A stern voice came out of the darkness. "Stop right there. Hands over your head."
Obediently, Nora lifted her arms up and blinked against the blinding intensity of the bright spotlights that were trained on her.
"It's a little late for a friendly visit. State your intentions," the voice ordered.
Friendly?
She bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile. "I'm here to start a war."
She received a bark of laughter in return. "You and what army?" The red dot of a laser marked a sun-rotted board two feet in front of her. She watched it slowly trace across the bridge, then up onto the toe of her boot.
Another voice, deeper and richer and familiar, interrupted. "Hold on, people. General? Ramirez, open up the gate. She's no raider."
Preston Garvey stepped through the reinforced panels of the junk gate, breaching the overlapping circles of light than shone down on the bridge from above. The doubled up glare of the spotlights created a sharp halo around him, and it suited him. He looked like an angel - she'd always thought so. The goodness and decency that were as much a part of him as the scars on his face emanated out through his velvety brown, gentle eyes. Soft doe eyes, not feral rad stag.
Why couldn't you have fallen in love with him instead?
Nora squeezed her temples between her palms and hummed loudly to silence the taunting voice inside.
"General? You ok?" Preston stepped closer. His taller frame and curled brim of his hat blocked the majority of the light now, sliding her face back into welcome darkness.
Avoid. Deflect.
"I haven't been a very good general, Preston. We both know that."
He demurred with a shake of his head. Loyal as always, his face held no condemnation, only acceptance. "You've been busy elsewhere."
She could read between the lines, diplomatic as they were: "You've been busy with the Brotherhood." That very involvement was the reason her own people didn't recognize her.
"I'm done with the Brotherhood. As of this morning, I quit."
Preston's blinked a few times and slung the strap of his laser musket over his shoulder while he digested the information. "I… wow. I wasn't expecting to hear that."
He peered out into the darkness. Nora knew who he was looking for. "What about Paladin —"
Nora shook her head violently to stop him. "No. Don't."
What was she supposed to say? That Danse now hated himself and her? That her heart remained behind her, separated from its body? Nora pressed both hands to her stomach to hold herself together. It wasn't right. None of this was right.
Preston's gaze scrutinized her face, searching for answers. Whatever he saw there made him shift closer to her. He reached out a hand and curled his fingers over her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say anything right now. Just take it easy."
His voice was hushed and kind now, much like it had been in the beginning, right after Concord, when it had taken him three days to coax her back out of the ruined shell of her home. When he'd helped her dig a grave for each body in the Vault. When he and Codsworth had helped her carry Nate's shrouded corpse to the elevator.
Nora almost reached out to him for comfort — for a hug and a shoulder to cry on — but stopped herself. It wasn't his fault, but Preston wasn't who she needed. The man she needed had followed her here from a deliberate distance, like he couldn't even stand to walk beside her. A subvocal keen rose in the back of her throat, so low that only she could hear it. It vibrated against her teeth and shivered in her marrow.
Swallow it down.
She threw her head back into the light, now welcoming the dizzying blindness. "I'm taking the fight to the Institute myself. Are the Minutemen ready to mobilize?"
Preston eyed her for a long, speculative moment, seeing right through her theatrical pose but kindly saying nothing more. He turned his attention to the question and nodded slowly, thoughtfully before answering. "We might be. We have enough settlements onboard for the manpower now, thanks to you." He squeezed her shoulder gently in emphasis.
She could focus on logistics and the warmth of his hand. Neither added any more pain to an already overburdened soul. "What else? Supplies? Caps?"
"Most of the settlers have pipe pistols and homemade armor. Fine against raiders or molerats. Against the Institute?" He shrugged. "With some more supplies and a whole hell of a lot of planning and luck, it's doable, though."
"Good. Supplies can be bought or bartered for. Favors can be called in. There's a Gunner encampment south of Fort Hagen. We can knock those fuckers off for some weapons and armor too." Nora pursed her lips. "The big question is do we have a way inside the Institute yet? The signal interceptor trick won't work a second time and Sh — the director deactivated the chip in my Pip-Boy."
Cautious hope lit Preston's features. "Sturges has been picking through the data on the holotape you brought back and he's found some possibilities. It's late, but he's still in his workshop."
Preston angled his head deferentially towards the open gate. Nora began to follow him, then she stopped, hating herself for the weakness that listened for another pair of feet crossing the bridge after her. When she heard none, she let out a shuddering breath and stepped through the rusting gate into Sanctuary Hills.
Home sweet home.
Sturges was kneeling in front of the power armor rack at the back of Mrs. Rosas' carport – now his carport – squinting against the lazy tendrils of smoke rising from the cigarette dangling from his mouth. The torque wrench in hand rasped pleasantly at the knee joint of the armor, in tempo with the song warbling out of the nearby radio and Sturges's own tuneless humming.
If you'll excuse an expression I use,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love with a wonderful guy!
Nora felt her face blanch as the lyrics sunk in; she had to suck in a shaky breath to settle the writhing nausea that rose in her throat. Fortunately, Preston had his back to her and didn't notice her adverse reaction. He knocked politely on one of the aluminum braces holding that section of roof up, announcing their presence to the occupant inside.
Sturges craned his head around to look over his shoulder, nodding when he saw the two of them. "Evenin', General. Preston. How can I help y'all?" He gave a final twist of the handle, then disengaged the socket and carefully set it in the open toolbox next to the rack.
Nora slipped past Preston and up onto the oil-stained concrete pad. A quick turn of the volume knob silenced the dreadful song.
"Preston tells me you might've found a way inside the Institute."
Sturges pushed himself off of the floor, absently taking a grease-stained rag from his back pocket and rubbing it over his callused hands. "Has he, now?" he drawled. The rag returned to his pocket and he held out one hand, rocking it side to side in the air to indicate iffiness.
"Place is a rat's nest, worse than the Quincy sewers. Tunnels that lead to nowhere, whole sections that've been abandoned or rebuilt." Sturges exhaled twin plumes of smoke through his nose, then flicked his cigarette butt to the concrete and ground it under his heel.
"Reckon I'm about eighty percent of the way through the data. So far, I've found two little entries that look promising. One of 'em mentions the old cooling water tunnels for the reactor. The other said somethin' about a connection with the transit system underneath Cambridge. Need to do s'more research before I can give you a definite answer, though."
He looked from Nora to Preston, then outside the carport as if he expected to see someone else standing there. "If you don't mind me asking, where's the Brotherhood at? With all your people, you must've been able to pick through the data much faster."
Preston gave Sturges a warning shake of his head, but it was too late.
Feeling utterly lost and hopeless, Nora slumped against the workbench behind her and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, both Preston and Sturges were eyeing her with concern.
"They're not my people anymore. None of them are. That fucking data caused too much damage." She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The pain was a welcome diversion.
"How long will you need to be certain? We need a way inside."
The mechanic shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, carefully avoiding her eyes. "Dunno. Week maybe?"
A week. She had a grace period of one week to mourn her most recent loss. Reeling, she looked out of the carport. Across the street lay the derelict, dark hulk of her house, with its boarded over windows and doors. The house of tomorrow, today.
She should've burned it down, crib and all, and finished what the nuke hadn't been able to. The voices of Preston and Sturges voice faded out, replaced with the roar of a thermonuclear blast wave. The feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming. She and Nate had run out into the street — right there, across from this carport. Panicked, she'd looked back at the house — just like this — wavering for a split second until Nate nudged her back and shouted at her to get moving. The before image still remained and would always remain, burned into the retina of her memory.
Preston gently touched her shoulder, drawing her attention back to the here and now. She had to blink her eyes a few times before his concerned face swam back into view. Was she crying? Nora raised her fingertips to her cheeks, feeling wetness.
Yes, she was crying.
"Listen... it's late. You should get some sleep. This can all wait, and things — whatever they are — might look a little better in the morning." The words were again gentle and kind. Caring.
Sturges, whose normally cheerful face was also puckered with worry, nodded agreement and jerked his thumb towards the open doorway. "C'mon, you can crash here. Plenty of room."
Nora knew they were right. She was exhausted and sore and broken. She was too close to the edge. Too close to telling Danse she'd run back to Maxson with her tail tucked between her legs and kill anybody he asked her to.
Too close to setting her old house on fire and walking into it.
Nora shook her head and began to back away. Away from Preston and Sturges, away from her former home and neighborhood, towards the cavernous, lifeless vault on the hill. It was where she belonged. Everything she was had ended there, she just hadn't known it yet. She whirled around to run then, but her boot heel caught in a wide crack in the asphalt of the street outside the house.
Strong arms caught her, breaking her fall. Nora needed those arms so fucking much. She twisted and wriggled until she clung fiercely to their owner, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her fingers twined in Danse's hair, forcing his head down until his cheek was pressed against hers.
Nora nuzzled her nose into the hinge of his jaw and inhaled. It might be the last time she'd ever get to hold him like this. "I told you I didn't want any goodbyes. Why didn't you fucking listen to me?" Her breath caught on a sob.
"Nora, look at me."
His voice was stern and rough. She felt his fingers on her upper arms. He was trying to peel her off of him so he could tell her he was leaving. Leaving her, leaving her...
Nora fought against him until he gave up trying to contain her and simply hoisted her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Heartbroken, she crumpled against his chest, listened as he rumbled out a few distant-sounding words to Preston and Sturges.
It was only fair. She deserved it, after all. She'd run away from him, now she had to watch him leave her.
She was rocking in his arms now. The distant roaring in her ears was becoming louder. One eye cracked open, then two. He'd taken her down to the edge of the river, and now he was setting her down on a bench of the rickety old picnic table they'd never quite gotten around to scrapping. Nora clamped her palms around the splintered wood of the seat until she quit wobbling. Under the light of the full moon with the man she loved with all her heart in front of her, this setting would be terribly romantic if she weren't shattered into jagged shards.
Yet...
Why was he squatting in front of her? And taking her hands in his?
Danse sighed and ducked his head for two agonizing heartbeats before looking back up at her. "If you have a moment, I have something… personal I'd like to discuss."
This… didn't sound like goodbye. Did it? His voice wasn't harsh, it was … soft?
"Sure," she whispered.
"Honestly, I don't even know where to begin. There's so much I wanted to say." His brows drew together; gently she eased a hand from his and smoothed the dent between them.
"Take a deep breath. Like this." Nora inhaled with him one-two-three and cupped his cheeks between her palms as they exhaled together.
"Good. Now start from the beginning," she breathed.
Danse nodded once and slid his hands around the backs of her calves to help balance himself. Her thumbs sought the crests of his cheekbones and stroked them.
"I've spent my entire life… or at least what I perceive as my life… following a plan to shape my own future. But since my banishment, I feel lost… almost like I exist without purpose. For the first time since that moment I signed up with the Brotherhood, I don't have all the answers. I don't have a plan and it scares the hell out of me."
Fresh tears came to her eyes at the utter misery present in his face and voice. Nora smoothed the hair back from his temple. No, she wasn't imagining it — he leaned into her touch. Just for a second, but it was a very important second.
"What you've gone through would throw anyone for a loop. You're just confused."
With a suddenness that made her gasp and fly back against the table, Danse launched himself to his feet explosively and started pounding a hard, short path back and forth in front of the table.
"You're damn right I'm confused," he snapped. "I'm a machine who thinks like a human who was trained to hunt the very thing I've become."
He speared his fingers through his hair and kicked a discarded tin can. "Don't you understand? Everything I had, everything I knew is gone. In the span of a few hours, my identity was ripped from me and my world turned upside down."
Nora whimpered and hugged herself. Oh god. She'd been wrong. This was is it. This was goodbye.
Danse's voice softened again, though. His pacing slowed and he came to a halt directly in front of her.
"At least what you had was something tangible… something real." He reached out his hands and clenched them around empty air in bitter emphasis.
"Your husband, your son… they were living, breathing humans who loved and cared for you. Those sons of bitches who created me couldn't even be bothered to implant memories of having siblings or parents. I don't know how much of my past is artificial and how much is real. Can you even imagine that? I started out as nothing, and I've ended up as nothing… and I don't know what the hell to do about it."
His shoulders folded inward and his eyes slid shut. In a flash of clarity, she realized he was asking for help. He was asking for her help.
"Didn't I already convince you that giving up was a mistake?" she asked.
For a few seconds, she thought she hadn't spoken loud enough for him to hear against the background white noise of the river. Then Danse sighed and opened his eyes.
"You did. I suppose you're right." One of his shoulders rolled. "Maybe I'm just missing the point. My life's starting over and I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained. Which includes something important you've made me realize."
Once again, Danse sank to his haunches in front of her and engulfed her small hands in his large ones.
"I don't know if it's an anomaly in my programming. After all I'm not really human. But whatever it is, I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met," he said earnestly.
She started trembling at that, hard enough for him to frown at her with concern. Nora let herself fall forward, knowing he'd catch her. And he did. He drew her hands up to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her securely.
"You're not saying goodbye, are you?" she whispered into his neck. "You're not."
He shook his head and eased her back upright. "No. That's not what I'm trying to say. I..."
His mouth worked and for a breathless moment, she thought… she hoped… She nearly whimpered again when he ended up shaking his head instead and slid his gaze away.
He wasn't saying goodbye. He was trying to say something else. Something else, something else…
Nora kneaded his shoulders. "I'm right here. What are you trying to tell me?" The laugh that shivered out of her sounded half-crazed, because it was. Her heart was racing a million beats per minute. No, per second.
"No cliffhangers. Please. My heart can't take it."
The corner of his mouth quirked at that. Danse took a breath deep enough to fully expand his rib cage and blew it back out.
"This is difficult. Please bear with me." He paused and waited until she nodded before continuing: "Due to my position as your commanding officer, it was … advisable for me to remain as impersonal as possible. I don't think that's possible anymore. If anything positive comes from my banishment, it's the fact that I have maneuverability now. The freedom to follow paths that were previously inaccessible. I don't see any reason not to take them."
He shrugged. "I can't calculate any variable that doesn't lead straight to you. What I'm saying is… well, I think I'm in love with you."
