that only the Minutemen can deliver. We'll be home with a message of victory in a few days' time. In the meantime, Preston will be in charge. All concerns must be taken to him. I'm also taking Hancock, MacCready, Piper, Nick, and Danse with me on this mission so I expect double shifts from those farming our food to ensure that we don't fall behind on our crops. Wish us luck, we'll be back before you know it."
The speech was met with cheers and chants of "Minutemen, minutemen!" The General blushed and the procession started to move some soldiers in front, followed by the mules. Danse caught her eye and she came over to him, "You didn't expect me to leave you behind, did you?"
Danse smiled, "You could have fooled me, General."
The General snorted as they started walking, "We're partners, Danse. I won't be leaving you any time soon."
Danse gazed at The General as she looked towards the procession, her red hair set aflame against the sun, and hoped that that time would never come.