Disclaimer: I do not own fallout.


Danse wasn't big on stealth, he posited that taking the vertibird right above the settlement and jumping down like some kind of human meteor, guns blazing was the best course of action.

Of course, Danse didn't refer to it as 'jumping down guns blazing', rather, he referred to it as a 'tactical entrance', but The Vault Dweller knew that the proper name for it was 'suicide.' Luckily, Danse wasn't in charge of this particular escapade, so in the end the two landed a short, safe distance away from University Point instead.

As they made their way to the skeletal settlement The Vault Dweller made sure to mentally curl himself into a ball and store all his thoughts of Curie and Nick into the deepest, most pacifistic and understanding recesses of his mind in preparation for the coming storm. They were different, after all, Curie had only become a synth recently, and Nick was completely sentient. If they were ever forced into such a slaughter, he had faith that they'd choose to do the right thing.

Perhaps if the first generation ever attained sentience and made the same choice, they would also choose to protect others. He had to believe in that fact, even in a climate like the brotherhood's, for the sake of his friends.

At least humanity's capacity for violence is already well documented, makes it something far easier to believe in.

Surprisingly, however, he wasn't the only one who was being quiet. Danse was also staying silent, which was unexpected. Considering his usual fervour when dealing with the institute's crimes, The Vault Dweller had been expecting him to be more outspoken in regards to what the institute had done to the area, but he seemed rather tight lipped all in all.

The silence even convinced him to relax for a while, walking down the building and occasionally picking up some of the used salvage- before the bullet ridden institute synth frames that had been destroyed in the incursion came into view and promptly opened the paladin's floodgates.

"You see this?" He exclaimed, pointing accusatorily at the metal corpse "This is what happens when humanity's destructive impulses go too far. How many people died here, too these things"

"They don't have free will Danse."

"The very fact that weapons like this exist is enough to warrant their destruction." Danse continued sternly, no doubt noting his disinterest. "These things can kill and build each other. An army like this could destroy all of humanity"

"They actually said the same thing about protectrons 200 years ago."

"Really?"

"Yes, but they still use them."

He appeared to mull it over for a second, before his voice darkened,"You trying to say something?"

"Don't know." The Vault Dweller replied innocently.

On the way out, they walked past five more synth frames, but no one said anything. He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried about that.

Unfortunately, as time went on and they walked through more and more ashes and destroyed buildings, The Vault Dweller wasn't sure if he preferred the oppressive silence. It allowed the thoughts and implications of the world to crowd his head, confusing and depressing him, and the empty air soon began to lend itself to paranoia, to the point that every stray sound and shadow seemed to contain infinite enemies. Before he knew it, The Vault Dweller became desperate for conversation, despite himself.

"I will say one thing, though." he breathed, hoping he wasn't being too transparent, "they sure are efficient..." he said, gesturing to the emptiness of the town around them. Just a few months ago, there had been people here, but aside from the synth bodies, there was no sign anyone had ever lived or fought or died here.

Danse seemed to realize what he meant without needing clarification, "It's probably because they use lasers." he explained, "It would've vapourized any evidence."

The Vault Dweller mused on that for a moment, it was true after all, he'd seen laser weapons vapourize his enemies more than once on the battlefield, but even so, it didn't account for this kind of destruction. The institute had come here with the intention of salting the earth, and it showed.

"If it's just the lasers at work here-" he noted casually, "then I guess the brotherhood would be just as efficient."

Danse scoffed at that, "The institute destroys everything," he said, spitefully kicking the skeleton across the dusted courtyard, "but the brotherhood knows not to waste anything, we're nothing like them."

"Even so," he added, voice grim, "If those soldiers attacked the settlement with the same intentions as the institute… then it might be hard to find out what happened. Whether to exonerate or condemn."

The Vault Dweller felt his brow furrow, "I'd like to imagine that soldiers of the brotherhood wouldn't take such intentions."

Danse sighed "So would I."


The area was just as he remembered it, all broken buildings and and burnt forestry. The fact that people had once lived in the vicinity seemed impossible, but he guessed you could say that for the whole wasteland.

It only took half an hour of walking through this devastation for them to reach the settlement. It looked like any other part of the wasteland, just burnt homes and charred bones, the ashes of the people who had lived there having long since blown away in the wind.

When The Vault Dweller had first passed through there, he'd assumed it was just that, just another part of the desolate country, but now, looking closer and knowing what he knew, he could see a few signs of life.

Peeled paint, oily and damp from neglect, the charred cinders of a tato harvest in the garden, a blackened doll for a blackened cott inside a haphazard metal shack of a house. All burned black and cinder.

Furthermore, closer inspection of the burns revealed that it was the result of concentrated flamer fire, meaning that, whatever had happened, it had lead to the brotherhood or settlers to have purposely torching their own houses.

It made him feel sick.

Truthfully he would rather not think on the implications over some of these, over the actions of the people he'd joined, he had to find the truth first, not only on what had happened, but also what it meant.

I know that there are good people in the brotherhood, there's a good person right next to me.

...I wonder what he thinks of all this, he thought, stealing a glance at the paladin, who was striding off into the town with an air of grim silence, his thoughts would be invaluable in judging what happened here.

Even so, he was still hesitant to broach the subject. If he did, it would be unsteady ground from there on in regards to their relationship, and while the two owed each other their lives several times over by now, those kinds of debts wouldn't hold weight if the paladin started to think of him as treachorous.

Danse is my gateway into the brotherhood, a small, conspiratorial voice in the back of his mind noted, he's the only reason they look on me as more than another recruit. Do I really want to alienate that?

But, yet another voice noted, if he really thinks the worst of what happened here, and everything is as the scribe said, do I really even want his help?

But if you lose favour in the brotherhood, you may never find Shaun. Is it worth it?

'Is it worth it?' That question was really what all of this was about, wasn't it. Was his son worth the wasteland? Worth Nick and Curie and all the other people who the brotherhood stood a possible danger to -worth all of the settlements and lives that might be destroyed if he stepped wrong here?

Well when you say it like that, he thought, nearly chuckling to himself, I've already decided haven't I. From the moment I chose to risk my life saving those Minutemen, rather than protect it so I could find my son, I'd already set my priorities in order.

In that case, I have to ask. That thought in mind, he steeled his shoulders and got Danse's attention.

"So" he began, hoping that his cordial tone would make it sound less like an accusation and more like curiosity, "what do you think of the fact that it was apparently Brotherhood men that did all this."

"That?" Danse scoffed, quickly and without hesitation, "That's easy. They're dead."

The Vault Dweller blinked, surprised at his merciless condemnation, "Huh?"

"-Well, maybe not dead," Danse continued, ignoring his outburst, "but they're getting well beyond a court martial at this point. Unless there's a fact that proves them innocent hidden here somewhere."

The Vault Dweller continued blinking.

"They'll have a trial of course," Danse continued, no doubt taking his dumbfounded silence as approval, "but between you and me, it's impossible to get away with something like this," he explained, gesturing at the burnt husk of a farm. "Unless there's some hidden piece of evidence here that proves that they were framed or someone else did this, they're -well -dead, or at least in for a lifetime of incarceration."

The Vault Dweller couldn't even interject, having not really been expecting that. Both the scribe and the scout had told him that Danse was the kind of man who was flawlessly loyal to the brotherhood, to hear him condemning his own men like this...

Maybe these guys aren't so bad, he thought, ecstatic, before souring, though that doesn't explain why The Wanderer is so critical of them, maybe there's more to this.

Or, he thought, souring, maybe Danse was right, and she was lying the whole time.

He shook the thoughts from his mind, as they were hardly important right now. They had to find her before they could poke those kinds of holes in a story, "then are there any circumstances where the brotherhood could justify this?" he asked instead, curiosity and hope burning in equal measure.

"Of course there is. We're an army, do you think that armies that come up on a village can just ask the people to leave nicely?"

"Well, that's true." The Vault Dweller admitted, the short lived flame of hope sputtering out under the cold weight of reality. He'd been in an army himself, after all, and while he'd have liked to think that war crimes like this never happened, back in the resource wars, any chinese had been game. They were all the enemy.

But maybe that was wrong back then too, he thought uncomfortably, maybe the chinese were just people who didn't want to fight. Like us... like this settlement.

All the more reason to avenge them if what the scribe said is true, I suppose, though it's good to know the brotherhood would stand with me in that decision.

"-Then what kind of justifications does the brotherhood accept?" he probed, eager for more of the information that Danse seemed to so easily give, "Other than the usual."

"Well that depends on what you'd classify as usual," Danse replied quizzically, "though I can definitely tell you that they'd need to define the entire settlement as an enemy combatant. But that'd be difficult these days-"

"Because everyone who lives in the wasteland needs a weapon." The Vault Dweller finished the paladin's thought for him.

"...Exactly." Danse affirmed, directing at him what The Vault Dweller assumed was a stare "People can't survive without weapons, so you can't define a civilian just by their incapacity for harm anymore, they'd need to be ideological enemies."

So a village of synths or ghouls, The Vault Dweller thought, deflating, well I expected that much. It seems like they won't shoot any old wastelander, at least.

"Of course," his friend added with some consideration, "the other option is if the settlers attacked them with the intent to harm, but…"

"But?"

"Even if the entire settlement did attack them, we'd still need to punish them."

"What! Why?" The Vault Dweller, exclaimed, almost coughing up a cloud of ash in his shock. Why would they do that, it would be cruel to their own soldiers?

Danse went silent at that, for a moment, taking a long look at the burned rafters and ashes in the wind.

"This reminds you of university point," he said, gesturing at the desolate houses, "-doesn't it. No, maybe a little less efficient."

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing it. I'm just pointing out that the people of the commonwealth have been dealing with the institute -with shit like this- for generations," he explained, holding no spite back from his words "After dealing with that, it's only natural that they'd see an unknown like the brotherhood as dangerous."

"What happened here-" he added, an earnest tone edging his voice as he turned to the town around them -to the peeled paint and the burned dolls and everything that made The Vault Dweller sick "-will only make them see us as enemies when we're only here to help." at that point, the earnestness dropped from his voice, replaced by a cold hard determination.

"That's why if someone threatens them -even one of our own- and shows them such a ...problematic side… they need to be eliminated. Publicly."

He stopped there, with a feeling like the world letting out a breath, after all, it wasn't often that soldiers had to let out an oratory like that.

Even so, The Vault Dweller wasn't impressed. Not that he was angry with Danse or anything, after all, the paladins heart had clearly been in it, but he just couldn't take a speech like that at face anymore. Not after the old world and its 'glorious wars' of cannon fodder.

Strip away all the paint and when you get down to it it's not about the wasteland, he thought, gut sinking, It's about their image -their image as an organization who'll defend the commonwealth from the institute. For the sake of that, they'll prioritize the wellbeing of the people above even their own soldiers. Just or not.

It wasn't exactly a bad policy, in fact, it would be ideal in keeping the brotherhood from devolving into war crimes the way the government had during the resource wars-

"-But that's all just pretense isn't it."

"Huh?"

"Once this is all over and the institute is done with-" The Vault Dweller continued, locking onto the paladin with a piercing glare, "-what'll you be defending the wastelanders from then?"

"The super mutants and raiders and every other danger in these parts," The paladin answered, staring at him like he'd just grown a second head, "seems pretty obvious really."

The Vault Dweller raised a brow, "not the Minutemen?"

"Of course not," Danse said quickly, so quick that The Vault Dweller couldn't tell if it was rehearsed or not, "by the time we're done, the wasteland'll be safe enough that there won't need to be any wastelanders risking their lives as Minutemen anymore."


Having traded their thoughts on the debacle, the two took to the search in an orderly fashion. They separated the jobs, hoping that by leaving Danse to take to searching the houses, while The Vault Dweller had taken the backyards and road that said houses were lined up along they could get results faster.

Of course, a hope was far different from a reality, and although said road had been rather short, with failure after failure mounting on their shoulders, it was starting to feel all too long.

"See anything that wasn't here last time?" Danse asked for the umpteenth time, head sticking out from the latest house.

The Vault Dweller shook his head heavily, worries already weighing darkly on his mind. The two had been searching for any clue as to either the incident or The Wanderer's whereabouts for an hour already, but to his consternation they'd found nothing on either.

"No worries," Danse sighed, noticing his distress, "we've still got a few houses to go."

Figures it'd be the last ones, The Vault Dweller thought, groaning at the tediousness in spite of the attempt to relieve him, but at least he has a point, there's still chance of something important in the next few, so it's too early to give up hope.

That thought in mind, he began taking to the next houses backyard, he'd already given the makeshift road a lookover at least twice, but there was a chance that he'd missed something in the yards. That was when he saw the graveyard, it's lined memorials and burned fences pulling his attention and holding him in place.

At first, he couldn't pinpoint what about that graveyard had caught his eye. It was about what you'd expect, really. Empty space, broken fences and a pack of graves for those that had passed, with fifty six in all. All of the graves had clearly been made with skill and care, furthermore, all of them had been made with the same distinctive carving and style and wood.

All of them had been struck by the same flamer fire as the rest of the settlement, too, he noted with a heavy heart, all of them, except the fifty sixth.

It had to have been the fifty sixth that had caught his eye for a split second, and he was glad it had, because it was all but the clue he'd been hoping for. An anomaly, the fifty sixth grave was nothing more than a piece of wood that had been strung together by some rags and string in the shape of a makeshift cross. Furthermore, there didn't appear to be a grave under it, as the dirt had clearly gone undisturbed, and it was largely unburned.

Someone came here after and put it up, obviously, he thought, heart sinking at the reminder of the atrocity that had happened almost as much as it rose from the discovery, a memorial for the entire settlement.

But this still isn't evidence that The Wanderer herself is here. Although it is odd to see a cross when every other grave here is a carving or tombstone.

I guess there's no choice but to ask "Hey Danse!" he called, turning away from the cross for a moment to look at the house the paladin was in.

"What is it?" his friend called back, leaving the house and running over to him.

"I was wondering if The Wanderer was -or is -a christian?"

"A christian?"Danse repeated, sounding oblivious, "I couldn't say, since I've never been to any of the monasteries. Besides" he added dryly, "If they're anything like those children of the atom, I wouldn't want to."

"I doubt they're not like that!" The Vault Dweller exclaimed, cringing at the comparison between the bloodthirsty group and the harmless neighbors who'd practiced in the old world. At least I'd seriously hope not.

"Well you'll have to find that out for yourself, I'm not setting foot in a place like that." the paladin grunted, "more importantly, is there anything about this place that makes you think The Wanderer might be one of them?"

"It's just that the christians often built their graves as crosses like this," The Vault Dweller explained, "to wish peace for their dead in the afterlife."

"What!?" -his friend all but exploded, almost driving The Vault Dweller to leap away in alarm- "what did you say!?"

"I'm sorry!?" he exclaimed, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "did I say something wrong?"

"I- ...no" Danse said eventually, clearly trying to get his emotions in order, "- no you didn't, I just -I just never realized they were graves, that's all."

"I...see." The Vault Dweller responded, eager to not press the issue.

But just what about them being graves would make him lose his composure like that? The Vault Dweller thought worriedly, slowly idling closer, he mentioned seeing them before, so it must be the meaning of the cross itself...

"...As for your initial question," Danse continued, so calmly that the only way you could tell he was bothered was the slight tremor of anger in his voice, "it's not unfounded, since she did tend to build things like this for the people who she failed to protect."

"Raiders too," he added, exasperated, "for whatever reason."

The Vault Dweller, who had been in a quiet shock thanks to his friends explosion, was knocked back to reality by the absurdity of it. "Raiders, really?"

"Really." his friend confirmed shortly, before looking at the cross with an aura of anger, "Now if that's all, I should get back to work. I've seen enough graves to last a lifetime."

"But I thought you didn't know what it meant..." The Vault Dweller muttered, confused.

"It would've been better if I hadn't. Now I do, I never want to see one of these things again."

However, in spite of having declared his intention to leave the graveyard, Danse, oddly enough, failed to do so. Instead he hung around, at points seeming to agonize over wanting to tell him something, but ultimately stopping himself every time.

"Whatever you want to say, you don't have to tell me now." The Vault Dweller reminded him, taking some pity on the man after three whole minutes of the display. After all, I know what it's like to not want to confront something yet.

"...but I do," Danse replied, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, sounding for all the world like he was being torn apart by grief, "because you're going to meet her right now, and I want you to know that this is the kind of grave she built for my comrades."

The world seemed to freeze at that. Colours fading into silent grey in the wake of the paladins words. Even The Vault Dweller's blood seemed to freeze, heart going cold in visceral realization of exactly the history of the woman he was dealing with.

He'd known about the war, of course, or at least some sort of internal strife, he'd known that it had been bloody and cruel and that people refused to speak of it.

He also knew that, initially, The Wanderer hadn't been on Maxson's side and she'd killed a few paladins in her heyday.

He'd known all that, but hearing the sadness in Danse's voice had made him feel like he could appreciate the tragedy of it again, properly and on more than an intellectual level.

"There were so many." Danse muttered, sounding honestly bewildered, "And I never understood what they were until now. And I- I just don't get it. Who just shoots someone and builds a grave for them?"

The Vault Dweller wanted to respond, wanted to say something, anything, but when the world was frozen like this, silence was all he could manage.

But maybe silence was all he could give to a man he'd dragged on a rescue mission for his worst enemy.

"Who would be that much of a hypocrite?"

Maybe anything else would be an empty consolation, when even now he still planned to talk to such a person before anything else.

Wanderer, you have a lot of explaining to do.


So this grave could very well have been done by her, since it's the kind she was known for. The kind of graves she built for everyone she killed, from raiders to paladins.

The Vault Dweller what to think of it all, but he'd taken the confirmation to heart nonetheless.

Well, that and one other thing. Caution. Caution for a person who'd killed enough paladins that Danse apparently saw enough crosses to know it on sight, even if he hadn't known what they'd meant.

This person isn't just sunshine and rainbows, I know that, and yet she built a grave for this settlement -for raiders.

Only a saint could build graves for raiders, he thought, shaking his head at all of it, before turning his head back to the badly made cross, but a saint wouldn't kill her own. Altogether it's just unbelievable.

He supposed the only thing he could do in that case was wait to ask her about it then. After all, there was a growing list of contradictory and hard to believe things that he'd heard of the woman that he needed to ask her about already, so one more wasn't too incredible.

It's already hard enough to connect the person I met on inspection to the cold-blooded, traitorous murderer Danse apparently knows.

Now she's apparently hard enough to shoot paladins, but soft enough to honour them afterwards.

In a way it was degrading, to drag paladins down to the levels of raiders and treat them as equally worthy of honour in death, even though one would supposedly defend towns and one would attack them.

She must have thought there was something equally worthy of honour in all of them, maybe because she was a christian, or maybe because she'd decided to live her way like that,

The Vault Dweller didn't know if he could empathize with such an act. Not after having read the terminals documenting the raiders exploits in all of his missions near them. The terminals had been like an exploration into the raiders minds, and while it had certainly been… humanizing, in a sense, it hadn't exactly painted the most sympathetic picture.

Maybe if I get a chance to talk to her, she can tell me what drove her to do that...

And what drove her to kill her fellows, as well.

He was still musing on that when the paladin came up behind him, his movements surprisingly quiet upon the grass, and knocked him from the reverie with a heavy armoured hand on his shoulder.

"Sssssh," he whispered, "Sorry if I surprised you."

"I had no idea you could be that quiet!" The Vault Dweller whispered back.

"Trained for everything," he shrugged, "good thing too, otherwise I'd have woken her up."

"Woken who -you found her."

"The very one." his friend said grimly, "I'll take you to her, but remember to go quiet.


True to the paladin's word, when he found her, The Wanderer was curled up on a bedroll and dead to the world, the shack around her a chaotic mess of burnt wood and empty cans.

She was sleeping upon a rare patch of unburned quality wood, and beside her stood the criminal suit of stolen power armour. A quick investigation of which revealed that she had stashing all of her weapons in it's frame. A wise move considering she'd been carrying no less than three guns, five grenades and two melee weapons with her for some godforsaken reason.

Granted, he had no real right to judge, he did almost the same thing, but most of his companions never failed to explain how carrying as much stuff as he did was impractical at best and life threatening at worst.

Then again, if a warmachine like her is doing it, though, then maybe there really is something to being over armed, although... "If she can carry this much she must have a mean right hook," He noted quietly, edging away from the sleeping woman.

"Left hook actually," the paladin specified, "though she was pretty ambidextrous in the past. I hear the lack of combat's caused her to neglect her right side though. Probably best to attack from there." he advised, before hastily adding, "If it comes down to it, I mean."

Had it been a day earlier, The Vault Dweller would've sighed in exasperation at the paladins hostile attitude, probably thrown a critical look at him as well. Today though, after having learnt what he'd learnt, he held back, not only because it would wake the woman, but also because, at this point, he didn't know if it was really unjustified. For although it may have hurt to admit it, he knew now that The Wanderer was dangerous and that there was truth to Danse's words.

Besides, he thought, he has more than enough reason to be hostile and cautious of her, I don't even know if I have a right to judge him for it anymore, so long as he tries to be a bit less gung ho about it.

These things had to sort themselves out eventually. As for the desertion and theft, that was a more immediate problem.

"If it's a fight you're worried about" he said instead, "our best bet is to get rid of these."

Danse offered no complaints, and, taking that as approval, The Vault Dweller busied himself with shovelling as many guns as he could into the paladins arms.

It's lucky that he's wearing power armour, he found himself thinking as the paladin stubbornly failed to buckle under the weight of the armaments, makes the prospect of carrying the aforementioned combat knife, grenades, actual real life sword, shotgun, sniper, assault and hunting rifles all at once somewhat realistic.

...It'll also make him a good pack mule in the event that things do go south, he thought darkly,

Though let's hope it doesn't come to that.

With the immediate danger out of the way, The Vault Dweller retreated to the back of the room alongside his superior and gave the sleeping ex-scout a once over.

She appeared to be largely unarmoured, using only a faded green long coat for warmth, and seemed defenseless almost to the point of almost making The Vault Dweller guilty for being cautious of her. Worried about starting a fight because of a misstep, he looked to his friend for guidance. Unfortunately, the paladin merely looked back at him and shrugged.

"Your call."

Though The Vault Dweller didn't approve of the edge of spite in the paladin's voice, he did suppose it was what they had agreed upon, so since he couldn't see any real point in starting any needless bickering, he instead took a look at their current options.

He could shake her awake, of course, but that would likely be seen as an attack as well as putting him in left hook range.

Alternatively, he could bypass the whole punching problem by just outright shooting her. If it was somewhere non lethal yet important, then he could probably play it off as caution, but he couldn't accept such a breach of trust. He needed to show her he wasn't an enemy.

Then there was the third option: waiting. Probably the safest, but also the longest, and there was always the chance that, when she did wake up, she'd still see them as an enemy.

Finally he could comfortably yell at her to wake up from the other end of the room, but it would be easy for her to see that as an attack. Of course, if she did see it as an attack they were in a far more secure position.

Making his choice, The Vault Dweller steeled his nerves and called out.

"Miss wanderer, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wake up."


Welp. heres chapter ... something after a while. not really happy with parts of it but yay anyway I guess. I got back into it recently, but I'm still drawing a lot. Holidays now though. Yaaaay.

tfw you do a rewrite and 2000 words grows into 5000.