Brotherhood: Games We Play Side Story
Part One
Notes: I've kinda been kicking around the idea of seeing how Haylen deals with being the sole survivor of the Brotherhood massacre. Here goes.
The first day in Covenant, all Haylen can do is cry. If the Brotherhood could see her now, she'd be embarrassed - it's not very soldierly behavior, to lock oneself in a room any cry, but then again, she's not a soldier anymore. She doesn't know who she is, or what.
She thinks of the squires on the Prydwen; their young lives snuffed out in an instant. Even from here, halfway across the Commonwealth, she could see the explosion. It's early, no one else from the Railroad up and about, and she's been standing by the gate, trying to decide whether to leave or to stay. There's a bright light against the dawn sky - and she knows.
The Paladin did this. That was why she told Haylen to grab Rhys and to flee; because she was planning a massacre.
Haylen drops her hand from the gate and trudges back to the small house up the hill, to the place Desdemona told her she could stay until things got sorted out. The whole way up the hill, she can feel Rhys' hand in her own,but of course he's not there.
He stayed. He died for his brothers.
Perhaps she should have done the same.
It's late in the evening when the Paladin returns. Haylen can barely open her eyes to look at the other woman, not that she wants to. There's a rustle of blankets and the mattress sinks as the Paladin sits on the bed, and Haylen keeps her eyes down, on the rough fabric of her Brotherhood-issue pants.
The silence stretches between them, a taut, hateful thing.
Finally: "I didn't want to do this."
Well, that's just the last fucking straw.
"Then you shouldn't have," Haylen hisses at her through gritted teeth, eyes flaming as she looks up at the woman she thought was her friend. Her sister.
The Paladin's face is sad, the line of her mouth tilted downwards, not in empathy but in something else. Regret? Sorrow?
Haylen doesn't give a shit.
"They attacked us first. We could have worked together but -"
"Why me?" The voice that comes out of her is unrecognizable in its harsh tone; it's laced with fury, with hatred. Where's all this coming from, a small part of her wonders. It's not like she was sure she belonged there.
They didn't all have to die just because I wasn't happy.
The Paladin thinks for a long moment, and Haylen begins to wonder if the other woman even understood her. Then: "I thought you might be sympathetic to our cause. That you might be an asset to the Railroad."
The laugh that barks out of Haylen is ugly, odious; when she opens her mouth she tastes salt and realizes she began crying again. Fuck - she doesn't want to look weak in front of the Paladin, and so she scrubs her eyes roughly with the back of her hand, with the coarse fabric of her sleeve.
"Why the hell would you think that?"
"Because of Danse."
Oh. It all starts to make sense now.
"You killed him," Haylen hisses, sitting up more on the bed and hand reaching for her gun automatically. At the other end of the bed, the Paladin watches her but doesn't stop her hand, doesn't say a word. "You killed him because Maxson told you to and now all of a sudden I'm supposed to believe you're some big-ass Railroad bitch who saves synths? Fuck you."
"I didn't." The Paladin's voice is quiet but calm. Must be nice to have a conscience so clear.
"Didn't what?"
"I didn't kill him." Their eyes meet, and Haylen's hand folds around her laser pistol. It'd be so easy to shoot her - but, what, wait?
"What do you mean?" She shivers involuntarily. "But Maxson said -"
"Maxson lied," the Paladin says it in the same tone. Calm, assured. "He wanted Danse dead but - well, I couldn't. Not him, not after everything he did for me. Not after...what you said."
It has to be a lie. It has to be a fabrication; all this woman knows is lies, Haylen is sure of it. She lifts the pistol, flips the safety off, and points it at the Paladin.
"I don't believe you." Her voice is steady, if not calm. She can kill in cold blood; she can avenge.
But the Paladin just sighs. She looks tired. Haylen's heard a day of mass murder can do that to you.
"Believe me or not, it's true either way. He was going to lay low at Listening Post Bravo if you want to see for yourself." She stands, stretches, and walks out the door, leaving Haylen to sit there with her pistol pointed at open air and a look of surprise on her face.
That night, she dreams of Rhys. After so many years of flirtation and long glances, they'd only been together that one time, the night after Worwick died. Danse had been on watch, and she'd been crying in the bedroom when the door creaked open. She'd been staring at her hands, wondering how she could kill one of her own, and when she heard footsteps, she'd rolled over, putting her back to the door.
She hadn't wanted anyone to see her like that.
Footsteps had approached and then there was the welcome feeling of the mattress shifting as someone sat next to her, the warmth of a back against her own. The smell of tobacco and something antiseptic, and a calloused hand on her side.
Rhys. Of all people to see her like this -
"It's okay," he'd said to her, and she'd stopped crying out of pure shock. "It's okay," he'd repeated, and for a moment she'd thought he was right; it all would be okay. She'd been so stunned, she rolled over and looked at him in the dim light. His hand had shifted, rubbing up between her shoulder blades, and she'd let out a dry, shuddering sigh, then sat up.
Their bodies had been close together; too close, really, for the fraternal relationship they were supposed to have, and when he'd looked at her, all she could see was the kindness he'd always shown her. So she'd kissed him.
When she wakes up from the dream - or is it a memory? - the bed is cold around her. She's alone again, the only one. No more brothers, no more sisters. No more Rhys to comfort her in the dark, or to laugh at her silly jokes.
It's still dark, although there's a hint of light coming from the east. Dawn. It's been almost a full day now since -
She gathers her things quickly, in silence. There's precious little of it, so she supplements with a couple cans of pork 'n' beans, a can of water, a box of Dandy Boy Apples. On a whim she stuffs an opened but barely-touched carton of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes into her bag as well, along with ammunition and a few stimpacks. Covenant isn't far; if she leaves now, she could make it to the bunker by lunchtime.
The door swings open silently and Haylen makes her way down the hill.
The Paladin stands at the gate, waiting. Waiting for her? Haylen isn't sure, but the other woman doesn't look surprised to see her.
"Going to see Danse?"
"Fuck you," Haylen says. Although she said it the day before, it still feels weird to say the words out loud. She'd never been much for cursing before; then again, she's never lost a thousand brothers and sisters in one day before. She wonders if she's spinning out of control, then decides she doesn't care.
The Paladin just opens the gate and, as Haylen steps through, stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"You have a place here, if you want it. Please...don't blame them for what I did."
Her eyes are sad again, and Haylen wants more than anything to punch her in the face, but she doesn't. Instead she turns, shoving the other woman's hand off her roughly, and starts down the road.