TITLE: The Price of Brotherhood
CHAPTER: 10, What is Past is Prologue
AN: A big Commonwealth thank you to Veelsme for reminding me that Danse never repents his actions as a BOS soldier or has his moment of redemption. I aim to fix that.
"There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present, and invoke the security of a comfortable past which, in fact, never existed." —Robert Kennedy
"Without freedom of thought, there can be no such thing as wisdom - and no such thing as public liberty without freedom of speech." —Benjamin Franklin
He was no ladies man, but the sassy redhead sitting next to him had his full attention. Typically, unless he was drunk, and if he could think of the right words at all, getting them out of his head was always difficult. Tonight, wanna fuck? or How many caps for a go? seemed completely inadequate. And would probably earn him a shiv between the ribs. Her name was Cait and obviously, she was beautiful, but that didn't seem to be the most important thing about her. As he got to know her on the journey over here, he also realized underneath all that balls and bluster was a complicated mix of vulnerability and sass. He wanted to ask her where she came from and the reason for her defensiveness and the sadness in her eyes. Turned out talking to her had been easy because they hadn't stopped arguing since they teamed up in Sanctuary.
"Mac, I already told you I'm not going in there. Arsen called it a pit and I've been in enough of those to know I don't want to go back."
MacCready wasn't ready to back down. If for nothing else than to watch her green eyes flash at him.
"Come on, Cait. Just for a second. Who knows what might be down there."
He didn't like being called "Mac." Never had. But that leather corset made him lightheaded. Who was this spitfire and where had Arsen been hiding her? When she suddenly reached across the space between them and poked a finger into his chest, MacCready stopped breathing. Oh, hell yes.
"It'll be your bleeding gut if you don't let it alone."
Red hair, green eyes, a wicked looking shotgun and that leather thing. Hadn't he fantasized about this exact woman? Short of provoking her into killing him, how many other ways could he get her riled up?
"Oh, I see how it is," she snapped. "You don't think I've seen that look before?"
Tell me. Describe it to me. I've got all night. Time to change tactics, MacCready.
He worked up a smile and stuck out his hand. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Robert Joseph MacCready."
"Ach! And such a fine grand name, too. Listen here, Mac. I know who ya are and what ya are. No need to get above your raisin' on my account. I bloody well seen ya drinking at Tommy Lonegan's enough times. Come to think of it, I remember you never spent your caps on more than drink. Made the other girls wonder about 'cha. All ya had to do was ask, love. If it's not the ladies that suit ya, then Tommy was always up for bit 'o man to man. If you take my meaning."
MacCready let his head drop in his hands. The Combat Zone… Tommy Lonegan's…The girl in the fighting cage. The feisty red-haired fighter he spent so many nights admiring from the free seats at the back of the room. And now, of course, he knew exactly where the sass and courage came from. Watching her fight like she made every opponent a target of someone or something only she knew. He'd of had to been deaf not to hear the stories the other guys told about her. Bragging how many times they'd had a go at her. How, if you had the caps, 'ol Tommy might get real generous with her time. One of them told how Tommy'd given a group of them a room, forced her inside and locked the door. She'd fought them like a crazed wolf until one of them finally pinned her down. Life was hard. Just harder for some folks than others. More often than not, it came down to a choice of saving a child, starving or dying alone. Cait had made her choices and lived to tell about it. Arsen had given her a chance to fight back at the world that held her down for so long.
"Cait? I like girls just fine. Especially redheads with a temper to match." That came out pretty easy, and it got her attention. "Let me guess. One day, Arsen found you, rescued you and by all definitions saved your life?"
Cait nodded her head across the campfire, where Arsen and Danse sat with their heads together talking quietly.
"There's the truth of it."
"He did the same for me. With everything else on his shoulders, he took the time to help me enter Med Tech and retrieve a cure for my son."
"You have a son?" Cait's face brightened, and she moved closer to MacCready.
And that did nothing to help his composure because closer meant seeing the spiky texture of her hair and wanting...needing to touch it. See if her skin was as warm as her hair. MacCready breathed her in. She smelled like the Commonwealth. Like the ocean, and burned sunlight and sweat. Not the sweat of the whores who smelled like every john they'd been with, but healthy and genuine. She had not given in to the harsh life the Commonwealth handed her.
"His name is Duncan. I-I had a wife, too. She was killed by feral ghouls."
MacCready almost jumped when one of her calloused hands clasped his.
"Sorry to hear it. But things are better now, I think. It's time to let the sad stories of our pasts become memories."
Turning his hand so that their fingers clasped together. "You're right, Cait. Maybe I'll go visit, Duncan. Soon."
"I think that's a good idea. If I had a boy. I wouldn't let him go. If you go…If you want me to…I could with, you? You'll be needing someone to watch your back."
MacCready didn't answer, instead, he removed his leather coat and set it over Cait's shoulders. Across the campfire Arsen and Danse watched MacCready kiss Cait's hand.
"They look good together."
"I'm not used to seeing all of us in one place. I'd have noticed how good they might be for one another. If they don't kill each other first." Arsen felt a hand on his shoulder and leaned into it. Tired and disoriented, took the gesture as an invitation and scooted over to be closer to Danse.
Danse tipped his head down, "I know your need. It matches mine for you. Tonight I need time to think and sleep if I can."
No.
Cold fear pulled Arsen to his feet. He hadn't meant to have this conversation, but there was no way out now.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Danse rose slowly to his feet. "The reason?"
"I don't want to go back down there, but I will not allow you to go alone," Arsen's tone raised Danse's eyebrows.
Instead of trying to explain himself, Arsen reached into his pocket and pulled out a holotape. In real danger of breaking down, Arsen swallowed the greasy fear rising in his throat and tried to hide his shaking hands by entering the bunker. A moment later, Danse followed him. The closing of the reinforced concrete door went off like a rifle shot. Arsen jumped.
Large hands pried his fingers opened and took the tape from him. "Did you watch this?"
"If I'd gotten here too late and found you… If I lost you, too." The empty hand closed and swung. Danse caught the fist just before the force of Arsen's anger impacted his jaw.
What could he say in his defense? He'd almost done it. Planned it. Recorded the message. Removed the uniform he lost the honor to wear and pointed a laser pistol at his head. At the moment of raising his hand, guilt washed over him and drove him to his knees. The pistol clattered forgotten to the floor.
He couldn't stop the memories from rushing in and drowning him in cold hard guilt. The voices of the dying synths, the screams of the Gen 3s, as they died at his feet. They taunted him from their forgotten graves in broken down office buildings and homes. They tore at his heart. All that he'd been taught. Trained. Indoctrinated. Brainwashed. The horrible things he'd said about synths. They were all about him. He was the very thing he'd been taught to hate and fear. The one thing beside Ghouls he found the most satisfaction in destroying.
"Everything. Arsen. You should have left me here. Everything I am is a lie. What I thought I was. Who I thought I was. I am nothing."
"Danse…no, please. No." But Paladin Danse wasn't a child to be held and consoled. Unsure of how to comfort him or of what he could possibly say to ease his pain. Arsen stayed close and gradually as Danse loosened his grip on his hand, Arsen leaned against him and let Danse take whatever he needed.
When the tremors stopped, Arsen pressed his lips against Danse's cheek, "I can't pretend to know what you're going through or how much you feel you've lost. But, every one of those people out there came here to defend you. Not just me, but you. Danse, every single one of them made the decision to start over. To make something different of their lives. And they have. We have."
Danse lifted his head. A bit of the old warmth glowing in the dearly loved brown eyes, "So, it's settled then?"
Laughter bubbled up and Arsen's smile light up the room like Christmas morning. "Yeah, you're damn right it's settled."