Danse knew he was home.

He could hear the low hum of the Prydwen's engines, a song as soothing as any lullaby. Voices murmured softly nearby, occasionally interspersed by a pained groan or whimper. Those sounds, accompanied by the scents of blood and antiseptic, allowed him to deduce that he was in the med-bay.

Why am I in the med-bay…?

His thoughts were swimming in clouds, disjointed and opaque. His body felt heavy and it was only with monumental effort that he was able to open his eyes. At first everything was blurred, and he had to blink to clear his vision, but soon enough the familiar steel walls of the med-bay came into focus, along with white partitions that granted him privacy from the other patients.

He was sitting upright, his back propped against a small mountain of pillows. He was bare chested, an I.V. drip attached to his arm and his skin mottled with bruises. There were numerous angry welts where stimpaks had been used to seal shallow wounds, and he knew just by looking at them that he should be hurting a lot more than he was.

Cade must have given me med-X.

He felt a flicker of irritation at the thought and sucked in a deep breath - only for sharp pain to lance through his ribs. He hissed, his eyes watering.

He heard footsteps and glanced up as Knight-Captain Cade rounded the partitions. His face was pale and his eyes ringed with shadows, but he smiled at Danse all the same.

"Glad to see you're finally awake, soldier," he greeted, stepping up to the bedside. "You had us worried when we had to peel you out of your power armour. How are you feeling?"

"Rough," Danse whispered, his throat too raw to speak any louder. He could feel a growing pressure behind his eyes and his ribs hurt with every breath. He didn't want to think how it would feel when the med-X faded away completely.

"Do you remember what happened?" Cade asked, looking him over with a critical eye.

Danse's brow furrowed as he tried to think, narrowing his eyes.

They flew wide as ice flooded his veins.

He tried to get up, his hands shoving the blankets away but pain flared all over his body, most intensely in his ribs. He gasped and sank back against the pillows, Cade's hands gently but firmly gripping his shoulders.

"Easy, Danse." The Knight-Captain frowned. "You're in no fit state to be on your feet yet."

"Hart… Burke… Are they aboard?" Danse rasped, one hand gripping Cade's arm.

His heart sank at the expression that flickered across the Knight-Captain's face. "I'm afraid not," Cade said gently. "But Lancer-Captain Kells has alerted the patrols in Boston to keep an eye out for them. Right now though, we need to focus on you."

As he spoke, Cade took a clipboard from a basket at the end of the bed. "Fortunately, your armour took the brunt of the damage, but you didn't escape completely unscathed…"

Cade's voice faded into the background as Danse's mind raced. They weren't aboard the ship. Hart and Burke were somewhere in the ruins, surrounded by hostiles or… or…

"...hear me? Danse. "

He blinked.

The rusted cages and pleading eyes vanished, replaced instead by Cade's warm grey stare. He inhaled as deeply as he could manage. The pain had him grinding his teeth, but it was deserved.

He was safe aboard the Prydwen, and they weren't. They were down there, surrounded by abominations… Goodneighbor.

He tried to sit up again, but Cade was ready and held him down.

"I need to speak to the Captain or the Elder," he insisted. "I know where they are!"

Where they have to be...

The walk back to his quarters was short but painful. Convincing Cade to discharge him had been easier than usual, what with the steady stream of casualties who needed the bed more than he did. The Knight-Captain had ordered him to rest in his quarters, promising that he'd send a scribe to check up on him in a few hours.

He stepped inside. When he hit the light switch, he found his quarters exactly how he had left them. His bed was made, workbench cleared and an unopened box of snack cakes sat on his desk beside the terminal, alongside a bottle of Gwinnett stout and the comic book he had borrowed from Nora.

He stared at it.

Live & Love .

The cover depicted two pre-war soldiers, one in power armour and one in fatigues who was pulling themselves up by the handles on the chest plate, planting a kiss on the other's lips. 'Romance in the Ranks : Love in times of war.'

He crossed the room and picked it up, wiping away the thin layer of dust that had accumulated. The comic was in unusually good condition; he didn't know where Nora acquired it, precisely, but beyond warped colours and a few rough edges, it had survived all these years. When Nora gave it to him, she'd mentioned it was one of her favourites.

That had made him more curious than he'd cared to admit.

It couldn't be for the comic's accuracy. The proportions of the power armour varied from exaggerated to minimised between panels and almost all were inaccurate. In addition, power armour suits were depicted to be much more flexible than was possible in reality.

When it came to the narrative itself, Danse could confidently say the writer had never served in any capacity. While the Brotherhood only took the best elements of the US Army to carry forward, he suspected they were similar enough that the numerous flagrant breaches of protocol would be punishable in the Army. The radio protocol was incorrect, to boot.

Even so. He'd turned the pages, wanting to learn what captivated Nora. She'd remarked on the cover, joking that his armour would make for an adequate pull up bar. It was unprofessional at best and dangerous at worst, but he could remember her sly smile as if she was right beside him-

Drawing in a sharp breath, Danse flipped through the pages to occupy his hands if not his mind. The comic fell open to the page he'd bookmarked. In truth, he was further along in the story, but he found himself returning to this individual page.

Despite the inconsistent art style, one of the characters reminded him of Nora. Physically, the resemblance was shallow: Her black hair fell loose around her shoulders, wilder than he'd ever seen Nora's, and her eyes were brown instead of blue. And yet there was something of his Nora in her playful smirk and the defiant tilt of her chin-

A flare of pain tightened his ribs.

She-

She'd-

She had to be in Goodneighbor with Burke. Danse hated the thought of them in that wretched hive of scum and villainy, surrounded by abominations, but it was the best of only bad options. Danse knew he should contemplate every possible outcome. But he wasn't going to give up on them. He didn't give up on anyone in his charge until-

"Cutter kill metal man!"

The memory stole what little breath remained in his lungs. Cutler's eyes still haunted him, inhumanly green and narrowed with rage. No longer his own. Around Danse, the Prydwen hummed through the bare walls of his quarters- home, he was home -but all he could see was the abomination that used to be Cutler swinging a sledge hammer at him.

His face ached and he realised he was clenching his jaw. His hands were clenched dangerously tight around the comic, crinkling the pages.

If Nora saw, her displeasure at such vandalism would rival the time Rhys spilled Nuka-Cola on her pack and soaked her supplies. Rhys had always proclaimed his innocence in the matter, though Hart had vehemently sworn his guilt.

Danse's ribs ached, each dull flare of pain in time with his heartbeat. With excess care, he returned the comic to the table and smoothed out the pages. It was harder than it should have been, and not because his hands were shaking.

Heat prickled in his eyes, and he swiped at the wet warmth. The movement jarred his ribs, sending a spike of pain through his side. Grunting, he reached out for the table's steady support as the world teetered dangerously.

Drawing in a careful breath, then another, Danse willed his eyes to stop watering. The muscles in his legs were starting to twitch, threatening to give out beneath him. The tabletop was cool and smooth under his palm, so he focused on that-

Something rapped on the door.

Danse jerked and hissed in pain. He needed another moment to compose himself before yanking open the door to find Brandis on the other side. Unexpected, but then he'd always had a fondness for Nora.

Brandis weaselled into Danse's quarters without invitation, taking a moment to survey the sparse decor. Then his sharp steel-grey gaze slid to Danse. "You should sit down before you fall down."

Now that Brandis brought it to his attention, the pain became more insistent, wearing at what little stamina he had left. He clenched his jaw against it. "I'm fine."

Brandis surveyed him with the same canny gaze he'd examined the room, and Danse felt strangely exposed. "You sit down and rest up, and you get a shot at the rescue team. Fall down and you'll be chained up in the infirmary until Cade's happy. And we both know he's never happy."

The logic was unassailable, but a part of Danse resisted the advice. If he couldn't even stand up, he was useless. Worse than useless.

Danse fell into his seat with far less grace than he'd intended, his legs aching from the strain and his ribs on fire. Brandis sat on the bed and waited for Danse to shuffle his seat around so they could face each other. In that, his injuries were almost a boon, giving him several seconds to prepare to face Brandis. Or attempt to, at least, when dread settled its leaden weight in his stomach and refused to be dislodged. Brandis had claimed Nora as one of his own, even if she never served under his command.

"Now." Brandis drew in a breath. His fingers twitched as he leaned forward on one elbow. "What the hell happened down there?"

Given Brandis's notoriety as a card shark, the tell was disturbing.

Danse drew in a breath. Carefully, this time. He owed Brandis nothing less than the truth. "I failed to keep Nora and Burke safe."

The words burned.

Brandis's jaw worked silently. Then he said, firm but not unkind, "Details, son."

Any other day, Danse would bristle at being called that by an equal. Today, he took some solace from it. If only for this moment, someone else was in control.

"We left Diamond City to find an appropriate landing zone for a vertibird, but the ruins were swarming with mutants. A behemoth pursued us back into the city. Several hives had congregated at Trinity Plaza and we were discovered when we attempted to skirt around them. I covered our retreat to buy Nora and Burke time. I- the last thing I remember is being struck by the behemoth-"

His power armour crunched, crumpling under the force then he was weightless, hurtling backwards as the behemoth leered down...

Something touched Danse's shoulder. He snapped to, finding Brandis gripping his shoulder.

"You're not there anymore," Brandis said. He gave it an extra moment, then let go. "Now, you don't know what happened to them after that?"

"Negative."

They could have made it to Goodneighbor. They could have been struck down by the behemoth. They could have retreated into yet another nest of mutants. Each thought burned him from the inside out, like coals against his skin.

From Brandis's expression, he was similarly preoccupied with his own thoughts. His gaze was fixed to the floor, dull and vacant. "Cade barred me from joining the search team, or I'd promise to find her."

Danse noticed Brandis's hands were trembling now.

"I appreciate it, Brandis." Drawing in an uneven breath, Danse pressed a hand to his side to quell the worsening pain in his ribs. "We have to place our faith in our brothers and sisters."

The words came out more begrudging than he intended. For Brandis's part, he made a noise that could have been agreement or scepticism.

There was nothing more to be said.

Only, the silence rang with accusation. Danse suspected Brandis could hear it too. When the silence became too loud, Brandis rose to his feet with a creaking knee.

He stood awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Rest up, Danse. We'll find answers."

It wasn't what Danse wanted to hear or what Brandis wanted to say, but Danse appreciated that Brandis didn't coddle him with false assurances.

When the door shut behind him, Danse was alone with his injuries. He stretched his legs, wincing at the stiffness.

The dark metal walls pressed down on him, while the distant hum of the engines threading through his bones reminded him that he was on the Prydwen. Safe. Useless.

Danse twisted to alleviate an ache in his lower back. When his gaze fell on his work terminal, he realised he hadn't yet filed a mission report. It wasn't how he wanted to make himself useful, but the more information the Brotherhood had, the higher the likelihood that they might yet prevail.

He began his report from when they first left the Prydwen, with as much detail as he could muster from his med-X-addled memory. It was a laborious process on the best days; now, his typing was slow and poor as he exorcised each memory one at a time to distill it into dry professionalism.

Whilst myself and Knight Hart were distracted, Squire Burke stole Knight Hart's fusion core-

Danse covered his face with a hand. After everything that had been through, everything Burke had been through, the theft of Nora's fusion core seemed an almost trivial detail. One that would besmirch his name nonetheless, or his memory.

Every name of every soldier he ever lost was carved behind his breastbone. He could recite the list in his sleep. The most recent to join them was Keane.

Nora and Burke weren't going on the list.

Now, he just needed a way to convince Elder Maxson he was fit for duty.

Returning to his report, Danse completed it with exacting precision. Excruciating precision. He retraced every step from Diamond City's gates, not only to recount every turn of the battle but to assess himself. If he'd made better decisions on the field, Nora and Burke would be safely aboard the Prydwen.

By the time Danse was finished, night had long since fallen and his entire body ached. The hollow spot behind his breastbone most of all. Shuffling to bed seemed an insurmountable task, so Danse rested his head on his arms to regain his strength.

Someone knocked on the door.

Danse snapped to, blinking away lethargy, searching the room for any sign of the time. His eyes prickled in the cold air.

Hauling himself to his feet, he shambled to the door with an unnerving sense of deja vu. If Cade had sent a scribe to recall him because he missed dinner, he would-

Elder Maxson waited on the other side.

Danse snapped to. "Sir-"

Maxson waved off the formality. "At ease, Danse. I wanted to speak with you, if you're up to it."

"Of course." Danse stepped aside to allow him entry, trying to suppress the dread that coiled in his stomach.

As Maxson stepped past him the scent of smoke and bourbon hung heavy in the air. By the time he closed the door the Elder had turned to face him, standing in the middle of the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

Danse could feel the scrutiny of his gaze, as though Maxson were making his own assessment. He forced himself to stand as tall as he could bear it. If he wanted any chance of being on a rescue team, he had to be strong.

"You should sit down," Maxson gestured towards the chair. "I've read your medical reports."

Danse's face flushed but he obeyed, suppressing a wince as he sat.

Maxson took a moment to study him, his gaze even more piercing than that of Brandis, in spite of the deep shadows haunting his eyes.

"How are you feeling, soldier?"

"A little rough around the edges," Danse admitted. "But I'll be fit for duty in no time. How goes the fight in Boston?"

"The situation in the Boston ruins is dire," Maxson began. "We've received reports that there were at least two behemoths within the city, one an abnormal. Both have been felled by our forces but the fighting goes on. The Commonwealth is fortunate that we are here, and that there isn't a super mutant as capable as Shepherd amongst them."

"How are our forces faring?"

A shadow flitted across the Elder's face, so fast Danse barely caught it.

"We have suffered casualties, but the liberation of Boston from the mutant horde is imminent. Our brothers and sisters are routing their nests and reducing those abominations to ash as we speak. However, I didn't come to discuss the battle with you. I was informed that you may have a lead as to the whereabouts of Knight Hart and Squire Burke?"

At last. "Yes sir. We were enroute to Goodneighbor when we were set upon by a behemoth. I stayed behind to cover our retreat and buy the Knight and Squire time to escape."

"Goodneighbor…" Maxson spoke the word with distaste. "All reports cite it as a den of iniquity, ghouls and scum."

"We felt at the time it was our best chance to ensure the Squire's safety,"

"I believe Knight Hart has contacts within the settlement. Given the situation, she deemed it the most appropriate fallback point and I supported her. There were no other options at the time."

Maxson gave a nod. "Despite its many shortcomings, reports suggest that Goodneighbor survived the mutant hordes largely unscathed. Once the area is secured I will send a squad down to investigate if they have not already returned."

Danse bit back his frustration that they weren't taking immediate action. Even if Nora and Burke had made it into Goodneighbor, they needed to be evacuated to the Prydwen immediately. Goodneighbor might be marginally safer than the ruins, but Nora was still recovering from her own wounds and Burke needed to be somewhere secure, safe from the horrors in the wasteland.

He recalled the squire's terrified eyes and pale face, the desperation in his voice as he pleaded for him to stay with them. A vice tightened its hold around Danse's throat and he swallowed hard, raising his gaze from Maxson's boots when the Elder walked towards him.

Arthur stopped beside him, one hand reaching out to grasp Danse's shoulder. "We'll find out what happened to them, Danse. But it's good to have you back aboard. Rest up. That's an order."

Danse swallowed again and nodded, then Arthur let his hand fall and showed himself out of the Paladin's quarters, closing the door behind him.

Arthur fought a sigh.

It was not unexpected that Danse would be in a dire state, but the reports always failed to capture the true depth of the situation. The physical damage was nothing compared to the toll of his team's loss. There was only one other occasion where Danse's condition had been worse, and Arthur could see the shadows of Cutler haunting Danse's eyes.

Even so, Danse was only one of many in such condition. Arthur proceeded to the medbay, which was filled almost to capacity, even after Cade begrudgingly released as many of the injured to their quarters as he could.

As he looked around the medbay, taking in the rows of filled cots and drawn partitions, he regretted that he could not join his brothers and sisters on the field. No matter the logic, it always sat poorly that he asked them to lay down their lives while he could not lead the charge himself.

Arthur strode down the ward. Many of the soldiers were asleep due to the late hour and medication they'd been given, but those who were still awake he saluted and quietly exchanged what he hoped were inspiring words. Cade stood by Forester's bed, writing on a clipboard. He glanced up at Arthur's approach.

"Elder."

"Cade." He inclined his head, slowing to a halt beside him. The knight-captain had been on his feet for most of the night and day, as had his teams. Necessary though it was, war always exacted a heavy price in blood. "How are things here?"

Cade gestured towards his desk at the end of the room and they walked towards it, from the earshot of most patients.

"We've suffered some more fatalities and a few life-changing injuries, and more injured will be arriving at the airport in the coming hours. We're doing all we can, but after this offensive we'll need to secure more medical supplies to replenish our stores. I'll have a full report written up for you tomorrow."

Arthur inclined his head. "Understood."

"With all due respect, sir, now would be a good time for you to rest as well." Cade added

"I shall take it under advisement," Arthur replied. "As you were."

With that he turned heel, hands clasped tightly at his back. As he walked in the direction of his quarters and the command deck, wondering how many reports he could fit in before exhaustion overtook him, a scribe marched along the corridor towards him.

"Elder Maxson, sir! Lancer-Captain Kells sent me to find you. He requests your presence in the comms room. He says it's urgent."

Arthur arrived at the comms room within minutes, ignoring the growing weight that was settling upon his shoulders in an invisible mantle. He could only assume the worst when he was summoned in the dead hours, especially by the Captain.

Kells intercepted him as he entered, raising his fist in salute. His face was haggard, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. "Elder Maxson. We may have a lead on the missing Squire and with your permission, I would like to send a squad to investigate."

Despite every hour-every death-of the day hanging from his shoulders, the weight felt more bearable. At last, some good news. "What information do we have?"

"One of our patrols was approached by a runner from Goodneighbor. They claim that Squire Burke is currently in the care and protection of the 'mayor' there. According to our records, the mayor is a ghoul known as 'Hancock.' He's no friend of the Brotherhood, but has given us 'permission' to send a squad to collect the squire."

Finally he had good news to relay to Danse. While Arthur didn't yet have his full report, the situation was fairly clear, from recovering Danse almost dead while his team was yet lost. While it wasn't the first or the last time Danse had made such a sacrifice, Arthur knew it would be in vain if his subordinates were not found alive.

Which left one MIA soldier.

"Kells. You neglected to mention Knight Hart in your report."

"I've received no updates on her whereabouts, sir," Kells replied gravely. "The communication from Goodneighbor mentioned only the Squire, and none of our patrols have sighted her."

After watching the death toll increase in real time, one more wouldn't break Arthur. But he felt tired as he said, "See to it that the Squire is safely delivered to the Prydwen."

"Yessir!"

A/N: Words cannot express how grateful I am to the amazing sunsolace without whom this chapter would not have been completed at all! I am also extremely grateful and touched by you readers who kept re-reading, reviewing and messaging me about BleeStee on my tumblr - it's basically what made me keep going rather than just leave it languishing even longer in writing purgatory so this is for you! Really hope you enjoy it!

Also the Live and Love cover was inspired by some beautiful Noranse art she did for me that you can find at : post/167118559956/this-is-why-nora-is-ripped-birthday-present-for