Chapter Eleven: Mine is in the box
Glass glittered amongst the litter like fallen stars as the Paladin's headlamp scoured the floor of the alley, searching for any sign that either the Scribe or Squire had passed that way. The dark of night was closing in and soon he would be forced to call the search off until morning. As loathe as he was to leave the trail, he could not risk losing another soldier under his command. Searching in the dark would be tactically dangerous, leaving himself and Rhys vulnerable to ambush. The relative quiet of the area already had him on edge.
All they had encountered so far were radroaches and mange ridden hounds. There had been a few corpses of ferals rotting in a couple of alleyways, somebody having already taken care of them. This area seems hazardous for the abominations. He reflected, thinking back to the carnage he and his Knights had stumbled across during their earlier training exercise.
What if Haylen or Burke were attacked by Gunners, too?
He recalled the glacial eyes that had studied him above a lazy, crooked smile, and scowled. That man had been bothering Nora and Burke. What if he had an ulterior motive in saving Nora? Deacon said he was a slaver... Danse felt his blood begin to boil at the mere thought of it. Slavery was an evil that needed to be purged just as much as the Institute. The mere thought of it sickened him. Had anyone forced a chain around the throat of his brothers or sisters, there would be hell to pay.
He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of a dog barking, followed by gunshots and laser fire. He spun on his heel, charging back into the street and turning towards the sounds. Further along the road, an alleyway was illuminated by a flash of scarlet light.
"Sir! Is it Haylen?" He glanced through his visor to where Rhys was racing from the ruined doorway of a house, his rifle at the ready and expression hard.
"I don't know, but we're about to find out. Stick close to me and no heroics." Danse commanded, setting off at a sprint, the Knight following in his wake. As they drew closer to the alleyway, they began to hear familiar squeaks, squeals and snarls. Mole rats.
Danse almost stepped on one the moment he set foot in the alley, which was little more than a river of filth running between two buildings. Litter and scrap covered a layer of muck so deep it rose slightly above the street level and scampering atop of it were dozens of the rodents, gnashing their oversized teeth. He opened fire, his shots finding the ugly, hissing targets with precision.
Further down the alleyway, he was aware of two people and a large dog standing back to back, firing on the creatures whilst the dog savaged anything that drew too close. "Sir! That's Haylen!" Rhys barked beside him as he opened fire.
"Then we'll cut ourselves a path!" Danse snarled, stamping on a creature that had been charging towards them. They made fast progress, advancing along the alleyway as the creatures fell. It was a waste of precious ammo, but neither he nor Rhys were willing to take any chances where the Scribe was concerned. By the time the last mole rat had burrowed into hiding, they were mere feet from Haylen and the stranger, the large dog crouched between them, her ears flat and lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
The man beside Haylen whistled softly, prompting the dog to look at him. As he gestured for the animal to heel, a relieved looking Haylen holstered her pistol and walked towards them with a slight limp. "Danse! Rhys! You've got some good timing." She halted in front of them and saluted.
"What's your status Haylen?" Danse scowled from behind his visor, taking in the torn and bloodied state of her uniform. "Those don't look like mole rat bites."
"They're not, sir." Haylen sighed, her face falling as she glanced at the floor. "I was looking for the Squire when I was overwhelmed by ferals."
"Dammit Haylen. Why did you go by yourself?!" Rhys demanded furiously, glowering at her. "The whole reason I'm with you is to make sure you're safe!"
"I'm fine Rhys! Nothing a few stitches and stimpaks won't fix!" The Scribe frowned in response, stubbornly folding her arms.
"You'll be wanting rad-away too. You're starting to show signs of radiation poisoning." Rhys jumped slightly at the sound of the deep drawling voice, his rifle already cocked towards the man who had been standing beside Haylen.
Danse's glare intensified from behind his visor as the Gunner stepped into view, his assault rifle slung back over his shoulder and the large dog walking at his heels. He blinked from beneath the brim of his hat as the Paladin turned the lamplight upon him.
"What are you doing here, Gunner?" He demanded frostily, refusing to lower his rifle.
The man drew his hat further over his eyes, smirking whilst the dog beside him began to growl ominously. "I'm guessing that you're the Paladin I met yesterday."
"Answer my question." Danse's voice was dangerously quiet.
"Sir, this man saved my life." Haylen interjected, peering anxiously through the visor. "We were traveling back to Bunker Hill when we walked into the mole rat nest... I don't suppose the Squire was back at the settlement, was he?" She added, her voice full of concern.
"Negative, though with any luck, he will have returned or Hart will have dug up a lead. First thing's first, we need to get you to a doctor, get the rads flushed out of your system and those wounds looked at. Then I will be very interested to hear your full report." Danse said firmly, noting the fine sheen of sweat that was breaking on the Scribe's skin. Haylen nodded, quickly averting her gaze as her shoulders slumped. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the Gunner who was checking over the dog.
"Do you have a name, merc?" He grunted, prompting the man to glance back up at him, his gaze piercing and sharp. The man grinned crookedly and Danse was reminded of a leering deathclaw.
"Sergeant Sparkes of the Gunners, at your service." He straightened up, tapping his fingers to the brim of his hat. "But Sparkes will do, Paladin."
"If you wish, you may accompany us back to Bunker Hill." Danse said stiffly.
"What? That all the compensation you're going to give me for saving her life?" Sparkes smirked, reaching down to lightly scratch his dog behind the ear.
"Damn mercenary." Rhys muttered contemptuously, glowering at him.
Sparkes cast the Knight an appraising look. "And what?"
"If you would rather travel alone, you're perfectly free to do so." Danse cut in sharply, before Rhys had time to react. "Either way, we're leaving right now. Haylen, fall in line. Let's move out." Without another word, Danse turned, striding out of the alleyway. Rhys gestured for Haylen to move ahead of him where he could keep an eye on her. As Sparkes and his dog made to follow the Scribe, Rhys seized the man's shoulder.
"Don't think we don't know your business, slaver. I'll be watching you. One false move and you'll be ashes." The dog at Sparkes' heels began to snarl and snapped at Rhys' leg. The Knight made as though to aim at the dog, only for Sparkes to shove the rifle aside and step up into his face, nose inches from his.
"You're not the only one who's watching." Sparkes said quietly, his gaze unflinching.
"What is going on back there?" Danse barked, the glare of his headlamp falling upon them once more.
Sparkes stepped back, his dog moving with him, the crooked smile back on his lips. "Just a friendly conversation." He drawled, casually stepping over the mole rat remains.
Rhys glared at the man's back with utter contempt, before glancing at the Paladin and nodding stiffly. Danse knew his soldiers well enough to interpret what went unsaid. His jaw squared inside his helmet and as they began the journey back towards Bunker Hill, he kept an eye on the Gunner at all times.
"Deacon, I've found another one!" Nora called, trailing her fingertips over the rail sign. As her fellow agent slipped up to her side and peered at the arrow, Nora glanced down the alleyway it indicated. It appeared to be a dead end, except for a fire escape leading up the side of one of the buildings. She groaned, running her fingers through her hair, loosening the bun she had fastened it into. "How much longer will this trail go on for?"
"Hard to say." Deacon sighed, glancing up at the night sky between the buildings. "This treasure hunt was fun at first, but we've been following this trail for hours. Stockton must be really, really pissed at you."
"God, Danse is going to be pissed if he gets back and finds I've disappeared again. But if we can bring Burke back safe, it'll be worth it." She said firmly, flicking on the green torchlight of her Pip-Boy and scanning the alleyway ahead of them. Unable to find anything threatening, she began to advance towards the fire escape. The metal stairs clanged with each step, the sound travelling through the quiet of the night.
"Can't you move a little more quietly? You're walking like you're still in power armour!" Deacon complained, following her with a lighter step.
"Sorry. I guess I'm still in Knight mode." Nora replied sheepishly, making a conscious effort to move more quietly. They ascended quickly, finally arriving at the rooftop. A few stray hairs whipped at Nora's neck and face and she grew irritated, wrenching her hair free of the bobby pins and hairband. The only way forwards was across some planks set across an alleyway. "This is getting ridiculous." She muttered, sweeping up her hair to tie it back in a ponytail. "We've got to get the Squire back through the city, too. Didn't they think about that?"
"Well, this is what happens when you piss off the Bunker Hill guys, I guess." Deacon shrugged, keeping his hand firmly on his hat to prevent it from blowing away. He turned around to take in the view of Bunker Hill, a distant, shining beacon in the dark. When he turned around again, it was to find Nora was already crossing the planks, holding her arms out for balance. "Charmer slow down! That's a long way to fall and I do not want to be the one who has to explain this mess to Danse or Preston!" To his relief, Nora reached the other side without incident. Then he cussed, knowing he had to follow. Reluctantly, he shoved his hat into his jacket pocket and followed, the wind numbing his head with the biting cold.
She waited for him on the other side, illuminating his path with her torch. Almost as soon as he reached her, she moved to where a door led into a stairwell. A lone oil lantern was set on a chair on the landing below, another rail sign chalked on the wall above it. She didn't hesitate to slip down the stairs, ignoring the fact that her Pip-Boy torch would likely alert anything down there to her presence.
"Boss, take it easy. We don't know what's down there!" Deacon whispered behind her.
"It's another arrow, not a cross." Nora whispered back, turning to glare over her shoulder at him.
"That doesn't matter. We're on unfamiliar ground and the Commonwealth is dangerous at the best of times." Deacon's sunglasses flashed in the light of her Pip-Boy and he winced as though it had hurt his eyes. His expression was unusually serious. Nora sighed heavily, turning the lamp towards the stairs that led further into the bowels of the building.
"Fine. I'll try to be more cautious." True to her word, she moved slowly, keeping her footsteps light, like she'd learned from him in the early days. As they descended the stairwell, they began to hear a strangely muffled sound. When it finally became audible enough to be identified as quiet sobs, Nora froze, listening with her head cocked. Burke. It has to be.
Suddenly she was flying down the steps, taking them three, four at a time, ignoring the dull aching of her bad leg and Deacon's hiss for her to take it slower. The green lamplight bounced wildly across the peeling walls as she moved, sending shadows leaping all over the place. Before she knew it, she was at the bottom of the stairwell and racing through an open doorway, into a room illuminated by several more oil lamps.
A number of large wooden crates were piled around the room and there, seated on a mouldering couch was old man Stockton, one hand resting on his knee, the other atop his walking stick. His piercing blue gaze stopped her in place. Two heavies seemed to melt from the shadows, wearing their ballistic fibre coats, weapons holstered but clearly visible. She could still hear the boy's sobbing and began to scan the room with her eyes, seeking any sign of him.
"Where is he?" She demanded, her voice raw and angry.
"Not so fast." Stockton said calmly, keeping his voice even despite the angry fire in his eyes. "We need to talk first, if you want the boy back."
Nora's hands balled into fists and her lips thinned, but she nodded once. "So talk."
"That boy is now a threat to Railroad security." Stockton began, studying her face intently. "I don't know how he came to be in my safe house, but he got in. A member of the Brotherhood of Steel. Had he been even a few years older, he would have been killed."
Nora swallowed, her nostrils flaring, but she said nothing, her jaw clenched shut. The sobbing had given away to quiet sniffles and she could imagine the Squire was listening.
"Tell me." Stockton said quietly. "You want the boy back. But how can I trust that he won't give us away?"
"He won't tell anyone. He's under my care, I can keep an eye on him." Nora promised, though she could already see that Stockton was unconvinced.
"See, he's not just in your care, is he? Or I might feel better about the whole thing." Stockton frowned. "There's that Paladin who's travelling with you, the one who brought the boy to Bunker Hill in the first place. I've spoken to him. He's as Brotherhood devout as they come. Then there's the matter of the two other Brotherhood soldiers who joined you." Stockton began to tap his stick on the ancient floorboards. "You can't be over his shoulder all the time. Yet he will always be surrounded by Brotherhood personnel, will he not?
"All it would take would be for a few words to be whispered in the wrong ears. Tell me, why should I risk the safety of the synths, the agents and the people of Bunker Hill, for the freedom of a single child?"
Nora's mind went into overdrive, trying to develop a coherent argument. She was sweating, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. "What would you do with him, to keep him from speaking?" She managed to force the words from between her teeth, trying to control the way her entire body was shaking. She was scared, feeling sick to her stomach. I won't lose another child. I can't lose another child.
"I'd have to send him away, I suppose. Somewhere out of the Brotherhood's reach, where he could be watched."
"You're sounding no better than the Institute." The words escaped her lips before she could stop them and the coolness in the room dropped to sub-zero. "You'd take the boy away from the only family he's got left, the only stability he's known-"
A hand grasped her arm and squeezed. She turned sharply to find Deacon at her side. His expression was unreadable and he gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
"How. Dare you." Stockton spat, the two Railroad heavies glowering at her. "I have sacrificed much to oversee the rescuing of synths from the Institute! I have dedicated my life to the cause and I have paid dearly for the pleasure! Don't you dare compare me to the Institute!
"I am no more willing to risk the safety of my people than you seem willing to lose the boy! Tell me, Charmer, just how loyal are you to our cause that you would risk it over some child's happiness? I have many lives on the line here, many people I must protect, including those who have yet to receive my aid. Tell me how the happiness of this one boy weighs against those lives?"
Nora closed her eyes, drinking in deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Think damn it!
The silence seemed to stretch an eternity. She couldn't come up with a convincing argument, her mind flooded by thoughts of what would happen if she lost him. Danse's horror and pain at having failed to protect him. Haylen's guilt at having lost him. The weight of guilt that would settle upon Kells' shoulders. The wrath of the Elder… The wrath of the Elder…
"It would seem we've wasted our time." Stockton said coldly, making to rise from his chair.
"Hold on one moment, Stockton." Deacon began, turning to face him when Nora suddenly straightened up, her eyes snapping open, filled with a steely resolve.
"You already know I'm the only agent in the Railroad to have successfully infiltrated the Brotherhood." She said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back as she might aboard the Prydwen in the presence of superiors. "I have met with every senior member of staff aboard the Prydwen. From Paladins to Proctors… to Elder Maxson himself. I know all about the Brotherhood teachings. I can recite the tenets from memory. Which is why I can say with absolute certainty that if the Squire is not returned to my custody, you will bring great scrutiny upon Bunker Hill and all of your operations will be ground to a halt."
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that the Brotherhood of Steel would waste precious resources hunting for a lone child?" Stockton demanded, his knuckles turning bone white.
"I guarantee it." Nora said quietly. "They are sparing myself and the Elder's right hand Paladin to assist in the training of this Squire. What makes you think they wouldn't spare other resources? What makes you think that the Paladin wouldn't kick down every single door in Bunker Hill to find him? If I don't return with the Squire soon, I don't doubt that he will do just that. And if anything happened to him… Let's just say Elder Maxson would feel an example would need to be made."
She let her words hang in the air between them, watching as Stockton worked his jaw, studying her thoughtfully.
"If you release the Squire back into my custody, I promise you, I can ensure his silence, or that his word is discredited. I can protect the Railroad and Bunker Hill if you hand him over to me. Any other option will lead to blood and war."
"Her codename's Charmer for a reason, Stockton." Deacon added quietly. "She's never let us down before. What do you say we show her some faith?"
"…I just pray that you're right." Stockton grumbled, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily through his nose. "I don't need these troubles on top of the rest." When he opened his eyes again, he rose from the couch and nodded to one of the heavies who moved to unlock a storeroom door. "I want the boy out of Bunker Hill as soon as possible." Stockton said coldly. "If I feel at any point that my safe house is threatened again though, I will take drastic measures. Am I clear?"
Nora nodded stiffly. "Understood. Thank you, Stockton. I won't let you down."
"Hmph. I'll be notifying HQ of this." He muttered, adjusting his hat on his head. "Remember. We've never had this conversation. Safe journey back to the Hill." He tipped his hat to them before making his way between the towers of crates, the heavies giving her one last glacial look before following him.
For a few moments Nora remained rooted to the spot, hands still clasped respectfully at her back. Then all at once she was charging towards the store room door and wrenching it open, Deacon following slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Burke?! Burke where are you?!" She demanded, her voice nearly hysterical.
There came a thumping and muffled wail from inside a large crate that someone had chalked the cache rail sign on. A padlock held chains in place to keep it shut. Fingers poked out from holes that had been drilled in to give the boy air to breathe.
Nora didn't waste any time, dropping to a crouch beside the lock and withdrawing a bobby pin and small screwdriver she always kept on her person. In a matter of moments, she had the padlock open and was removing the chains. She wrenched the lid off and stared down into the crate, her legs shaking.
Burke eased himself slowly to his feet, his face swollen and puffy from crying, though he had clearly made an effort to wipe away the tear tracks. He pulled himself stiffly over the side of the crate, wincing as his legs cramped painfully from the hours he had spent in the box. Nora remained standing, leaning on the crate, her head bowed. Burke tried to look at her, but when he heard the drumming of tears against the wood, he found himself scanning the shelves behind her instead.
"I'm sorry." He finally managed, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. Nora turned to face him, swaying on her feet. Burke hung his head, waiting for the lecture or the threats that he knew he deserved…
But they never came, because Nora crouched down and hugged him fiercely instead.
A/N: And so the teams are reunited, if still divided!
Thank you to everyone who's still reading & has been following the story! I really appreciate it & am really grateful for your support & reviews!
I just wanted to say that having read back through some of the previous chapters & considered Burke's behaviour/interactions, it'd probably be more appropriate for him to be aged between 11/12 rather than the 13 I mentioned in a previous A.N. (I'm terrible for predicting ages! Sorry for any confusion!) But overall let's just say he's however old your perceive him to be from his actions/personality. Burke's still Burke, numbers aside!