Nora felt like she was falling, spinning, everything around her blurred as she suddenly felt weightless. When she finally looked up, her chest constricted, clamping tighter around her breath, bringing her eyes to meet the pair in front of her.
Sergeant Lance Kevins.
His face broke into a soft smile as he gently patted her shoulder before taking a seat at the desk across from her, throwing his feet up on the surface.
She was suddenly aware that her shoulder no longer hurt like it had only moments before and after looking down, she noticed she was back in her uniform. Looking around the room, she realized they were seated in her old station, the smell of cigarettes and burnt coffee fresh in the air.
"I got to hand it to you, kid. I ain't seen someone smart off to Velazquez like that in years." He started, moving to grab the mug on his desk.
She could hear the words echoing in her ears, the memory of this very conversation buried toward the back of her mind, hidden deep from memory. When she looked up at him again, the scene had changed. They were no longer in the police station, instead standing outside under the streetlight, the neon sign of the diner blinking behind them.
"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Nora." He whispered, his usually bright eyes contrasted by the dark circles beneath them.
"What do you mean, Kev?" She heard her voice ask, but the words hadn't come from her. She looked around, trying to find the source of the question.
"I- I don't know. I tried to talk to L.T about taking some time off. Just told me if I leave now I won't have a job to come back to." He mumbled, his warm voice broken by a profound sadness. "I can't afford... I need to keep my job, El."
She tried to reach forward, to offer him a sympathetic pat on the back, but her hands met cold glass in front of her. Panic began flooding through her, her fists moving without her consent as they hit against the interior of the cryopod. However, the man in the pod across from her wasn't Nate, it was Sergeant Kevins.
In an instant, she was standing in front of him, the cryopod door now open. Her eyes scanned her friend, taking in the wound on the side of his head, blood that had long since dried caked along the side of his face, and a small revolver still in his hand.
She could hear footsteps approaching and she looked up, taking in the man walking toward her. It was that bastard, that man who had shot Nate and kidnapped her innocent little Shaun. The man raised his gun toward her and the shot echoed through the Vault as she screamed in pain.
Nora jolted awake, pain searing from her side and shoulder. She was only partially cognizant of the tears streaming down her face, quiet sobs choked out of her throat. The room was dark, but she heard someone quietly move to her side.
"You're okay, Nora." A soft, female voice reassured her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders. Nora felt the prick of a needle in the crook of her elbow, followed by a warm sensation moving up her arm. "The Stimpak might make you feel drowsy, but don't try to fight it. You need to rest."
Nora could feel herself nodding, trying to formulate the words swirling around her head into a coherent answer. She could feel her body relaxing as the words faded from her mind and she drifted back to sleep.
Danse paced around the garage, his eyes darting back to the Power Armor station where he had been attempting and failing to repair his suit. Every time he tried to focus on the armor he found his mind wandering, trying to come to terms with everything that had gone wrong during their mission.
He chastised himself for being so foolish as to bring a civilian along on a Brotherhood mission. Patience wasn't something that came naturally to him, he always had the tendency to jump into the next mission as soon as possible.
The more he tried to work on the Power Armor, the more his guilt began to grow. If he had just waited a couple days for his team to recuperate, he wouldn't have had to drag Nora into danger. Now it was his fault that she was injured along with the rest of his team.
The guilt was even worse than losing Dawes, Keane, Worwick and Brach, even if only marginally so, because with them he could reassure himself that they at least knew what they were getting into. Despite the gnawing feeling he had in his stomach every time he thought of how he could have done better for his squad, it helped sometimes to remind himself that his team volunteered readily, having full knowledge of all the potential consequences. But he had outright asked Nora to tag along despite his reservations about her.
Granted, he had not anticipated the level of resistance they would face; had he known they would be going up against dozens of synths, he would have never put them in such a dangerous position.
Even worse, she then had to go and jumped in front of a gun for him, while he was busy lost in his own thoughts. He briefly thought of what she had said to him, about how he trusted her immediately and his own inability to explain exactly why was driving him crazy. She was right, he knew, but it didn't lessen his irritation about being completely and accurately scrutinized.
As he reanalyzed the details of the mission, Danse thought back to the compassion she had shown him when he divulged the loss of a majority of his squad. The look in her eyes was one of understanding, like she had know exactly what he was feeling.
Her contradictions were taking residence in the forefront of his thoughts, preventing him from getting any work on his Power Armor completed.
She was unlike anyone he had ever met both in the Commonwealth or back in the Capital Wasteland. Despite her initial claim that she was from a Vault, she had none of the naivety of a typical Vault dweller. However, she didn't look like a wastelander with her pale, near perfectly clear skin and hair that had looked to have been recently cleaned. Most of the settlers in the area were tanned from years of sun exposure and the luxury of a shower wasn't one most could afford. While some settlements had working showers, it was definitely a rarity.
Danse thought of how she had agreed to help readily, without a demand for compensation; definitely an uncommon thing to come across in the wasteland. There was also her confusion over his promise to compensate her for her help, her ignorance of caps, which were common place everywhere, from the Commonwealth all the way to the New California Republic.
In direct contrast from her apparent ignorance of caps and her overt display of sympathy, was how she handled herself in battle. She moved like she had tactical training, mirroring many of his own movements and displaying calm, quick thinking in the face of the ever-evolving mission. Some of her tactics reminded him of his own, those the Brotherhood of Steel had indoctrinated him with through years of training, but he was certain she wasn't Brotherhood or she would have known about synths, ghouls, and definitely the currency of the wasteland. She had even stated she didn't know who the Brotherhood of Steel were.
His thoughts moved onto her strange words, words that were uncommon to him but had sounded faintly familiar, some of which he had read in the pre-war book the scribes had stored back at the Citadel.
'What, you don't want to go toe to toe with anymore post-apocolyptic zombies tonight?'
'They were a lot harder to see before with the lights...and all that...'
'Can you imagine the evening news?'
'Do I look like an electrician to you, Danse?'
'De oppresso liber'
There was something familiar about the Latin phrase, but he couldn't quite place it. He knew that the use of Latin phrases was common in many military groups that had been formed across the wasteland, but that wasn't something he had heard from any of the militias in the Capitol.
He thought about the small book Haylen had gifted him shortly after they'd arrived in the Commonwealth, full of pre-war military slogans and history. There was something in the back of his mind that told him that was where he had seen the phrase before. With a sigh, he turned toward the door to the garage and ascended up the stairs, back into the main lobby.
As soon as he entered the lobby, he saw Haylen returning from the holding cells, an empty stimpak and bloodied bandages in her hand.
"Scribe Haylen." He started, eyeing her face constantly in an attempt to read her expression. "How is she doing?"
Haylen sighed, moving her arm down to her side still clutching the medical supplies. She glancing to Rhys who had finally fallen asleep on the bed in the corner and a small smile played at her lips at the sight of him.
"She's pretty banged up, but she should be fine." Haylen started, looking up to meet Danse's eyes. "In addition to the burn from the laser rifle, she has some swelling along her knuckles, bruises forming along her forearms, as well as a pretty nasty laceration on her side. I'd guess she was in some sort of fight earlier in the day based on how fresh the wounds were... You know it's interesting."
Haylen let out a soft chuckle pausing and shaking her head, looking up at Danse and briefly at Rhys before continuing. "She had plenty of medical supplies in her pack, including stimpaks and Med-X, but she obviously didn't use either. She chose to bandage it up instead, using gauze and the pressure of her armor to stop the bleeding."
Danse frowned, as he tried to process everything Haylen had told him. "That's certainly uncommon, Haylen. Those supplies are extremely valuable, but I'm not familiar with many people who would willing choose not to utilize them should they have them in their possession."
"My thoughts exactly Paladin. Especially considering the severity of the wound. It was much deeper than I was expecting it to be." She agreed, shuffling uncomfortably and looking to the floor. "She's lucky it wasn't much deeper. Whoever did that - Well, they almost killed her."
Danse nodded somberly, anger and fascination toward Nora growing with every bit of new information he received. "It was foolish of her to run into danger so soon after incurring a stab wound."
"If she didn't we likely wouldn't be having this conversation, sir." Haylen offered, implying what they both knew. Had Nora not shown up when she did, it was likely that the remainder of Recon Squad Gladius would have died in that courtyard. Furrowing his brow in thought, he scanned Haylen's face. The pair had trained together for years back at the Citadel, so he knew when his scribe was being deceptive. "Scribe Haylen, what aren't you telling me? Is there something else?"
"Sir, I- I don't feel comfortable." She paused, swallowing carefully at the guilty feeling in her stomach. The small woman met his eyes nervously before looking back toward the floor. "I don't feel like it's my place to tell you anything, seeing as she's under my care at the moment, but..."
"Haylen, do I need to pull rank here?" He asked firmly, watching the conflicting emotions cross her face. Pulling rank was not something he enjoyed doing, in fact it made him feel guilty and manipulative, but the safety of his team was his priority.
"No sir," she sighed, walking behind the desk to throw away the medical supplies she had been holding. Danse followed, shooting a quick look back to the still sleeping figure of Rhys. "When I was tending to her wounds I noticed some... unusual things..."
"Dear God Haylen, out with it already." He snapped, irritation at his subordinate's hesitance to divulge pertinent information. It wasn't like Haylen to subvert his authority, and the fact that it involved the strange woman who had waltzed into Cambridge full of contradictions and mystery only compounded his frustration.
"I found some things in her possession..." Haylen finally replied, "Some pre-war military dogtags of a 'Captain J Smith' and a pocket knife. The knife had an engraving on it. 'Officer E. Smith'... Sir, I think she might be a remaining member of the Enclave. I remember their squad leaders were called officers."
Danse felt his stomach drop at the mention of the Enclave. It had been decades since the Brotherhood had to deal with any remaining Enclave members, but it did seemed to fit with some of his observations of the woman.
The Enclave had formed from the remainder of the United States federal government and military personnel. It made sense that the woman could be a descendant from one of the original members if she had possession of pre-war dogtags with a surname that match the name engraved on the knife. Her tactical experience, quick thinking, and near imperceptible stress in the face of conflict would also give credence to the theory. Plus that Latin saying she spouted out at the drop of a hat.
'De oppresso liber' Did it really mean what she had said? The freedom of the oppressed?
Had he been so foolish to let an Enclave officer into their base? The thought filled him with anxiety, he shot a quick glance toward Rhys as the knight turned over in his sleep with a quiet groan.
But if Nora was a member of the Enclave how did she not know what caps were? Or ghouls?
Danse nodded, looking back to where Haylen was standing behind the desk, still staring at him.
"Scribe, until we get this sorted out, I trust you use your discretion and keep this between us for the time being. The last thing we need right now is for Rhys to confront her on the matter." He stopped, looking back toward where the holding cells were. "Until then, have all her weapons been removed from the cell?"
"Negative, sir. I'll collect them now." She answered, grabbing a cardboard box from the floor.
"Just for safe keeping, Haylen." He reminded her. "We owe her our lives, despite where she may or may not have come from. The Brotherhood doesn't take prisoners. However, until she wakes up, I don't want her to be left alone. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Haylen replied, turning back toward the holding cells. Danse watched her as she left, his thoughts spiraling out of control.
Despite the revelations from Haylen, Nora being a member of the Enclave was one possible explanation of some of the facts, but it didn't account for why she would rush in to help them without regard for herself. The conflict between the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave was well known by every resident of the Capitol Wasteland.
What motivation could she possibly have to offer her assistance to the Brotherhood if that was the case? Was she trying to infiltrate them?
Her confusion when asking about the Brotherhood of Steel seemed genuine, and while he was aware that she could have been manipulating him by playing coy, he couldn't bring himself to believe she had been working with the Enclave. Still, the discovery left more questions than answers, and he wasn't going to solve the mystery of Nora until she woke up.
However, there was one thing he could look into. Danse started off toward his sleeping area, trying desperately to remember where he had put that book...
Nora could feel herself drifting into consciousness, her sleep had fortunately been peaceful, a welcome reprieve after her earlier nightmare. She was trying to gather her bearings and force herself to open her eyes when she heard footsteps approaching.
"How you feeling, big guy?" A soft, female voice asked. Haylen, she reminded herself.
"Those ferals only scratched me... I'll be fine." The gruff male voice answered, an amused tone in his voice. Rhys. Nora realized she must be in the police station and tried to search her memories for the events of the previous night.
"Oh yeah? Is that why you were whining like a baby when I patched you up?" Haylen teased back, the flirtatious tone hard to miss, even in Nora's sleep addled brain.
"You must have me confused with someone else." Nora heard the reply as she tried to sit up, a sudden pain in her shoulder halting her movements as she winced aloud. The conversation suddenly stopped and she heard soft footfalls approach.
She forced her eyes open just in time to see Haylen push back a sheet covering the entrance to... a jail cell? She blinked a few more times revealing in the irony, her hand holding her side where she had been bandaged up as she tried to observe her surroundings. The cell had been converted into some sort of room, the small bed, an old metal chair, and a side table the only furniture inside. A sheet had been hung over the bars, blocking her from seeing outside the cell.
"Haylen..." She began, looking up to the woman from where she said on the bed. "Is there a reason I'm in a jail cell?"
"Well..." The scribe replied, nervously looking back and forth from her to the door. Haylen's unease wasn't lost on Nora, who narrowed her eyes in thought.
"Haylen, take a deep breath, okay?" She reassured, the other woman's anxiety inspiring her own. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"
"Nothing, it's just..." Haylen paused, looking up to meet her eyes. "We brought you back her to give you some privacy while I treated your wounds. It seemed more decent than undressing you in the lobby."
Nora looked down to herself, realizing for the first time that her Vault suit was pulled down to her hips, leaving her partially exposed in just her bra. She noticed her side and shoulder were now covered in fresh, thick bandages.
"Ah, thanks. Don't need to be giving the boys a free peep show, eh?" She joked and looked up at Haylen who still bore a worried expression. "But seriously, Haylen. I appreciate it, and I appreciate you looking after me. You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Oh." Haylen's expression softened and she moved to sit at the edge of the bed, eyes scanning Nora's face. "Of course I did. You helped us out with those ferals, and getting that transmitter makes you good in my book...What happened out there?"
Nora looked down to where Haylen was staring directly at her shoulder. "Danse didn't tell you?"
"No, after you collapsed, we moved you in here and I told them to get out and let me work." She answered with a sly smile.
"Oh Haylen, I'm liking you more and more." Nora replied with a laugh. The movement sent a shot of pain through her side and she tried to hide her wince. When she looked back toward the scribe, she saw it hadn't gone unnoticed. Waving her hand, she continued "I'm fine, just a little sore, don't worry about me. As for the cool laser burn? I got distracted and let a synth get the drop on me. Didn't even see it until it was too late."
"Humility doesn't suit you, Nora." Danse answered from the hallway, waiting respectfully outside the entrance of the holding cells. "Is it, uh, decent for me to come in?"
"Just a second, sir." Haylen answered, as she moved to where a pile of clothing had been situated next to the nightstand, handing Nora a white tank top which she put on, albeit not without a few muttered curse words and a bit of a struggle. She moved to tie the sleeves of the Vault suit around her waist before nodding to Haylen. "Its all clear, sir. You can come in."
Danse entered the room, his gaze flicking briefly to Nora before looking back to the scribe. "We're good here, Haylen. Thank you."
It was weird to see Danse out of his armor, Nora thought, analyzing the paladin carefully. Despite the lack of Power Armor, Danse was still a fairly tall man, his broad shoulders and muscular build made him almost as imposing as he was in the armor.
With a nod Haylen scurried out of the room, but not before shooting Nora a sympathetic glance. Danse moved to sit in the chair, crossing his arms and fixing his gaze on her. She tried to read his serious expression, but his face was virtually free of any emotion save for the slight wrinkle in between his eyebrows.
"Damn, who died?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, the joke missed it's mark and Danse just frowned at her.
"No one died, despite your blatant lack of self preservation." He answered seriously, a hint of anger hidden behind his dark brown eyes. "Though, based on Scribe Haylen's description of your injuries, you came close."
She frowned, shaking her head at the accusation. "I'm fine, Danse. As for the comment about a lack of self preservation, I'm pretty sure you should be thanking me for that."
He flinched at her retort, shooting his eyes toward her shoulder then back to meet her own stare; she could see him clench his jaw briefly before answering. "You're right. I owe you an insurmountable amount of gratitude for your selflessness. Ever since you got here you've been willing to come to the Brotherhood's defense at every turn and what you did with the synth was no different. I have no doubt that had you not jumped into the line of fire, I would be dead."
"That's a really roundabout way to say 'Thank you', but I'll take it." She smarted back, rolling her eyes at the pretentious attempt of appreciation.
"Thank you, Nora." He dryly, his face still turned into a frown.
"You're welcome, Paladin. I'd do it again if I had to," She replied, trying to do anything to lighten the awkward tension in the room. "But I'd appreciate you not making a habit out of almost dying and me having to save you. I only got two shoulders, you know."
Danse showed no reaction to her comment and she groaned internally to herself. She idly thought that someone needed to teach the Brotherhood of Steel-Pole-Up-Their-Asses a little bit about comedy. Danse looked to the floor, his face contorted back into his serious, cold expression but he did not answer. Nora could feel herself beginning to get uncomfortable in the extensive silence, shifting on the bed with a quiet groan.
"Who are you really?" Danse spat out. The harshness in his tone caused Nora to look up, feeling suddenly like she was a kid again and she had just been sent to the principles office.
"I told you, my name is Nora-"
"I recall everything you told me, but much of what you claim doesn't quite add up." He answered, looking up to stare at her again. She sighed, fiddling with the chain around her neck nervously. "So, who are you really? Are you with the Enclave?"
"The who?" She demanded, thrown by the sudden hostility.
"Please play coy with me, Nora. Just." Danse sighed, holding the bridge of his nose to take a deep breath before continuing. "Please just be honest with me."
"I don't know who or what the Enclave is. My name is Nora. I came from Vault 111." She paused, trying to gauge how much she could trust telling him. "I'm trying to get to Diamond City and - And I came when I heard the radio broadcast because I wasn't about to let anyone attack the police station."
"Why?" The question surprised her. She thought Danse would ask her more about the Vault, given his previous reaction to her mention of it.
"It... It's important to me." She mumbled, hands tugging at the torn fabric of her Vault suit.
"Why?" Danse asked, softer this time. She tried to shrug, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she kept her gaze fixed on the thread she was picking.
"I hoped there would still be some officers here... It was stupid." She tried to discreetly wipe away the tears, but Danse noticed immediately. His expression softened and he relaxed slightly, though confusion replaced the scowl on his face.
"There haven't been officers here since before the war." He replied, answering the question she didn't realize she'd been wanting to ask. She nodded, the tears now flowing quietly down her face. "Why... Why did you think there would be officers here?"
She let out a sad laugh, finally looking up at Danse as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I guess I knew it wasn't possible, but... I heard a call for help at the police station and I had to find out for myself."
"You have dogtags around your neck, right?" He pointed toward the chain around her neck.
"If you're asking that question, you already know the answer." She replied carefully, trying to keep the annoyance out of voice, relieved she was able to reign in her tears. "Do you go through everyone's belongings or only the people who save your life?"
"I didn't go through anything." He answered, his irritation rising to match her own. There was a small part of her that was pleased to see Danse get annoyed at her sardonic response. She was glad she could aggravate him the same way he'd kept irritating her off with his incessant questions. "Haylen noticed them when she was treating your wounds. Along with the knife you had on your person."
Nora felt the Vault suit, trying to find the pocket knife she normally had clipped to the collar of her suit. After failing to locate the blade, she stood suddenly and stomped over to where Danse was seated, ignoring the sear of pain at the movement.
"Where the fuck is it, you son of a bitch?" She spat out, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. The rise of anger just below the surface was begging to overflow, and so help her God if it did because she knew if she lunged at the man in front of her she would only end up injuring herself. Danse raised his eyebrow at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was amused by the thought of her trying to best him in combat.
Danse extended his hand, revealing the small, black pocket knife he'd been apparently holding since he entered the room. She moved to grab it from him, but he was much quicker and closed his hand around it again, bringing it back as he recrossed his arms, mirroring her own gesture of defiance.
"Officer E Smith." He stated, clearly having regained control of his earlier irritation. She could feel heat rise to her cheeks at the name as she glared down at him. "Are you going to sit back down or continue glowering... Officer?"
She winced like she'd been slapped at the mention of her former title, hurt crossing her eyes as she continued staring at Danse, but did not offer a reply.
"I see that title struck a chord with you. So I'm going to ask you again, who are you really?." He pressed, clearly having had noticed her expression.
Nora turned to sit back down on the bed, once again playing with the chain around her neck before answering. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I wouldn't be so quick to pass judgment if I were you. I appreciate that you expect a certain level of privacy, but as it stands, what it looks like is you're a former member of the Enclave attempting to infiltrate the Brotherhood." He paused, trying to detect a change in her expression at the allegation, but all he saw was confusion. "I have a responsibility to my men and the Brotherhood to determine the exact nature of your presence here. Especially considering the irregularities in your statements... I meant what I said before. I have no doubt that you can be successful if you want to continue working along side us, but I need to know I can trust you."
"What makes you think I want to work with you?" She snapped in response.
"At first I couldn't ascertain why you were so eager to not only assist in dispensing of the ferals out front, but with the recovery mission at ArcJet as well. You didn't ask for money, quite the opposite in fact. You took the lead, walking straight toward our destination without prompting. You offered your supplies and when I mentioned compensating you accordingly with a sufficient amount of caps, you were confused." He paused, watching Nora as she turned to fix her gaze on him. He could see a fire burning behind her eyes at his deductions, indicating he was on the right track. "You behave almost like a soldier, but you were more than content to express sympathy and selflessness. You assimilated to the mission and situation with ease, like you were familiar with being a part of a team and throwing yourself into danger. Whoever you really are and where you come from, you clearly have a desire to be part of something similar."
She didn't answer immediately, weighing her options. It was embarrassing to be so thoroughly dissected and addressed so bluntly, but despite her initial irritation, the words rang true. Even before the bombs had dropped, she had the burning desire to be back in the field, to feel like she had a purpose again. To have that yearning so blatantly discussed felt like a punch to the stomache.
Nora knew she needed to get to Diamond City, sooner rather than later, and while she was free to head out on her own, it would be reassuring to know she had a team behind her should she need help getting Shaun back.
"My name is Eleanora Ilda Hartt, formerly Eleanora Ilda Smith. I was born in 2049 and served as a police officer in a little town a few hours south of Boston before the bombs fell. I was cryogenically frozen in Vault 111 with my family. I woke up once during that time frame, just long enough to see some ugly bastard shoot my husband and kidnap my son. I have no idea how long ago he was kidnapped... I only woke up about a week and half ago." She paused, forcing herself to keep talking in hopes that it would prevent the sob creeping up her throat from breaking free. "I have no idea what the fuck to do out here, the bugs are bigger than my head, I just want to get to Diamond City and see if someone, anyone, has information that could help me find my son. I... I helped you guys because you reminded me of my old squad and I took at oath to protect and serve the citizens of this country. But while I do feel a certain kinship with what you guys represent, my absolute priority is to find my son."
She let out a long breath, further repressing the emotion begging to break free. After a few moments, she composed herself completely, the redness of her cheeks and eyes the only indication she had been crying moments before.
Danse was quiet for a long time after she finished, his thoughts trying to line up his previous observations with the new information she had provided. He knew that Vault-Tec had conducted some sadistic and highly unethical experiments in the past so the story was plausible at the very least, but this was beyond anything he'd ever heard of. The woman in front of him didn't look a day over 25, but that only further gave credence to her claims. In the wasteland people who got to be in their late twenties, like she claimed to be, looked much worse for wear. The hours in the sun, the constant radiation storms, and frequent encounters with the extensive and terrifying wildlife, not to mention the ever looming threat of Raiders, usually marred wastelanders with a variety of scars and damage. The woman before him looked nothing like any wastelander he'd ever seen, instead emulating a beauty he'd only seen in pre-war magazines and a politeness that was absolutely foreign in wasteland.
He realized in an instant that he believed her completely, but more than that, that he desperately wanted to help her. The thought terrified him. It was the first time in over a decade that he thought of anything outside the Brotherhood and his place within the organization.
"I believe you." He stated finally, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks and he was instantly grateful for the scruff that covered a majority of his face due to too many days without a razor. "The Brotherhood can help you, you know... You'd have access to advanced technology, weapons, and armor. Though, there would be the expectation of cooperation and compliance with our mission."
Of all the things she'd been expecting to come out of Danse's mouth, that certainly wasn't it. Had he really implied she join the Brotherhood to further her own motives? Or was he simply telling her what he thought she'd want to hear to get her on their side?
Before she had time to ask, she heard a loud banging echo from the front of the police station along with muffled voices. She moved to stand, inhaling at the sudden pain radiating from both sides of her body. Danse moved to help her as she bent forward, but she righted herself up and began walking toward the lobby.
The voices got louder as she approached, a familiar one standing out to her ears and filling her with a profound sense of relief.
"Listen, sir, I know she's in here. Dogmeat led me right to this place, so I kindly recommend you allow me to speak with her. I have been polite, I already told you who I was and -"
"Preston!" She hollered happily, moving toward the door Rhys was currently standing in front of, his laser rifle in hand. The man shot her a glare that could freeze hell, but she pushed passed him, hobbling to unlock the door and open it for her friend.
In a matter of seconds, Dogmeat had jumped onto her, knocking her to the ground with a not so dignified "Motherfucker!" spilling from her mouth as she hit the floor. Despite the outburst, Dogmeat began licking her face happily.
Had it not been for Preston pulling him off of her, she was sure he would have stayed laid out on top of her for the rest of the day. She tried to sit up and grabbed at the wound in her side, unable to right herself as Preston kept hold of a very miserable-looking Dogmeat in the corner.
She looked up to see a hand in front of her face with a very annoyed Rhys at the end of it. Offering a humble smile in response, she took the hand as he lifted her back to her feet, quickly catching her before she could stumble and end up on the ground again.
"I'm good now, Rhys..." She paused, mustering all the humility she could find before turning to him, though it pained her to do so. "Thank you, and uh, sorry about before."
Rhys scoffed and walked away, shooting Danse an exasperated look from where he stood in the middle of the lobby, leaving her to wobble over to the group of chairs right inside the lobby. She flopped herself into the closest chair, any semblance of grace notably absent and looked toward Preston who had finally gotten Dogmeat to calm down.
"So what, did you miss me or something Garvey?" She joked, the man's nervous expression turning to relief at her humor. He walked over to sit across from her shaking his head.
"I thought we talked about you calling me by last name." He offered back, and amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"Sorry Preston, old habits die hard. If two century as an icicle didn't break the habit, I doubt you can." She retorted with a laugh as Preston placed raised his eyebrow to her.