Author's Note: I ship Danse with Nick Valentine... it's a rare pair, but honestly? They have so much in common guys! The trust that Nick displays here might seem out of character, but I would argue that Malcolm serves as an outside source of confidence. Like, if Danse had used the opportunity to harm him, Malcolm's wrath wouldn't be too far behind.

Chapter Ten: Danse With the Detective

Preston needed a little more convincing than Danse had, but ultimately trusted that Malcolm knew what he was doing, "I'll get him up to speed on the operations here General, I'm guessing that you're going to want me to bring the others up to speed as well?"

"Tomorrow; he's catching up with Haylen at the moment," Malcolm said, "Introduce Lieutenant Danse around, get him familiarized… and don't worry Preston, you're still my second in command."

Preston beamed, "I won't let you down General!" Preston saluted and marched off to continue his rounds of Sanctuary.

Danse was currently enveloped in a relieved hug, courtesy of Haylen. "I'm so glad you're safe." She cried, "I was so worried, that they'd get to you before I managed to get the General to help you."

Danse awkwardly comforted her, "Your warning saved my life, Haylen. I'm here, I'm safe."

Haylen laughed, "Not only that, we've only barely just left the Brotherhood and you already outrank me in the Minutemen!"

Danse blinked, "You joined the Minutemen as well? What is your ranking?"

"Field medic, they don't have as much of a ranking system here, far as I can figure. I think it's just different specialties:

Runners, who are the sort of recon mission/ messagers/scouts/ material gatherers.

Mechanics, upkeep the equipment, turrets, and build and repair stuff like water purification systems.

Field and Settlement Medics. Which are pretty much exactly what they sound like.

Each unit has a member that acts as a sort of Captain, who job is being the primary point of contact for that unit. They're the ones that radio Sanctuary to get the orders for their unit, ask for reinforcements, or to deliver information.

And then the Minutemen have heavy, and light artillery, snipers, close combat fighters… each unit has a mixture of the specialties depending on the location, and of course there's the fact that every Minutemen that sees the General's flare will rush to whatever settlement he's in to aid him."

Haylen considered for a moment, "Then I guess there's Garvey as the… well I suppose his title is now Lieutenant-General, to distinguish him as the General's second in command, so you probably rank just below him."

Malcolm strode up to them, "It's a bit ungainly, I'll grant you that. However, I think we've done alright, considering I was declared General by Garvey literally the day I defrosted from vault 111."

Danse nodded, "With how fast the Minutemen have grown the last two months I imagine it would be a lot to manage and organize."

Malcolm blinked, "Has it only been two months? Feels like a lot longer."

Haylen nodded, "Just a little over two months, I think."

Malcolm consulted his Pip Boy, he fiddled a bit with the dialing knobs, "Huh. Yeah that's right."

Danse straightened up, "So when am I officially on duty General?"

Malcolm chuckled, "At ease, I have Garvey orientating you tomorrow. I'm going to attempt to take it easy over the next two days, but don't hesitate to raise any concerns with either me or Garvey. You guys should feel free to share whatever Brotherhood know-how you feel might be useful."

Danse nodded, "Did you see where Nick went to, I wanted to see if he would like my help repairing his hand?"

Malcolm whistled for Dogmeat, "Where'd Nicky go boy? Find the detective!"

Dogmeat ran over to the Red Rocket Gas Station, "Ah, Sturges' workshop. Makes sense. That's where we keep a lot of the fiddly tools."

Danse smiled and said he hoped to see Field Medic Haylen around later. Haylen laughed, and reassured him that she'd be around. Then Danse headed off towards the gas station.

Nick was indeed attempting repairs on his hand, "Oh hey Lieutenant Danse, settling in okay?"

Danse gave a half shrug, trying to appear casual. Still feeling rather exposed without his power armor. He eyed the set of power armor currently on the rack, "I believe I am 'settling in' adequately… whose armor is this?"

Nick smiled warmly, "Project that Malcolm and Sturges mod in their off time as a hobby, Malcolm doesn't use power armor himself, jokes he's more the agile, light artillery, martial art fighter."

"I've seen him fight, and he's not wrong. Did you know he's got a sword he calls 'The Valentine?'.

Nick chuckled, "He named that sword before he met me, if you can believe it. The sword hilt has a sort of decorative heart motif, and he thought it would be an ironic name for a sword. He told me about it shortly after he became my partner for my detective agency."

Danse blinked, "So he's a detective and a General at the same time?"

Nick nodded, "And the Silver Shroud, on occasion."

"Where on earth does he find the time?"

"You got me, I'm just glad he's got MacCready to watch his back now."

Danse pointed at Nick's right hand, "Need help with that?"

Nick laughed, "Ah, and now we get to why you decided to check up on me." He sat down across a workbench with a toolbox and a container set on it to place small loose pieces into. "I would definitely appreciate the help, pre-war Nick Valentine was right handed, I'm ambidextrous but old habits make it so I've never been able to entirely disassemble my right hand all on my own."

Dance approached and sat across from Nick, "You have help usually?"

Nick watched as Danse carefully removed various different components from his hand, "Sturges, when I'm here. Sometimes Charles over in Goodneighbor...I don't know if anyone is knowledgeable enough in Diamond City to completely disassemble and reassemble it though, so mostly I just do self-maintenance as best as I can."

"Some of these components have started to chafe and shave. You'll need those replaced, and entirely new spacers."

"There's a few boxes of reclaimed Gen 2 parts over in the corner. Other than the sparkling pre-loaded personality and attempts at a few other bells and whistles—like the artificial skin for example, I'm structurally similar to a Gen 2."

"Ever considered patching the gaps in the synthetic skin?" Danse asked warily, "It's probably not safe to have your throat wiring so exposed to the elements."

Nick hummed, "Probably should make sure to clean out whatever grime that has got in there before I do that."

"At least consider a glove for this exposed hand, the carpal-bone simulacrum wouldn't have gotten so jammed up with dirt and other junk if you took some preventative measures."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Nick cycled his optics, the bright yellow light appearing to shutter as he simulated a blink.

Danse glanced up curiously, "Do you need to blink or is that just a reflex?"

Nick gave a half shrug, "Every so often the optics refresh? My perception dims a little as a result, I think I mostly blink because I think a part of me still thinks that it helps. Might also be muscle memory, because I still find myself venting air to simulate sighs even though I don't even need to breathe."

"Do you get tired?"

Nick smiled, "Not like Nick remembers. I don't need to eat or sleep either, closest to sleep I get is a full system diagnostic run. I don't feel temperatures, but I have sensors that warn me if I'm about to overheat."

Danse chuckled ruefully, "It almost sounds like Gen 3's were a bit of a downgrade? Because I know I get tired, and hungry, and cold… and I couldn't just replace my hand if I needed to."

Nick scoffed, "Well you could, with a prosthetic, but I get your meaning. Sure, I can replace parts, but I sometimes wonder how much of me is the same Nick as the one that woke up in a dumpster outside of the Institute over a century ago."

Danse shifted, "I suppose I never thought of it that way, if you slowly replace every part for a new part over time until every piece has been replaced is what you have at the end the same collection of objects as before?"

"Pre-war, we had that thought process named the ship of Theseus."

"What sorts of memories do you have of pre-war Nick's?"

"They mostly come to me in flashes, it's mostly the cop instinct and experience at the forefront, and those have kept me alive."

Danse had managed to completely disassemble the hand and he got up to root for replacement parts in the box of mixed Gen 2 scrap.

After rescuing the necessary components, Danse returned to the table and began to grease the contact points, Danse looked at the various loose pieces and glanced at Nick, "Was it weird, the first time you had to have your hand disassembled?"

Nick smiled, "Very, I almost couldn't bear watching, but I also couldn't not look— y'know?"

"Like watching a vertibird crash, terrible to witness, but you can't tear your eyes away." Danse ventured, "Plus I imagine you probably want to make sure pieces don't get misplaced."

Nick snorted, "You're right, I would rather have a working hand with all the parts placed back where they need to be."

The basic framework for the hand was already back in place, Nick adjusted his optics and closely observed Danse work on a particularly delicate part, "This is going really smoothly, I got to say."

"Thank you, I've had a lot of practice modding power armor."

"Malcolm would definitely let you mod the power armors he's found around the Commonwealth, you'd only need to ask. Heck, you probably don't even need to ask, he's probably expecting that you'd want to do exactly that."

"I…" Danse hesitated, "I don't want to risk upsetting General Germaine."

Nick raised a near invisible brow, "Ask him if that'll make you feel better. Kid'll probably straight give you one of the better ones."

Danse furrowed his brow, "How can you be so sure?"

Nick chuckled, "You have met Malcolm right? Plus, I'd class you as a heavy artillery, and we know you've got plenty of experience with power armor. Malcolm did make you a lieutenant, after all."

"I still would rather ask first."

Nick nodded, "Alright, I respect that," Nick suddenly glanced up, "Oh hey, speak of the devil."

"What?"

Malcolm chuckled, "You guys talking about little 'ol me?" Danse shifted guiltily but Malcolm just smiled, "Relax, Danse you're not in trouble, thought I'd see how the hand repair was coming along?"

Nick smiled, "Sailing along smoothly, doll. Danse has a real knack for this."

Danse blushed, "Just a lot of practice."

Malcolm nodded, "Practice modding power armor?"

Danse shot a wary glance at Nick, "Yes, and studying Gen 1 and 2 synths."

Malcolm wandered over to the white power armor on the rack, and started painting blue stripes and stars in bands on one of the arms, "This is the same design Preston's got as bands on both of his arms," he explained, "Blue, for the Minutemen."

Danse blinked, "You intend to assign that armor to Lieutenant-General Garvey?"

There was a beat of silence and Malcolm and Nick shared a look over Danse's head.

Malcolm laughed, "No, he's a sniper-class. Light artillery. I'm assigning this to you, feel free to mod it however works best for you; exempting the bands because those will help identify you as a lieutenant."

Danse blinked, "Thank you, General Germaine." He said with a tone that betrayed a slight disbelief.

"It's no problem, we'll get you fitted for a regular Minuteman uniform tomorrow, Jun Long's the settlement's tailor so he'll take your measurements when Garvey introduces you around."

Nick laughed, "What'd I tell you? The kid is something else."

Danse shifted his attention back to Nick's hand, to avoid having to find something else to say.

Malcolm finished painting the bands and then excused himself from the Red Rocket Gas Station. "If either of you need me I'll be at the Long's farm teaching Kyle musical scales for an hour. After that you'd probably have to track me with Dogmeat."

They said their farewells and Malcolm wandered away.

Danse gently took up Nick's right hand in both of his, holding carefully at the wrist. "Flex your hand towards yourself."

Nick curled his hand, smiling at the silent shifting of the components. His had hadn't been this quiet since his last full maintenance session.

Danse nodded, "Good, now touch each finger to your thumb one by one, keeping the thumb stationary."

Nick complied easily, as both of them observed the right hand cycle through the exercise. Nick smiled, "Would you look at that, good as new."

Their eyes met across the table, and there was a comfortable silence as they both smiled at the other.

Danse felt the weight of Nick's metal hand in his, still held at the wrist by both of his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

Danse felt captivated by Nick's glowing yellow eyes, he self-consciously relaxed his grip and averted his eyes, only to catch his gaze on the gashes in Nick's synthetic skin.

Nick smiled and ducked his chin, "Do they really bother you that much?"

Danse's eyes snapped back up, "I…" Danse began to extract his hands, only to have Nick shush him, and scoop up both his hands with his own. Nick used his left hand to bring up Danse's right to the larger gap on the side.

The vulnerable line of wires easily being trusted to Danse's hand.

The amount of trust on display absolutely floored Danse. Allowing Danse to completely disassemble one of his hands had been significant enough on its own, but this was literally Nick saying that he was willing to trust Danse with his life.

Danse swallowed nervously, but found himself saying, "I'd want to clean out any accrued grime first, like you'd said."

Nick gave a nod, one that brought Danse's hand right to the vulnerable line of his throat. "Alright. You close the door, I'll fetch the washing supplies."

Nick rose from the table and started collecting items from around the shop.

Danse huffed out a disbelieving breath, but he went to close the workshop's garage door.

Nick had divested himself of all of his clothing, and left them folded carefully in a corner on a chair. He wasn't technically naked as he hadn't 'the proper equipment'.

Danse saw a bevy of small gashes and gaps in synthetic skin. He ran water and soap through the gashes, watching as dirt tinged water flowed out of gashes in Nick's back and collected in the washbasin Nick was laying in.

It felt like they were teetering on the cusp of some sort of precipice, not sure yet if they were going to be able to keep their footing on the cliff's edge or if both would plummet into the unknown.

Danse rinsed clean water through Nick to wash out the soap, let Nick run his cooling fans long enough to dry out, and took up some modded stim packs to use to bond the white synthetic skin to the patches he'd crafted.

The synthetic skin began to knit before their very eyes, and Nick vented a involuntary simulation of a hitched breath. His optics adjusting focus as his eyes fluttered closed.

Nick practically moaned, "Danse."

Suddenly, there was no remaining on the cliff's edge.

And two synths, made by the Institute and commiserate in their shared questions of identity, clutched each in a passion-fueled kiss.

Danse could feel the difference to how the synthetic skin felt beneath his lips, and how the taste of cigarette smoke was tinged slightly with the tang of metal.

Nick vented a breath of air into Danse's open mouth, delaying any need to pull away for oxygen.

Both their hands on the back of the other's head, arms crooked to keep the other close.

The floodgates had opened, the two synths in perfect concert, plummeting together towards a future uncertain in every matter except for the fact that now they would face the uncertainties of life together, starting this very moment.

-chapter end-

Authors Note: Danse's mechanical jargon is 100% fabricated by me. I hope it sounded convincing.