11. The Sea of Ghosts

Myra seeks closure before she and Danse enter the Glowing Sea.

Spring had officially come to the Commonwealth, bringing life to the wasteland. In Sanctuary, grass had begun to regrow, muted and yellow, but alive all the same. The air was filled with the fragrance of hubflowers and other wild blossoms drifting in from the nearby forest, the laughter of Renata and the other children echoing between the reclaimed buildings like birdsong. The farmers down by the river had planted fresh crops in the softened ground, and green shoots had begun to peep through the soil. Soon, fresh tatos, melons, and more would join the meal rotation, supplementing winter's carrots, gourds, and grain.

Paladin Danse smiled as the warm sun fell on his face, enjoying the sensation. He stood outside Myra's house, his still-sore body cramped in an old suit of power armor Sturges had refitted for him. Apparently, Myra had fought a deathclaw in the thing, which explained all the dents. Danse would have paid good caps to see that fight.

Ever since Myra and MacCready had returned from the Prydwen, Danse could sense that something had changed in both of them. He didn't ask what had happened. The bandages and solemn looks told him more than enough. Whatever had transpired on Myra's rescue mission, it had affected both her and the mercenary in a myriad of ways.

While MacCready had mostly retreated to the Last Minuteman-where he'd taken up semi-permanent residence-Myra spent more and more time alone at the Red Rocket station, only coming home to check on her companions every few days. Danse had gone out to the station to visit her only once. As he'd approached, cold and shivering in the early spring rain, he could hear her weeping bitterly behind the closed door of her small bedroom. The art studio was full of half-realized pieces, tormented faces crying out from behind panes of frosted glass. The Paladin had considered knocking, but something made him hesitate. Myra had chosen to be alone. It wouldn't be right to disturb her, even if her seclusion was unusual.

More than a week had passed like this, until one day, Myra had returned to Sanctuary without ceremony. She'd simply walked into her house, packed up all of her old mementos, and locked them away in the nursery. And that had been the end of it, until today.

"Hey," called a soft voice from behind Danse, and he turned to see Myra herself. He held his breath as he looked at her, a vision in elegant black. He couldn't recall ever seeing her in a dress before. She'd even taken the time to brush her hair and apply a little bit of improvised makeup. Danse's mind conjured an image of her wedding pictures, of the beautiful, carefree housewife she'd been. For once, she almost looked the part again.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I'm going to be," she sighed. "I'll admit, I'm pretty...well, I'm not sure exactly. I'm not nervous, I don't think."

"It's natural to have...conflicting emotions at times like this," Danse offered, holding a hand out which she grasped readily. "But I promise, I won't leave your side. We can take as long as you need."

Myra shook her head. "I've waited long enough," she replied, her voice cracking. "I see that now. What Mac's going through...I realized the other day that I could be the same way, if I let myself."

Danse frowned as he thought about the mercenary. The young man had barely left his room at Marcy's bar since he and Myra had returned, and not just because of his injuries. MacCready was quieter than he'd been, less full of boundless sarcasm. In fact, there was a deep sadness behind his eyes that hadn't been as present before. He'd always been a drinker, but now it was rare to see him without a glass of something potent in his hand. It was worrying, but not unexpected. Whatever MacCready had been through, it was clearly horrible.

"What do you mean?" Danse asked, concerned.

Myra shook her head. "Just...seeing him like this makes me worry that holding on too tightly to Nate, to who I was…" she cleared her throat, squeezing Danse's armored hand tightly. "I guess I'm starting to see how that could be a weakness. And I can't afford to have weaknesses. Not until I get Shaun back."

The Paladin nodded. He didn't quite understand what she was saying, but what he did get made sense. "Grief can sometimes blind people," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean that you have to forget."

Myra snorted. "I don't think I could forget him if I wanted to, Danse. Nate was…" She sighed sadly. "Well, he was Nate. I think I'll always love him in some way. And that's not a bad thing. But survivor's guilt...that's the real enemy, isn't it?"

Danse thought about his own guilt, the names and faces he carried with him. Dawes. Worwick. Brach. Keane...Cutler."Affirmative," Danse agreed. "In my experience, nothing is quite as painful."

"That's what I want to put behind me," Myra continued. "Not Nate. But the way he died...I know there wasn't anything I could do. Still, I can't help but think that I should have taken Shaun into the cryo chamber with me, instead of leaving him with Nate. If I had, Kellogg would have killed me instead."

"Perhaps he would have," Danse replied. "But he didn't. You're still alive. And you haven't given up."

"Yeah," she agreed. She stared off towards the hilltop for a long moment, the gentle breeze playing through her silvery hair like the fingers of a lover as she bit her lower lip, trembling slightly. Her emerald eyes were distant, misty, as she contemplated the abandoned vault that sat above them, cold and empty. Finally, she turned to Danse, a sad smile on her face. "Shall we go? I don't want to waste the good weather."

Danse nodded, and they set out for the bridge that connected Sanctuary to the forest and the craggy hills beyond. It was an easy walk, but they took it slow all the same. After all, Danse was still getting used to being in power armor again, and while Myra's injuries had mostly healed, she still fatigued easily.

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me," Myra said softly as they crossed the narrow creek. "I wasn't sure you would."

Danse gazed down at her, his eyes resting on the gauze bandage that still covered a good portion of her left cheek. His heart twinged as he thought about the wound beneath, the deep new scar that would never fully heal. He knew it wasn't his fault that he wasn't there to fight beside her, but still, he hated seeing her injured. Every time it happened, he felt like he'd failed her somehow. He knew he couldn't protect the young woman under his charge from every danger the Commonwealth had to offer. Life was brutal in the wasteland, after all. But every time Myra gained a new scar, it seemed to Danse that those idyllic summer days before the War grew just that much more distant. Even as he swelled with pride at the warrior she was becoming, his heart ached for the peaceful suburban life she'd left behind. This world was changing her irrevocably, and there was nothing he could do but help her endure the metamorphosis.

"You don't need to thank me, soldier," he replied finally. "I need the exercise anyway if I'm going to readjust to wearing power armor."

"How's the T-45 treating you, by the way?" Myra asked. "I know it's not as nice as your old suit, but Sturges said he'd be done painting up your new one in a few days."

"It's not ideal," Danse muttered, "but all the same, thank you for letting me borrow it. I feel...more like myself, I suppose."

She nodded, smiling up at him. "You look more like yourself, too," she replied. "It's good to see. I've been worried about you."

Danse considered telling Myra how worried he was about her as well, but decided against it. Today, she didn't need a lecture. She needed support. And that, he would happily provide. "That's hardly necessary, Larimer," Danse said. "I have no intention of dying before we rescue your son. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it."

Myra chuckled, wincing as the laughter stretched her healing cheek. "If it were anyone else, I'd call bullshit on that. But you really are that stubborn."

"I'll have you know, stubbornness is one of the most important qualities a Brotherhood soldier can possess," Danse retorted. "That's why I knew you'd make a fantastic part of our team. I've never met anyone as obstinate as you are once you've set your mind to something. Not even Elder Maxson can best you there."

The Knight smacked his armored arm playfully. "Don't let him hear you say that, Danse. You know how sensitive he is."

"Affirmative," the Paladin replied with a slight smile. "But even so, I'll bet he'd agree with my assessment."

Myra's grin faded as they approached a break in the trees. The woods parted to reveal a small glen, the gentle perfume of hubflowers wafting on the breeze. There, a small cemetery had been built, headstones fashioned from salvaged steel and concrete from Sanctuary marking the graves of those poor souls who had never emerged alive from Vault 111, as well as the final resting place for those few who had died since the settlement had been founded.

"Sturges told me that the settlers cleared out the vault a few months ago," Myra said softly. "They'd wanted me to be here, but I guess the old cryo systems finally broke down completely. It was find a place to bury the dead, or let the whole vault reek of rotten flesh. I'm glad they made the right call." She stopped before a particular stone, gesturing Danse over. "Here he is," she whispered.

It was a simple marker, just a rectangle of concrete with the name CPT Nathaniel S. Larimer etched into it. Myra knelt in the dirt and placed her hand on the top of the headstone, bowing her head in prayer as Danse looked on in silence.

The Paladin wasn't sure how long she remained like that, bent over her husband's grave, but he had no intention of rushing her. Instead, he took the opportunity to think of those he'd lost along the way, all the bodies left unburied. Laying the dead to rest wasn't usually the Brotherhood way, after all. In combat, they rarely had much of a chance to recover remains. It was policy to grab the holotags off of fallen soldiers, and those were delivered to the members of the Order of the Quill, who would record the names of the honored dead.

Danse hadn't been to a real funeral since Sarah, the last Lyons, was laid to rest at Arthur's insistence. He still remembered the way Maxson had stood, his young face a stony mask as Sarah's body was buried in the courtyard of the Citadel she'd loved so much. Even at the tender age of thirteen, the boy who would be Elder did not weep, at least not in public. Only the subtle trembling of his lower lip had betrayed the immense grief within.

Myra was much the same. She did not cry over Nate's grave as she prayed. Her tears had been shed before, in secret. Instead, she greeted her late husband with quiet dignity. In spite of the occasion, Danse was immensely proud of her. Every day, Myra grew stronger. It was incredible to witness.

Finally, Myra looked up, smiling sadly at the Paladin. "Danse," she said softly, "I'd like you to meet Nate. Nate, this is Senior Paladin Danse. He's been helping me find our son. I...I wanted you to know that I'm still looking for him. That I haven't given up. That I'm not alone."

Danse saluted the grave, wincing slightly as he overestimated the force it took to move his arm in Myra's old armor, hitting his chest with a resounding clang.

Myra snorted softly, but continued speaking. "I wish it was you, here, Nate. Not me. I'm not the soldier you were. If it were up to you, I'm sure the Institute would already be destroyed. But I'm doing my best, and I have a lot of good people helping me. You can rest easy, now. I promise."

She pressed her lips to the top of the headstone before withdrawing, leaving a large gold ring where her hand had been.

"Goodbye, handsome," she whispered. "I love you. I'll always love you." With that, she walked away, finding a seat on an old bench that the settlers had dragged under a large tree nearby.

Danse watched her leave before turning back to her husband's grave. He wasn't quite sure what to say. After all, he'd never met the man. He knew Nate only from pictures and the stories Myra had told him. But she had loved him, had promised her life to him. It was only right that the Paladin acknowledged that. "It's an honor, sir," he said finally. "I'll do my utmost to keep her safe. You have my word."

With that, he turned and followed Myra, armor clanking in the stillness of the glen as he walked quickly to her side. She smiled as he fell in beside her, taking his armored hand in hers. "Thank you, Danse," she murmured. "I...I'm glad it was you with me today."

He blushed slightly as her words sunk in. What did she mean by that? "You...I...I'm always here for you, Larimer," he managed finally, squeezing her hand gently. He closed his eyes as the cool spring breeze caressed his face, letting the stillness of the afternoon flood over him. There was a peace to the world in that instant that he had rarely experienced, as though all the weight that had been holding him back was lifted, just for a moment. Was this what things had been like before the War? He smiled faintly before releasing Myra's hand. "Let me know when you're ready to head back to town," he continued. "We can stay as long as you'd like."

Myra shook her head. "I could stay here for weeks, I think, and I still wouldn't be ready. The only thing I can do now is move forward." She stood slowly, groaning in pain as she gripped her stomach.

Danse frowned. "Is your knife wound still bothering you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But it won't hurt forever." With that, she turned and walked back towards Sanctuary. Danse fell in beside her, keeping an eye out for danger as they made their way back to the bustling settlement.

Fortunately, the rest of the day passed without incident. Neither Myra nor Danse made any attempt to break the quiet stillness of the afternoon, and it seemed as if the rest of the world was content to leave them be for once. Even the normal dinner rush at the Last Minuteman was fairly quiet. All the same, Danse was grateful when Marcy ushered the pair to a private room in the back.

"What's this for?" Myra asked the fearsome barkeep cautiously.

Marcy sighed. "Look. I know we don't get along. But still, I know what you did today, General. After losing Kyle...I just thought you might want some privacy, okay? I can't have you crying in front of the other customers. It'd be bad for business."

Myra nodded. "I understand. Thanks, Marcy."

"Just don't think we're friends or anything now," the other woman snarked, retreating from the room.

Myra smiled. "I think she's starting to like me, Danse."

"I wouldn't be so certain of that," the Paladin replied, eyeing the strangely molded meat slathered in thin, gray gravy that sat in front of him. "She may be trying to poison us both."

"Well, no wonder a lot of people are eating at home tonight," Myra joked. "I forgot it was ratloaf night. At least she left us plenty of wine to wash it down. Can I pour you a glass?"

Danse shook his head. "You know I only rarely indulge in alcohol, Larimer. If we're attacked, I can't afford to have dulled senses."

Myra sighed. "Come on, Danse. Just one glass."

He nodded. "Very well. But only a small one." After Myra poured the heady, blood-red wine into their cups, Danse raised his. "To Nate Larimer, and all our honored dead," he said softly.

Myra smiled. "To Nate," she echoed quietly, her eyes misty. She took a small sip of the wine, grimacing slightly. "Well, it's better than the last bottle Marcy gave me, but not by much. We really need to start a winery, and soon."

Danse frowned. "Aren't grapes effectively extinct?"

"Yeah, but I'll bet we can use other fruits. I'll bet mutfruit is fantastic fermented. The biggest issue is going to be yeast. Who knows what strains survived the war?" Myra thought for a moment. "There's got to still be wild yeast, or people wouldn't be able to make moonshine. All we'd need to do is set up some open-air vats and see what happens. I'll talk to Sturges about it in the morning. Just think! The Minutemen could make our own alcohol!"

"I'm not convinced that's such a good idea," Danse cautioned. "It may be difficult to maintain order if alcohol becomes too readily available in this settlement. Your Minutemen are understaffed as it is."

"True," Myra conceded, "but I'm sure we could work something out. Besides, if it works, think of the income! It'd be a great investment."

Danse sighed, taking a sip of his wine. He coughed slightly as the harsh, astringent taste hit his tongue. "This wine is truly atrocious," he grumbled.

Myra laughed. "Exactly my point. There's no way we'd make worse stuff than this."

The Paladin had to admit that she had a point. He took a small bite of his dinner, frowning as the gamy meat slid down his throat, leaving a greasy trail behind. It was almost enough to make him miss eating in the Prydwen's mess.

Myra's emerald eyes sparkled in amusement as she watched him struggle. "Danse...your face. I've never seen you grimace quite like that before."

"I'm pleased that my discomfort amuses you, Knight," Danse muttered, draining his wine. "This may be one of the most revolting things I've ever eaten."

Myra sampled a bit of her own meal, groaning in disgust. "Did she even season this at all? I know salt isn't the easiest thing to come by this far inland, but I know we have a spice merchant in town."

"Not any more," Danse replied. "He packed up and left soon after you did. Perhaps Ms. Long's supply has run out."

Myra frowned. "That's the third merchant we've lost. I wonder where they're going. As far as I've heard, none of our other settlements have been seeing a boom in commerce. I'll have to ask the Foxes if they've heard anything."

"I believe your man Cato is in town," Danse said. "Ignatius told me that he and Renata are continuing on to the Castle tomorrow. Apparently Lieutenant Davis has been getting impatient."

"I can't really blame her," Myra said softly. "I know what it's like, being separated from your child for so long. I'll make sure to give them some extra supplies for the journey."

Danse nodded. "If the Castle wasn't so far out of our way, I'd suggest that we join them. But it will be far more efficient for us to just head south until we reach the Glowing Sea. Have you decided what you're going to do for radiation protection?"

Myra sighed. "I know you're going to suggest power armor, Danse. But I'm just not comfortable in it."

The Paladin frowned. "I understand your hesitation, Larimer. And I don't want to order you to do something you're not comfortable with. But the Glowing Sea is beyond dangerous. There's a reason no one goes there, and it's not just because of the high radiation levels. I've heard reports of all manner of strange things. I just…" he sighed. "I just want to ensure your safety. It doesn't matter if we find this Dr. Virgil or not if you're not alive to question him."

Myra grimaced. "You have a point. I guess the best way to deal with my fear is to face it, right? But I'm bringing us each a hazmat suit, just in case."

Danse smiled. "Outstanding. I was going to suggest that we bring a backup option as well. Preparation is our greatest ally, especially when we're about to venture into the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth. Who knows what all that radiation will do to our power armor?"

Myra chuckled as she sipped her wine. "How mad do you think Sturges is going to be when I tell him he needs to adjust the frame on the T-45 again?"

"I will undoubtedly be making preparations elsewhere when you ask him," Danse replied.

"I didn't take you for a coward, Danse," she teased.

"I'm hardly a coward, Knight. I'm simply being pragmatic. There's a lot we have to accomplish over the next few days, and if we divide up the labor, we can expedite the process. I know you're as eager to get out there as I am. I've been stuck in Sanctuary for too long."

"Well, that's what you get for nearly dying," Myra said softly. Her smile faded, and she poked at the food in front of her. "Danse?" she asked.

"What is it, Larimer?" he replied.

"Can you just…" she sighed, not making eye contact. "I appreciate all that you've done for me," Myra continued, "but I want you to promise me something."

Danse stared at her, confused. "If it's in my power to agree to, Larimer, I'll consider it. What do you want?"

"Just, can you promise that you won't risk your life for me like you did at the Castle again?" Myra asked, looking up with wide, worried eyes. "I don't know if I could handle it if you died because of me, Danse. If it comes down to it, I want you to save yourself."

The Paladin shook his head, frowning. "I can't agree to that. As your commanding officer, It is my duty to keep you safe. I would gladly spill my blood if it meant that you would survive."

"And I would do the same for you!" Myra exclaimed. "I won't let you play the martyr, Danse. You're no good to me dead."

His eyes widened at her emphatic words. "Larimer, I…"

"Promise me, Danse," she continued. "Promise that you'll survive. I won't take you with me unless you do. I can't…" Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't lose you."

Danse froze. "I...I had no idea that our friendship meant so much to you," he murmured awkwardly.

"Yeah. It actually does." Myra sighed. "Look, I know I've taken a lot of stupid risks lately. But I realize now that I was only acting that way because I couldn't let go of the idea that I wasn't meant to survive. That Nate should have lived, instead. But I have reasons to be here now, and not just to save Shaun. I have Deacon, Mac, Preston...I have you. I want to…" she thought for a moment. "I want to enjoy the life I'm beginning to build here, I guess. And it wouldn't be nearly as great without you in it."

Danse blushed, looking away from her. "I...I don't know what to say. No one's ever told me anything like that before."

"Maybe they should have," Myra continued. "I know you just want to keep me safe. But the best thing you can do for me, for all the people who care about you, is to worry about yourself a little more and me a little less."

"I can't promise it will be easy, but I suppose I can try," the Paladin muttered. "However, you need to make me a promise as well, soldier."

"Of course," she replied.

"It will be substantially easier for me to keep my promise to you if you agree to take fewer risks," Danse continued. "You have to stop behaving so erratically. Listen to me when I'm trying to teach you important lessons. And most importantly, do try to behave like a Brotherhood soldier more often."

Myra chuckled. "Maxson scolded you too, huh?"

Danse nodded. "Apparently, your questionable behavior has been raising quite a few eyebrows. You have to be more careful, Larimer. You have no idea what consequences your actions could have not just for you, but for me, and even for Elder Maxson."

"I'll do my best," she murmured, "but only because I don't want to make you look bad. I might not love all the regulations and shit, but I know how important they are to you."

Danse sighed heavily. "Larimer, if it was just because of my personal preferences, I would not even be asking this of you."

"I know," Myra replied. "I'll try harder, I promise."

"That's all I ask," he said. "Now, I don't know about you, Larimer, but if I'm going to be able to finish this poor excuse for a meal, I may need more wine to wash it down."

Myra laughed. "Agreed. Here, let me pour you another."

The next few days were a flurry of activity as Myra and Danse prepared for their mission. Hours blurred together from frantic days to restless nights, until finally, the morning of their departure arrived.

Myra grimaced as she eyed herself in the bathroom mirror one last time, her fingers ghosting over the jagged scar that ran the length of her cheek. "Damn it," she hissed. "I really hoped it wouldn't look so bad." She turned to Danse. "It's awful, isn't it?"

Danse wasn't sure what to say. It pained him to see her lovely freckled skin marred by such a large disfigurement, but it wasn't as if she were less beautiful now. If anything, what the scar represented made her more lovely than ever. It was a mark that proved she wasn't just talk. She was someone who loved fiercely, who would do anything to protect the people she was close to, even if it meant putting herself in harm's way. It was a scar worthy of the kind of woman she was. But he had a feeling she wouldn't see it that way.

"It's not that bad," he said finally. "At least the knife missed your eye. Better to be scarred than dead."

Myra sighed. "That's a good point. I mean, it doesn't really matter anyway, I guess. It's not like I have anyone to look nice for any more." She stared at their reflection quietly for a moment, her emerald eyes distant as though she was watching a reflection of another time. "You know," she said finally, "the last time I stood here like this...It was the day the bombs fell. Nate and I were going through our normal routine, getting ready for the day. We were bantering, teasing each other like we always did." Her eyes met his in the mirror. "It's strange, you know. The things you think are so small, so insignificant...but knowing I'll never have those mornings with him again, I think it's stuff like that I really miss the most."

Danse held her gaze, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it was all right that she still missed her husband. But at the same time, though he'd known his share of loss, losing a lover like that was one thing he'd never experienced. How could he help her through something he didn't know or fully understand? Finally, he placed an armored hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You're doing admirably well," he murmured. "I'm certain Nate would be proud of you."

Myra turned to face him, pulling the Paladin into a tight hug. "I meant what I said at the cemetery, Danse," she replied, her voice muffled by his power armor. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Of course you could," he said as her arms tightened around his sides. He glanced up at the mirror, blushing slightly as he took in the sight of her wrapped around his armor. Gently, he rested a hand on her back, just holding it there until she was ready to release him. It was strange, he realized, how used to all of this physical affection he'd become. When Myra had first held him like this by Swan's Pond, he'd been incredibly unnerved. Everything in him had rejected her embrace, decorum not allowing for him to do anything else. Now, could he really say that he still felt the same?

Things had changed. What had once seemed like such an intrusion was now as natural as breathing. The Paladin no longer felt alarm when Myra touched him, no longer struggled to put up walls between them. This was just how things were between them now, and even if he wanted to, Danse couldn't see a way back from what their relationship had become. It wasn't at all the professional working relationship that he'd wanted or expected...but it was somehow exactly what they both needed, and that was enough.

When they made it back to the Prydwen, Danse decided, he'd give serious thought to filling out the paperwork and having Myra transferred. He'd miss being in the field with her, but perhaps it would be worth it, getting the chance to really explore the possibilities of the fragile thing that had been growing between them, whatever form it took. On the other hand, he thought with a frown, would Myra forgive him for an action that could be seen as pushing her away? Could he really abandon their mission when they were so close to finding Shaun, even if it was for a good reason?

Myra released her hold on him, smiling softly as she looked up at him. "Thanks, Danse," she murmured. "There's no one I'd rather charge into a sea of radioactive horror with than you."

"Thank you, I suppose," he replied. "I hope this Doctor Virgil has the answers you're looking for, Larimer. I truly do."

She nodded. "Either way, it's high time we found out. Is everything packed?"

The Paladin held up her pack, offering it to her. "I made certain that we each have extra RadAway in our packs, just in case," he replied, "as well as enough ammo and provisions to last a couple weeks, if we're careful."

Myra frowned. "I really hope we aren't in there for a couple weeks," she muttered, taking her bag.

"Agreed," Danse said. "However, we have no idea what we'll be facing inside the Glowing Sea. Our compasses might not work there, or perhaps the terrain will be largely impassable. It is far better that we go in prepared for a longer stay."

"That's true," Myra replied. "Thanks for thinking of that."

Danse smiled slightly as he secured his own pack. "I've already radioed for our vertibird. Lancer-Captain Kai will be meeting us in Spatha near that old ranger cabin on the other side of the river."

"I guess we shouldn't keep her waiting, then," Myra sighed.

They left the house, heading towards the Sanctuary gates. As they neared the Last Minuteman, MacCready slid up to them, his smirking face still discolored with yellowed bruises.

"Aww, you two are leaving already?" the mercenary slurred. "We were just planning on throwing you guys a goodbye party! I mean, we probably won't see you again for like, months, right, General?"

Myra laughed, smacking the brim of his cap down over his eyes. "And miss out on watching you drink yourself to death, MacCready? Hah! I wouldn't dream of it! I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise!"

The mercenary muttered something under his breath before pushing his cap back into place. His eyes met Danse's, and the Paladin frowned as he saw something he couldn't identify lurking behind the man's smile. It wasn't quite hostility, but something about it felt like a warning. "Danse, you take care of her, okay?" MacCready said. "Myra trusts you. Don't let her down."

The Paladin nodded. "Affirmative, civilian. I promise, she'll be as safe as possible as long as I'm by her side."

"Guess that'll have to do." MacCready stumbled slightly, pulling Myra into a tight embrace. "Myra, thank you. I know you wanted to help, but your face...you still got hurt because of me. Again. I'm gonna do everything I can to make it up to you."

She hugged him back, grimacing slightly. "Mac, if you really mean that, maybe start by easing up on the booze, okay? You smell like the floor of a distillery, and Cade said you need to take care of yourself if you want your arm to heal."

He pulled back with a sigh. "Deacon's right, My. You're no fun."

Myra chuckled, "Oh, so it's My now, huh? What happened to Boss? I kind of liked that one."

"Start paying me again, and I'll call you whatever the hell you want," he replied, grinning.

"Tempting," Myra replied, "but unless you've got a spare hazmat suit, I'm gonna have to take a rain check. Danse and I are going to the Glowing Sea, remember? And besides, I heard you don't like travelling with Brotherhood soldiers."

MacCready frowned. "I don't. But...I donno. When you get back, think about it, okay? I'm not sure how much help I'll be, not with…" he held his damaged arm up, frowning at his hand as it trembled violently. "But I think I need a distraction."

"Well, in that case, Mac," Myra replied, "you're on deck for the next mission, okay? Whatever it is, you can come."

Danse sighed heavily. "Larimer, are you certain? Given his condition..."

"I've never been more certain, Danse," she replied, pulling herself up on her tiptoes. "Besides," she whispered, "look at him. He needs this. You know he does."

The Paladin nodded. "Very well, but he'll have to follow my orders. I won't risk letting him get in the way."

"Mac, is that fair?"

The mercenary grimaced. "Fine. But remember, Danse, I don't work for you. I work for My. If it's your life or hers, I'll save her. Are we clear?"

Danse nodded. "I completely understand. I would do the same."

Myra rolled her eyes. "Can you two idiots just agree not to get yourselves in any more life-or-death situations? I'd rather we all live through what's coming, okay?"

With that, she turned on her heel and headed for the gate, where Sturges waited in her power armor. Stubborn as she was, Myra refused to wear the suit until the last possible moment, so the poor mechanic had agreed to transport the heavy armor to the rendezvous point himself. It never ceased to amaze Danse what people were willing to go through on Myra's behalf, but he supposed he wasn't much better. The Paladin couldn't think of a single thing he wasn't willing to do for her.

"Goodbye, Sanctuary," Myra said softly as the three of them left the settlement behind. "You were a good home, for what it was worth."

Sturges stopped in his tracks. "You are coming back, aren't you, General?" he asked, muffled by the suit's helmet.

"Yeah," Myra replied. "But not to stay. Whether I like it or not, Sanctuary's not my home any more. It's just where my ghosts live. And I need to try living again."

The mechanic sighed. "Well, I can hardly blame you for that. Lord knows, with what you've been through, it's amazing you've stayed as long as you have, really. But if you ever change your mind, you'll always have a place in Sanctuary, no questions asked. We'll keep your house for you, just like you left it."

"You're too good to me, Sturges," Myra said with a warm smile. "But please, if anyone needs a place to stay, let them live in my...in that house. Or tear it down and build a new one. I don't need a creepy shrine to me in the center of town."

"General," the mechanic replied, his voice cracking, "I can't do that! Don't you realize what you mean to us? To all the people you've given a safe place to live? Some people even pray to you, you know."

Myra grimaced. "Brian, please tell me you're joking."

"Like I would joke about that," he replied. "They call you the Woman Out Of Time, or I've also heard some people call you the Mother General."

"I'm just a normal woman," Myra protested. "Can't we stop them? That's ridiculous, and quite frankly, kind of offensive. If they want to pray for help, why can't they pray to God or Our Lady instead? Hell, I'll teach them the rosary myself if it'll put a stop to this madness."

Danse sighed as he listened to her protests. It reminded him of a similar argument from a few years prior. Arthur had found out that the West Coast Brotherhood had been forced to contend with a smattering of cults that worshiped the Last Maxson as a god-like figure. Danse had never seen his friend as furious as he was when he'd heard the news. He'd ordered them to suppress his worshipers immediately, and had even threatened to jump from the Prydwen's foredeck without armor, if only to prove that he wasn't divine.

But as Danse suspected would be the case with Myra's devotees, all this had done was provoke an even more fervent reverence for the Elder. Eventually, Arthur had learned to ignore the cults, and Myra would have to learn the same lesson. "Larimer, stop," Danse ordered. "I know it's unpleasant, but if you really stand for the freedom of the people, you'll have to get used to the idea that sometimes people make poor decisions. The best response is to just let it go."

She sighed. "You're probably right." Myra turned to Sturges. "I'm sorry for getting so angry. If it really means that much to people, you can leave my house there. But don't let anyone build a chapel or anything in it, okay? That's really not okay."

Sturges nodded. "I'm sorry, General."

"It's not your fault, Sturges," Myra replied. "I just don't understand people. I guess I never really did."

As they neared the rendezvous point, Danse noticed that the vertibird was already waiting for them. "Sturges," he said, "you can leave the armor in the passenger bay. Thank you for agreeing to Larimer's ridiculous request."

The mechanic removed his helmet, grinning. "I'll admit, I just wanted a chance to give her a proper goodbye." He pulled Myra into a tight hug, and she squeaked anxiously as her feet left the ground. "Come home safe, General. Even if it's not to stay. Preston will flay me alive if your armor fails, so take care of it."

"Noted," she gasped, hugging Sturges back. "Sanctuary's in your hands, Brian. If you need anything, make sure you talk to Cato. I'm not sure our radios will work in the Glowing Sea, but he'll be able to send word to Preston."

The mechanic nodded, setting her down and hurrying off to the vertibird to readjust the armor for Myra's frame.

Danse sighed heavily as that dreadful dark feeling surged in his veins again. He hated the way seeing Myra interact with other men sometimes made him feel, like he wasn't completely in control of his anger. "You shouldn't let them do that," he warned.

"Do what?" Myra asked.

"Let people touch you like that. You're too familiar with everyone," the Paladin continued. "You have to be careful when it comes to physical affection. The last thing you want is to give anyone the wrong idea. And not everyone has good intentions."

Myra chuckled. "Oh, Danse. You're being weird again. Sturges is harmless. He's a little eccentric, but he doesn't mean any harm."

"Still, I...It's not exactly fitting. You're the leader of an army, Larimer, and a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel. You have to be more careful with how people perceive you. Decorum exists for a reason."

"I still think you're overreacting," she replied. "I understand that not everyone can be trusted. But I'm not going to be cold to my friends just because it bothers you."

"I suppose," Danse conceded. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Myra rolled her eyes. "Fine, Danse. Whatever. Can we go now?"

The Paladin nodded. "That would be for the best," he agreed.

The vertibird ride was long and quiet. After their argument outside the craft, Myra seemed sad, subdued. Danse wanted to take it back, to tell her that she hadn't done anything wrong. But the truth was, he found her openness towards everyone she met confusing to the point of aggravation. The fact that she had no problem letting people touch her...

Was there anything between Myra and the Paladin after all, if she behaved that way with everyone? He'd just been warming to the idea of a relationship with her, but how foolish would he look if he submitted the transfer papers, just to have her tell him that she didn't feel the same way as he did?

And how did he feel about her? The question had been haunting him for months. He was drawn to her, that much was certain. He'd only rarely felt as close to someone as he did to Myra. Besides Arthur, there was no one alive he trusted more. But Danse wasn't certain if his attraction to her was romantic, or merely a strong desire to protect her. That was the distinction that troubled him the most.

As far as he knew, Danse had never been in love. He'd gone on a number of dates in the past, usually at Arthur's insistence, but the Paladin had never felt a connection to any of those women. Kissing them had felt nice, of course, and he'd even found their company to be pleasant on occasion. But every time, the women he was involved with would lose interest in him, and while it was disappointing on an intellectual level, he'd never felt much of a loss in their absence. There were more important things to worry about, like helping to fulfill the Brotherhood's mission.

Myra was different. The connection they shared was electric, palpable, even if Danse wasn't sure how to define it. It bothered him to see her interact with other men in a way that he'd never been bothered before, but was it jealousy or just his desire to protect her that made him so upset? She represented something so rare, so pure to him, the youth and fragile beauty of a lost culture that he longed for. But she wasn't just an icon to hold on to. She was Myra Larimer, his comrade. His sister-at-arms. His friend.

One thing was certain, regardless of the nature of his feelings for her. Myra was important to him, and he would do anything for her. Perhaps, in the end, this was enough.

Myra cleared her throat nervously, startling him. "Danse, before we get to the Glowing Sea...there's something I want you to have."

He looked over at her, curiosity overwhelming his confusion. "What is it?" he asked.

She handed him a small, worn card, emblazoned with an image of a queenly woman holding an infant, her foot crushing a serpent beneath it. He recognized the image from several of the ruined churches he had encountered over the years. On the reverse was a small paragraph in Latin, the text too worn to read clearly.

"It's...it was Nate's holy card of Our Lady of Victory," Myra continued. "He carried it with him when he was deployed. I know it probably seems silly, but after...I just, I want you to have it. Maybe it will keep you safe too."

"I can't take this, Larimer," he protested. "It's too precious to you."

"Please, Danse. I think Nate would want you to have it. After everything you've done, all the times you've risked your life for me...It just seems right for you to have it."

He smiled gently down at her, tucking the worn card into his power armor. "Very well, Larimer. Thank you. I will treasure it always."

"Danse, I'm sorry that I-"

The vertibird jerked suddenly, throwing Myra off balance. Danse quickly caught her by the arm, pulling her tightly against him.

"Kai, what the hell is going on?" Danse bellowed.

"Sorry, sir!" Lancer-Captain Kai yelled from the vertibird cockpit. "We're getting about as close to the Glowing Sea as I can fly us. Any closer and we'll risk burning out the engines."

Danse looked down, his eyes widening as he took in the tormented landscape below them. There was a clear demarcation between the Glowing Sea and the rest of the Commonwealth, an eerie, green haze glimmering like an aurora enveloping a vast swath of land, stretching as far as the Paladin could see. Here and there, the glowing mist parted to reveal the twisted remains of man-made structures, a graveyard of civilization.

Myra gasped. "It's beautiful," she said softly.

"It certainly is," Danse replied. "But it's also quite deadly."

She snorted. "Just like me!"

Danse almost nodded in agreement before he realized what he was doing. He released his protective grip on Myra clearing his throat. "You should put your armor on. We'll have to bail out before we hit the fog if we want to see what we're landing on." He turned towards the cockpit. "Thank you, Kai. We'll call for you when we return to the extraction point."

"Good luck out there, Senior Paladin," the pilot replied. "I'm glad it's not me going in there. Ad Victoriam!"

"Ad Victoriam!" Danse and Myra echoed.

Myra who cranked open her power armor with a nervous chuckle. "That hissing noise never gets any less startling, right?"

"Are you ready, Knight?" Danse asked softly.

"As ready as I'm ever going to get," she said, climbing into the worn T-45 suit. "Oh, hell," she continued, her voice tinny and muffled within her helmet. "It's as bad in here as I remember."

"Just breathe, Larimer," Danse said calmly, slipping his own helmet on. "I'll be by your side the whole time."

"You'd better be," she retorted, her breathing labored. "I...I'm scared, Danse."

"I know," he replied. "But your son is counting on you. You can do this."

"Yeah, I...I can do this," Myra said, her voice shaking. "I can do this. I've just got to...oh, God...I've just got to jump, right?"

Danse frowned. His attempts to soothe her nerves weren't working. She was clearly too frightened to bail out. And with her armored up, there was only so much he could do to help her. He reached out his hand, taking hers and gripping it tightly. "We'll go together," he said. "Just hold on to me. I promise, I'll make sure you're safe."

Myra followed him carefully to the edge of the cabin. "We're still so high up," she murmured. "Look at how small the trees look from up here."

The Paladin gripped her hand tighter. "Larimer. Look at me. We can do this. I'm not going to let go of your hand until we're safely on the ground. You're an incredibly brave woman. You can handle this."

She nodded. "Okay, but if I break my legs, you have to carry me for the rest of the mission."

"Very well," he promised. "But that will not happen. Power armor is designed for jumps like this."

"If you say so." Myra exhaled sharply. "Let's go, before I get too freaked out."

Danse nodded, and the two of them leapt from the vertibird, plummeting to the ground below. The Paladin cringed as Myra's shrill scream of terror filled his helmet. But the shriek, like the drop, only lasted a few seconds before their feet connected with the scarred earth with a mighty boom. "Was that so bad?" Danse asked as he released his grip on Myra's hand.

She groaned in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Danse."

"It's quite all right," he replied. "Just, next time, can you try not to scream quite so loudly? My ears are still ringing."

"I'll do my best," Myra muttered. She looked towards their destination, flipping her headlight on. "Well, here goes nothing. Let's get this over with."