Danse and Howard went their separate ways once they reached the Prywden. Part of Danse did perhaps want to hover around the medical bay and pepper Cade with questions about her condition, but he did not want his far-too-familial concern for Howard to be evident to everyone else. Instead he returned to his quarters and then checked in with some other Paladins about the Brotherhood's efforts to secure the airport below them. He did not want to speak to Maxson right away—as soon as he heard how wildly insubordinate Howard was being, he would likely not be happy.
After a few hours, Howard had not appeared, so Danse assumed she was being held in the medical bay for observation, probably against her will. He crossed the airship, but as soon as he reached the threshold to the clinic, he hesitated. He clenched one of his hands until his knuckles were white. He wished he was wearing his power armor.
When he walked into the medical bay, Howard spotted him immediately from her place on a cot.
"Danse, you've got to help me!" she said hurriedly.
His heart skipped a beat as his brow arched in. "What's wrong?"
Howard pointed across the room to Knight-Captain Cade, who was clacking away on his terminal. "He won't let me leave," she said. "And I've asked very politely multiple times!"
Cade rolled his eyes. "We can't all fall prey to your charms, Howard," he replied.
"Why are you keeping her here?" Danse asked.
Cade stood and crossed his arms. "Well, Paladin, it could have something to do with her broken ribs, the second degree burns on her arm, the head trauma, the radiation exposure. Oh and-,"
Danse raised his hand. "Alright, I get it." He turned and looked at Howard. "Cade has a point."
Howard frowned and leaned back against her pillows with a huff. "I feel fine. We need to get that chip decoded."
"And we will," Danse assured her. "In a few days, when you're feeling better."
"I feel fine," she repeated again, with a clenched jaw.
He walked over and perched on the edge of her cot, as gently and far away as he possibly could. "Howard, you have been running yourself ragged," he said. "For months. These injures have accumulated, and it will incapacitate you eventually. Shaun will be fine, even after a few days. You aren't failing him."
Her eyes narrowed slightly in a calculating silence before she dropped her arms. "Fine," she muttered. "I find it hard to believe that you have convinced me of anything, but I will rest for a few days. Then we go straight to Amari to decode the chip."
"Deal," he said.
Howard positioned herself more comfortably against her pillows, and Danse did not miss the wince that escaped her. "What are those for?" she asked him, gesturing to the books rested under his hand.
Danse's eyes darted evasively over to Cade, but we was absorbed in talking to another patient. "After I heard you were here, I thought, uh—that you…" He splayed them out on the cot. "I have collected a number of pre-war novels, and I thought some of them might interest you."
Her brow rose. "You always complain when I pick up pre-war junk."
"Books are not junk," he pointed out. "Broken typewriters and lamps that will never work? That's junk."
"In your opinion, at least," she replied, as she reached over and selected one of his books. She inspected the binding and flipped through some of the brittle pages. "This is in surprisingly good shape."
"I've spent a lot of time searching the Commonwealth as a part of my duties in Reconnaissance Squad Gladius. I found that book in a bunker in a personal home in the Capital Wasteland."
She read the cover with a smirk. "Power Armor and Its Origins," she said. "And here I thought you were a fan of torrid romance novels."
"I prefer history to…ridiculous smut," he replied with a skeptical look. "Though I suppose that area isn't as interesting to you because—well, you are history."
She lifted her head. "Are you calling me old?"
"Well, you are technically upwards of two hundred-," Danse stopped because her jaw had dropped slightly, and he realized his unwavering presentation of the truth was perhaps—tactless.
"I wasn't calling you old," he finished hurriedly. "You are young and, uh, other things."
She snorted. "Maybe not young, but I'm not thirty yet, either." She opened the book again and flipped to a page near the middle. "If you want to see a young Addison, look at this."
Howard turned the book around and showed him the page. There was a collage of black and white pictures, faded, but still visible because of the condition he'd found it in.
He grabbed it probably more aggressively than he meant to. "Is that you?" he began incredulously.
"There's a whole chapter in this book dedicated to my father's work," she replied. "You can't talk about power armor without the fusion core."
"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "I can't believe I didn't think about…I should have realized…"
She smiled slightly. "It's okay, Danse."
He looked back down at the book on his lap. The pictures were mostly of Dr. Clayton—displaying his fusion core for the first time, presumably at some press conference. Him in a lab, probably at CIT, working with a set of beakers. The last photo was him with his family in front of a palatial estate. Both Howard's parents were stone-faced, her mother's hair pulled back severely from her temple.
Howard stood between them, smiling wanly. She was wearing a well-made and demure dress with sleeves down to her elbows. He couldn't quite pinpoint her age, but she looked in her late teens.
"The house is in the book because my father had it built with a lab in the basement," Howard explained. "One of the best in the country, for his own personal use. It was dangerous for him to have it there, but he didn't care. He was more concerned about protecting his research and improving the fusion core."
She crossed her arms and leaned back. "That was taken just when the house was finished, right before I left for college."
"When is that?" he asked.
"Oh, right," Howard replied with a wave of her hand. "No college around anymore. I was 18."
Danse closed the book. "Do you know what happened to them? Your parents? When the bombs fell?"
Howard laced her fingers together to stop herself from wringing them. "No," she admitted. "Nate's father was the one who arranged for us to be put on the list for a Vault. I don't know if my parents went to one too, though they'd be dead by now anyway." Her eyes finally darted up to his. "I…don't care."
"I'm sorry," Danse said quickly. "I shouldn't have-,"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she replied. "It's not your fault my parents weren't exactly loving."
Danse pulled the book further away. "But I don't want to make those bad memories resurface."
Howard sighed. "They're only memories. It hardly matters."
He reddened and looked away. "Well—here. I have other books too." He picked up another one. "This is—oh. The History of the Commonwealth."
Howard laughed. "God, do you have anything interesting?"
"This is interesting," he insisted. "I've lived in the Wasteland my whole life. Before all this destruction—I mean, there were grocery stores, for example." He waved his hand backwards. "You didn't have to fight for your food or scavenge for it. You drove to a building and had everything you needed."
"Well that's true," she said. "But that's not much of a compelling story." She pulled herself out from under the covers and tried to crawl to the end of the cot.
"Be careful," he sputtered, but she just waved her hand and plopped down next to him. She spread out the other books. "Is this everything you've got?"
"No," he said. "I have a few more."
"Looks like our Paladin Danse is quite the hoarder," she remarked with a grin.
"That's rich, coming from you," Danse said. "If we pick up one more aluminum can or another broken pencil, I'll scream."
"That would be a refreshing change of pace from your stoicism," she replied.
Danse made an indignant sound. "I am not—stoic," he protested. "I merely take my job seriously."
"Oh, I'm aware," she replied. She reached over his knee to pick another book, and he wasn't sure if he should lean away or not. He didn't.
"It was nice of you to bring these," she said. "I was afraid I would be bored."
"I'm confident you would have found someone to talk to," he replied.
"What will you do?" she asked, as she began crawling back towards the head of her cot with the book she picked.
Danse stood with a single book remaining in his hand. "I need to speak with Proctor Ingram. I plan to somehow convince her to give you another suit of power armor since you blew yours up."
Howard smiled sheepishly. "I hope it works. Maybe—I could go. We've spoken many times and-,"
"I can handle it, Howard," he said with a wave of his hand. "I'll get you the armor."
"Okay," she replied, though she still looked uncertain. "I need to get back to Virgil. It's important."
He stepped slightly closer. "I won't let you down."
Howard leaned back with an encouraging smile. "I know you won't."
Danse nodded to her. "I will see you later, Howard. I intend to periodically check in on you to ensure you are following Knight-Captain Cade's orders."
Her lip quirked up further. "I'm looking forward to it."
Danse raised his hand in a brief wave as he turned towards the door. She returned the gesture far more enthusiastically. When he crossed into the hallway, his hand tightened around the book he'd taken along with him. It was the one with her picture in it.
No matter what Howard said, he clearly should have known better than bring that book to her attention. Parts of her past had produced good memories, but not all of them.
He opened the pages again once he was closer to Ingram's workstation. The number of times that he'd scanned this thing in his desperation to know as much about power armor as possible—he should have made the connection before. Recognized her. But the person Howard was before the war looked nothing like who she was now. Still, to think he'd been carrying around a picture of her all these years—that he would meet someone who he saw in the course of his extensive studies of the world before the war. It was unsettling.
Danse stopped just before he reached Ingram. Howard was an upbeat and outgoing person, as much as she could be in these circumstances. He had not expected her to look so sad in that photo.
Addison hated many things about being confined in the medical bay. She was helpless there. No longer actively searching for Shaun, furthering her quest. Just sitting and waiting for the injuries from her mistakes to heal.
She spent too much time thinking in that cot, too. Her plan to kill the Courser had been fueled by desperation and adrenaline. In addition to almost killing her, it did kill another human being. Well—that's what Danse believed.
At Greentech Genetics, Addison hadn't thought about the fact that the Courser was looking for another synth. That is, until that person was dead in a pile of rubble.
Addison had seen the young female synth out of the corner of her eye when she had first approached the Courser, but she hadn't been cognizant of what her plan would to do the woman.
Later, after the explosion, Addison had not told Danse that the body was a synth when they came across it. She knew he would not feel any sympathy, and he should. Despite what the Brotherhood extolled as anti-synth virtues, Addison still saw humanity in them. Nick was her friend, and if her mistake had hurt him, she would be devastated.
Her mistakes terrified her. What if something happened to Danse because of her errors? Or another one of her companions? That would be unacceptable, synth or not. Hell, if anything happened to Dogmeat she'd be devastated.
If Danse knew how badly this was affecting her—her guilt over a dead synth—he'd tell her to toughen up. Probably congratulate her on removing an Institute abomination from the Commonwealth. She didn't want to acknowledge how acutely his prejudices against non-humans presented themselves.
Eventually, Addison escaped from Cade's clutches on the Prydwen, and she and Danse immediately returned to Goodneighbor. Danse did not have any power armor for her, but he gave her assurances that he would arrange for her to receive another set. She was touched by his earnestness to do things for her, and it felt nice to understand his reasoning behind it.
Amari did not have good news for them. She had no capacity to translate the Courser chip and directed them to the Railroad. The Railroad. Addison had yet to encounter that elusive group, but she knew what they did.
The Railroad crusaded on behalf of synths, freeing them and fighting the Institute. But it also meant they were in the cross-hairs of the Brotherhood, and Danse would not be happy about requesting their aid.
Addison was quick to leave the Memory Den, while Danse trailed loudly behind her. She could feel his eyes on her, lips pursed in annoyance and hardly holding in his words before they got to the street.
"We are not going to find the Railroad," he announced, and Addison sighed heavily before turning to him.
"Danse-,"
"They are our enemies," he continued. "It would be dangerous to approach them."
"We don't have-,"
"I'm sure that someone in the Brotherhood will be able to decode the chip," he said.
Addison crossed her arms. "Are you going to let me say anything?"
"No," he replied simply.
She huffed. "And why not?"
"Because I don't want to be convinced," he said. "And if you speak, you'll do exactly that. So we are not going to have a discussion."
Her lip quirked up in a small smile. "I've been known to persuade with just an expression," she said, then gave him a wide-eyed look that she envisioned Dogmeat would give anyone if he wanted some of their food.
Danse furrowed his brow slightly, thinking, before he shook his head. "Ineffective."
Addison exhaled sharply. "Fine, then listen to me. I'm not going to join the Railroad. I'm going to utilize their skills to get us into the Institute. That's our real enemy, isn't it?" She gestured backward. "If there's no Institute, there can be no synths for the Railroad to save."
"We have alternatives," Danse insisted.
She shook her head. "We don't. You know that. No one in the Brotherhood has killed—probably even encountered—a Courser. We need experts." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the chip. "This is sensitive technology. What if a Brotherhood tech were to compromise it? I don't think I can afford to kill another Courser."
"I-," Danse grit his teeth. "It just doesn't feel right."
She stepped forward and put her hand on his armor. Not as effective because the armor was not actually a part of his person, despite how often he wore it. "Danse, I know this is outside protocol. Probably some of the craziest stuff you've done since joining the Brotherhood. But we are doing something no one has ever done. It's going to take—unorthodox measures."
"There is a difference between unorthodox and patently irresponsible," he pointed out.
Addison sighed. "If you're truly that uncomfortable with it, maybe I should go find the Railroad with Nick. He's a synth; that might garner some sympathy with them. And—well, bringing you might be what's dangerous."
He frowned. "What does that mean?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "Danse, come on. You can't march into their base in your power armor. You think they'll be okay with a Brotherhood Paladin showing up? You don't think they won't know who you are?"
"Howard," he began incredulously. "You can't be serious. I don't want you to find them without-,"
"We talked about you being overprotective," Addison said gently.
"So you propose to test my resolve for the first time by asking me to let you locate the Railroad? Alone?" he replied.
"I won't be alone," she insisted. "I'll have Nick. And Dogmeat."
"I don't find that particularly comforting," he muttered. "Though I think you'd be safer with the dog than that synth."
Addison's mouth tightened so the pale pink on her lips was white, but she did not reprimand him. "Well if you can't find comfort in that, just trust me."
Danse looked up at the sky, then let his head fall back down. "This is why I didn't want to have a discussion about it."
She grinned. "Because I've won and you're a sore loser?"
"What exactly am I supposed to do while you approach the Railroad?" he asked.
"I'm sure you can find a way to make yourself useful on the Prydwen," she replied. "I'll be gone a few days, at most."
"Fine," he said, and she saw his shoulders lift from his sigh even in his power armor. "You will approach our enemies for assistance, as terrible of an idea as that is."
"My bad ideas have worked before," she said brightly, mouth widening into a smile.
Danse did not return the gesture. "I would hate to see your luck run out."
"Well that's what I have you for," she replied. "But you don't have to worry this time because I'm not going to be in danger finding the Railroad. They'll like me."
Danse did not seem completely won over by Addison's assurances, but at least he was not insisting that he accompany her to the Railroad headquarters. Danse made it hard for people to get along with him sometimes, and he was not exactly subtle. If the Railroad were truly as secretive as everyone said, Danse was not the person she needed with her. At least for now.