Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Trigger warning for mentions of death, grief and mourning, and suicidal ideation. Thanks for encouraging me to write this series and staying with me through the journey. :) The quoted poem is Frances Ellen Watkins Harper's 'The Sparrow's Fall'.
…
Sparrow survived and saw the Commonwealth United Republic be formally recognised by Mayor McDonough, who had a tragically fatal accident a few months later. The Railroad had taught her the necessity of carefully wielded ruthlessness as Arthur Maxson had failed to do.
The first President of the Commonwealth, much to his dismay, was John Hancock of Goodneighbour. The ghoul turned out to be an enlightened but somewhat anarchistic leader, retiring from the position after his four-year term and returning to his home settlement. The following Presidents over the next twenty years were a mixed bag – some good, some average, one truly awful and put on trial for crimes not publicly recorded but instead put in the secret archives.
But at nearly fifty years of age, the pure uncorrupted genetics that made the Finlays so precious to the Institute were failing her as the rads finally got to her. X6-88 wanted her to upload her brain to a new synth body while Hancock offered to help her become a ghoul.
Sparrow refused. She was exquisitely mortal, broken and brilliant, compassionate and cruel, and finite in her mortality. She would die and go to whatever fate awaited mortals on the other side.
Synths, much like ghouls, did not age past a certain point. Danse and Shaun, who'd grown into a strapping young man with Nate's face and eyes, her rosy skin and hair that was between her chestnut-brown and his jet-black strands, were still vital and strong. Her synth family, a replacement for what was lost; Deacon's gut stab left her unable to bear more children, which was heartbreakingly relieving to Sparrow. No more children to be taken from her.
In the Prydwen's medi-bay, Danse held the frail hand of his dying wife. The final cruelty of the Institute, denying him the ability to age, to join her in that long journey into the twilight. Only battle or accident could remove him from this world. He wondered, briefly, if her refusal to become a synth or ghoul had everything to do with her being reunited with Nate and the human Shaun in the afterlife. That wasn't a question even he could ask her.
"Colonel Danse? There's an incoming vertibird from the Capital Brotherhood." One of the Initiates stuck her head inside. "What do I do?"
Though he was no longer a Paladin in name, Danse had trained most of the successive generations of Paladins and Knights after Brandis died. He still wore power armour and still commanded respect from the Commonwealth Brotherhood of Steel, but he was no longer of the fraternity and the scars still lingered.
"Who's on board?" Danse asked as Sparrow stirred weakly.
"Elder Maxson, sir."
"Let him on board." Sparrow's words were soft but clear.
"Yes, Elder." The Initiate saluted and left.
Danse's grip tightened around Sparrow's fingers. "What the hell does he want?"
"To say goodbye?" Sparrow shrugged weakly.
The synth wished that Maxson could be anywhere else. News from the Capital Wasteland was that he ruled with an iron fist as ruler in his own name, a grim synthesis of conservative Brotherhood values and the compassion taught to him by the Lyons. But he had never come to the Commonwealth, not again, though occasionally messages were exchanged between Elders.
Too soon, far too soon, Maxson was filling the doorway in his iconic battlecoat, stark shock painting his face. He was still broad-chested and heavy-shouldered, scar-faced and bearded, but there was grey streaking that brown hair and his blue eyes were colder than before.
If the young Maxson Danse had known had been a prince, this one was a battle-hardened king.
"Sparrow." The man's voice, still raspy and guttural, cracked and he cleared his throat. "What-?"
"Cancer. Just like my son," Sparrow answered with the grim quirk of her mouth. "Why the social call?"
Danse rose to leave. Though he was trusted with many things, the Proctors insisted that internal Brotherhood business was none of his concern. But Maxson waved at him to sit down before taking the other chair.
"No social call," the Elder rasped. "I assume you're fairly up to date on Western Brotherhood business?"
Danse knew that after Maxson's defeat and exile from the Commonwealth, his legend had been shattered and the tentative alliance between Brotherhood chapters shattered. The Midwest had merged with the Capital Brotherhood and the Outcasts stayed with Maxson while the Lost Hills chapter went its own way. The fate of the others was unknown.
"I stopped receiving messages from Lost Hills after I returned the head of the last assassin they sent," Sparrow said dryly as she sat up in her chair.
"The Mojave and Lost Hills chapters merged to resist the NCR," Maxson elaborated dryly. "They bled the Republic dry."
"Oh hell." Sparrow had always made noises about reaching out to the NCR but because things were always troubled in the Commonwealth, she'd never gotten the chance to send a messenger. "What happened?"
"Caesar's Legion – a charming group of psychopathic murderers – wiped out the NCR and tried to take New Vegas in revenge for some insult or another," Maxson replied grimly. "It didn't work because the Courier joined forces with the Brotherhood chapters there and defeated them."
"The update on Western Brotherhood activities is interesting, but why are you here?" Danse asked bluntly. Maxson was interrupting time with his dying wife.
"Because the Western Brotherhood has decreed war on us, the Eastern Brotherhood, as heretics," Arthur said flatly. "They've incorporated the remnants of Caesar's Legion and the NCR into their ranks and so long as New Vegas is left alone, the Courier will support them."
Sparrow looked at him penetratingly and said, "You need the Prydwen."
"I need the Prydwen," Maxson confirmed. "I'd hoped that the Commonwealth would join the Capital Wasteland in alliance, but if you're dying…"
"For alliance, you'll need to speak to Sonia Garvey, the current President, and the Council," Sparrow said quietly. "You know that there are ghouls and synths on the Council, right?"
Maxson grimaced but nodded. "I do. And at the moment, I'll take the synths and the ghouls over the Western Brotherhood. You're not the only one who was targeted by assassins."
Sparrow studied her fellow Elder for a moment and then nodded. "I'll give you your toy back, Maxson, on two conditions."
"What are they?"
"One, you allow the Commonwealth Brotherhood to abide by its rules, not yours. I'm sure you noticed the gentleman who would have greeted you at the front door was a synth. I also have some ghoul Scribes."
Maxson's face screwed up in distaste but he nodded.
"And two, Danse is reinstated as Paladin. I couldn't override the Proctors because I'm his wife, but you can."
Danse's fingers dug into Sparrow's frail hand until he realised he was hurting her and loosened the grip. "Sparrow-"
"I'm going to be dead soon," she interrupted quietly. "Shaun has his family in Diamond City but what will you do when I'm gone?"
"I'd intended to join you," he admitted softly. "You are my life."
"I was your life after the Brotherhood threw you out," she corrected gently, brushing his cheek with thin fingers. "I have people waiting for me on the other side but when I'm dead, who will you have?"
"I never realised what I lost when I gave the orders to kill Danse until I returned to the Capital Wasteland and the Brotherhood politics there," Maxson said slowly, interrupting the conversation. "I'll not only reinstate Danse to the Brotherhood, I'll raise him to Sentinel."
"Thank you, Arthur," Sparrow said with a grateful smile. "My successor's Haylen as Elder. Shaun wanted to live his own life, so he never became a Squire, and she's… well, been the most loyal."
"Done." Maxson's face had returned to its usual frown. "Sparrow, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"For what? If you hadn't been such an ass, the Commonwealth United Republic wouldn't have happened," she retorted amusedly.
Maxson gave a half-laugh, half-snort. "You always had a knack for putting people in their place."
"I know," she said complacently. "Are you done? I'd like to spend a little more time with my husband before he leaves me."
Maxson, for the first time Danse had ever seen, saluted her. "Ad Victoriam, sister."
Sparrow saluted him in return. "Ad Victoriam, brother."
The Elder left and Danse looked at his wife. "I'm not leaving you," he insisted.
"Yes, you are." And it wasn't the frail, mortal woman who replied, but the Elder of the Commonwealth Brotherhood. "I need to know that you will go on after I leave you."
Danse suddenly shuddered and choked out a sob, crushing Sparrow's hand with the tightness of his grip. "As you command… Elder."
Her face slackened with relief, still lovely despite the creases of pain and age. X6 and Shaun had never understood her refusal of immortality but in this moment, seeing the luminous quality of her rich brown eyes, Danse understood and envied her mortality.
"I love you, my soldier of steel," she whispered. "Now go. Keep Maxson out of trouble."
"I love you too," he choked out, "And always will. Ad Victoriam."
"Ad Victoriam." Sparrow fell back into the bed, releasing his hand.
Danse rose to his feet, saluted the Elder of the Commonwealth Brotherhood of Steel, and turned for the power armour bay.
From war he had come, to war he would return.
Then he stopped, looking over his shoulder. "You never told me why your parents called you Sparrow."
Her smile was sweet and lovely and sad. "It's from an old poem: 'Too frail to soar - a feeble thing - It fell to earth with fluttering wing/But God, who watches over all, beheld that little sparrow's fall'."
She breathed the rest of the poem as Danse listened, transfixed by its haunting verses:
"''Twas not a bird with plumage gay,
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.
Only a brown and weesome thing,
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Its dying chirp fell on His ears,
Who tunes the music of the spheres,
Who hears the hungry lion's call,
And spreads a table for us all.
Its mission of song at last is done,
No more will it greet the rising sun;
That tiny bird has found a rest
More calm than its mother's downy breast
Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust
In God, so tender, strong and just;
In whose love and mercy everywhere
His humblest children have a share.
If in love He numbers ev'ry hair,
Whether the strands be dark or fair,
Shall we not learn to calmly rest,
Like children, on our Father's breast?'"
She smiled sweetly, lovingly, and closed her eyes. Danse saw the rise and fall of her chest, and with a breaking heart, turned away once more.
To war he was born and to war he would return. But for her and in memory of her, he would fight to protect, to save… to love.
Ad Victoriam, my sparrow, Ad Victoriam. Ut semper diligam te.
I will always love you.