A little bit of overview for the readers who I hope don't get too cross with me. This is obviously a Fic derived from Fallout 4 (IF YOU HAVEN'T COMPLETED IT YET, SPOILERS ARE WITHIN, SO HALT!) I was dying to write some Sole Survivor/Danse romance. He's an amazing character with, what I felt, tons of layers of angst. But if you've ever gallivanted the Commonwealth, you'll find there isn't a lot of dialogue to work with, so some of his lines may be a tad out of character, bear with me.

On another note, this is my first piece I've written since I had my son two years ago, so the flow will seem a bit choppy and for that I apologize. This is also my first time experimenting with first person (which generally I'm really opposed to) for any errors, I again, apologize! With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

This story is M and is suggested for only those 16+

This story has adult themes throughout, I'll tag incoming bits with an M. Feel free to skim over it if you'd like!

THE TRUTH HURTS

I could only remember being so enraged, once in my life. I was ten. Your typical school reject. My father ever-absent, my mother the town oddity. One of the girls in my class had pushed me down into a patch of thick mud. I laid there in shame, tears running down my face. A group of cackling children surrounded me like a childish cult, chanting some sickening little rhyme. I remember feeling that hot little flame inside of me. Pale and bruised at first. With each lyric and sneer it flickered a little brighter. My body engulfed in hatred and pain.

Before I could even consider the repercussions of my actions I had stood to my feet, sweltering and seeping with fury. The leader of the pack hesitated, her eyes suddenly glazed with fear. I flung myself at her, my little body tackling hers like an untamed animal. All the pain and anger in my little self poured out in a fury of wailing punches. Relentlessly, I attacked her and nothing could stop me. Not the silence of the children surrounding us or the desperate cries and commands of a passing teacher.

Needless to say, I was not allowed back to school after that episode. I spent the rest of the year under my grandmother's tutelage. She made sure to remind me frequently of what I had done. That one incident had scared me so badly I spent the years leading up to this point keeping that little bruised flame in check as best I could. Briefly, it would spark and wane. The attack on the super mutants was a prime example. That cusp of insanity was numbing.

Now, here, with that tattered piece of paper clutched in my fist, I felt that familiar pang of rage. It swelled and exploded inside of me. My chest heaved, fingernails clenching into my palms so tightly I surely drew blood. My eyes unpredictable and blazing, looked at Gideon's sleeping form with feral wrath.

I moved slowly with calculation to the heap of clothes on the floor next to his bed. I knelt down, my eyes never leaving him. I slid his handgun from its holster, holding it with one steady fist. I stood, slowly, aiming it at him. Silently, I stood there, aimed down the sights at his sleeping body. I could feel the pulse of anger in my temples, down my arms and in the back of my head.

The room was silent, save for the loud coking of the gun as I pulled back the hammer with my thumb. Gideon awoke, looking over his shoulder from the place on his belly. A bewildered look skittered across his face.

"Fox?" he said unsteadily, putting his hand up protectively. I breathed shallowly now, my eyes full to the brim with hot, vengeful tears.

"You fucking bastard," I seethed through clenched teeth. I tossed the crumpled piece of paper at him. It hit his chest and tumbled onto the mattress. He didn't need to look at it to know what it was. He looked up again, eyes stony and unfamiliar. I knew who he was now and I could see the calculative eyes of a cold killer there in front of me. "Who sent you?" I said, arching my neck to look down the barrel at him. Despite the crazed look on my face, he smiled and shook his head. I took a step closer, "Who sent you?" I shouted, my voice sharp and unhinged. Gideon sighed, that sickening grin still on his face.

"I think you know who sent me," his voice was slimy and confident. I wanted to pistol whip the life out of him.

"The Brotherhood," I breathed shakily. Gideon winked and nodded. I knelt down on the mattress and let the cold metal of the barrel caress his chest. "Where did they find the recall code?" I said hotly. He looked up at me, unafraid.

"I don't know the details love, I just do the job," he shrugged. I pushed the barrel against him roughly.

"Where is he?" I said angrily. I could feel that flame growing and it scared me like nothing else.

"I don't know where he is, I-" before he could finish his sentence I had pistol whipped him across the face, hard. He buckled and brought the back of his hand up to a gash in his lip. He chuckled and shook his head. "I like that about you, Fox. You don't give up," he said, wiping his bloody hand on the front of my shirt. I never broke eye contact, looking at him like my carrion to be devoured. He sighed and ran his tongue over his gashed lip, "If I knew where he was, I wouldn't tell you." I lowered myself until my lips hovered over his ear.

"I don't usually say this," I breathed, "But I'm going to enjoy killing you." I backed up, forcing my heady gaze on him. I grabbed his jaw in one hand shoved the barrel of the handgun into his mouth, shutting it around it tightly. His hand grabbed my wrist, but I fleeted a warning glance. He swallowed, eyes now dancing deliciously with horror. "Now," I started, my finger a ghost on the trigger, "Before I paint this wall with your brain matter, you can give me answers," I said gently. I could see the panic in his pools of hazel, looking to and fro.

Abruptly, he had twisted my wrist until I heard a snap. I shouted as the gun fell, bouncing off the mattress and clattering onto the concrete. Lithe and experienced, he punched the center of my stomach and kicked my legs out from under me, sending another sickening snap into the air at the point of my ankle. I fell to my side, gasping for air. But I couldn't lay there, I had to push past the pain in my wrist and the dull ache in my gut. I rolled to the floor, but he was quickly on top of me, kicking the gun out of my reach. He put a knee into the center of my back and pressed his hands into the back of my shoulders. Eagerly, victorious, he spoke with a heaving voice.

"You've got spunk kid, I'll give you that," he said through a smile. I laid there, my face crushed into that cold, filthy concrete. The flame ebbing away and taking my strength with it. "But you aren't meant for this world," his haughty voice sending tendrils of hate though me like a poison in my veins.

"Fuck you," I said through clenched teeth, my chest screaming from the weight on my back. He laughed, standing up and picking up the gun. I laid there on my stomach like wounded prey. I heard him open the chamber, spinning the mechanism and pouring the rounds out into his hand. I closed my eyes, steadying myself for what would follow.

"Let's play a game," he said, loading one round into the chamber and snapping it shit. He pulled back the hammer and pointed the gun at me. "Every time I pull the trigger and the bullet doesn't fire, gives you one chance to take it back," he said, clicking the trigger. The hammer fell and I clenched my eyes shut. But nothing fired. He smiled and nodded his head. "You're running out of chances, darling," he goaded, pulling back the hammer again. I slowly stood to my feet. I wavered, my left arm hanging limply at my side. He tilted his head and smiled at me. "Oh, still a little fight left eh? Atta girl," his voice dripping with sarcasm. He pulled the trigger again. The hammer fell and purged nothing once more. He whistled and grinned from the side of his mouth, "You've got some luck."

I slowly limped past him and he cocked the hammer again. He didn't turn around, just laughed, "You're going to try and run now?" he said in disbelief. I took his pause as an advantage and picked up a piece of rusted rebar from the floor, clutching it in my good hand. He slowly turned and pointed the gun at me. "What are you going to do with that, love?" he said shaking his head.

Gideon pulled the trigger one final time. The hammer fell down into a silent click. The moment of silence following seemed to go on forever. I took the rebar in both hands, my broken wrist screaming. Everything moved with a perfect slowness. I arched back, swinging my elbows and shoved the rebar into his bare stomach all the way up to my wrist. All the way through his back. He screamed in painful disbelief, dropping the gun and holding the rusted piece of metal with both hands. I let go and staggered back, "Ad Victorium, you sick son of a bitch." He fell to his knees, still reeling. I dropped to my knees before him, cradling my wrist. I wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes. He sputtered blood and finally fell to his side, the last breath purged from his chest with a pathetic gasp.

I sat there on my knees in that dusty stillness, still trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. I could feel the tears on my cheeks as I laid down and curled up. I was truly alone, now.

I don't know how long I slept, but it was still daylight when I finally awoke. Gideon's lifeless body lay next to me, bloody and defeated. My body ached, tired of fighting this fight. It was supposed to be over. I was supposed to be happy. Instead I laid defeated on that filthy fucking floor. I took in the hazy afternoon light, my eyes sore. The dust danced around in the columns of light, fading into the shadows and out of view. The distant sounds of the wasteland echoed outside the entrance. I could hear the slow drip of water somewhere in the darkness. I could also hear the labor of my own breathing. I had damaged my ribs again. I could feel them shifting under sinew and skin. Gently I lifted myself up to a standing position.

I was not in good shape. I immediately started rummaging around for a stimpack. I found one in Gideon's things, and sat down on the mattress. I felt the undulate of shame as I remembered what had taken place last night. I hissed and kicked an overturned bucket across the room. I shoved the stimpack in one swift movement, into the thickness of my thigh. I felt the cool rush of adrenaline and blur of excitement. I stood up, my ankle no longer sharp but still weak. My wrist felt almost normal.

I grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over my head, tousling my hair and taking a few swigs. I couldn't stay here anymore. I had to find Danse. Those Brotherhood pricks were not going to get away with what they had done. If it was… if it was too late for Danse, I would make them pay. I would make them rue the day they sent that psychotic mercenary to my doorstep.

I packed only the bare essentials; ammunition, medical gear, food and water. I wrapped a strip of fabric around my ankle and headed towards the entrance. I turned around and took a long look at Listening Post Bravo. I remembered the last conversation Danse and I had together. I don't know if he truly never loved me or was taking advice from Gideon. But I couldn't let Maxson and his dogs destroy him out of some sick sense of justice. Not while I was still breathing. Even if Danse couldn't love me back, I still loved him with every ounce of me. Machine or not.

I knew the route back to the Prydwen well, having traversed it before. The trip was infinitely easier, knowing where raiders and the like resided. I had to stop occasionally, but never longer than a few hours at a time. I spent the night in an old shack as a radiation storm rolled in, but couldn't sleep. I was plagued by distant memories and the numbing fear that Danse was gone forever. That I wouldn't ever see him again. At least when I thought he left by choice, I held onto the hope that we would see each other someday. I tried to deny the fact that I missed him so dearly. I missed everything about him. His voice, even though it was grating at times. His lack of humor, his superiority complex. The touch of his skin, the way he smelled. It was slipping through my fingers like sand. I couldn't remember what his eyes looked like, or the sound of his sleeping.

I stood before the mighty Prydwen, stilling my heart. I didn't try to kid myself; I had no clue what I was doing. I was going in blind. Surely Maxson knew I would show up again with Danse out of the way. They wouldn't be surprised with my presence, so that was my advantage. I knew they had to be holding Danse on the ground, in a cell… if he was still alive. I prayed with all my heart that he was still living. That I wasn't chasing a corpse. There was no good reason for them to keep him alive this long. The whole point of procuring him was to get him out of the way. To dole out that twisted Brotherhood brand of justice.

I entered the base, cautiously. A Knight clad in power armor stood watch a minigun in hand. I nodded my head slightly in greeting. He watched me and spoke with a raspy voice.

"Good to see you again Knight Delta," he said as I walked by. The skin on my arms was broken out in cold gooseflesh. Sweat was building on the nape of my neck and hairline. I could never fight my way out of this. I was invariably screwed.

The base was quiet, for the most part. Knight's stood at their posts, Scribes walking back and forth, jotting down on clipboards. Vertibirds loomed overhead, the Prydwen rumbling like a dragon in the air. I made my way to where I knew the cells were. Everyone watched me with curious eyes, exchanging glances, whispering amongst themselves. I tried to keep my head up, my eyes in front of me. I kept mentally reassuring myself. I could do this, I was going to do this. I had to. I couldn't live not knowing what had become of Danse.

The cells were in a dingy, half collapsed building towards the back of the base. An initiate was on guard at the first door. I knew he wouldn't let me past. I had to improvise. I approached the timid looking boy and straightened my shoulders. I dug inside of me for a authoritative voice.

"I'm your relief, initiate. You're needed aboard the Prydwen." It came off sounding rude more than commanding. He blinked at me, confused.

"I was just posted here, Knight," he replied, a tone of suspicion in his voice. I steeled my voice a bit more.

"Questioning an order?" I said raising a brow and tilting my head downwards. I almost felt bad that this poor kid was going to get the ass chewing of his life.

"No ma'am," he said quickly, standing straight and giving me a curt nod. I gestured with my hand and he scurried away, tossing a glance over his shoulder. I didn't have much time, so I quickly shouldered the door and walked in.

The hallway was long and dark. A single dirty bulb hung at the end of the hall, illuminating very little. I quickened my pace and jogged to the end, taking a sharp turn to face a row of dirty cells. The first was empty, save for a sleeping bag and an old plate covered in dirt. The second housed a sleeping soldier, who I knew instantly was not Danse by the lack of hair on his head. I came to the third and paused. Nothing. I growled under my breath, continuing on to find three more empty cells. I kicked the bars lining the last cell and turned around to find a red door that was barred from the outside. I quickly pushed the piece of wood from its cradle and flung it to the ground. I pushed open the rusty door and was greeted by yet another dark hallway. I ran, full sprint and took a sharp right turn. There were three more doors, each barred with a single glass window in the upper center. I peered into the first dusty window and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

There he was.

Danse was seated on a rusty chair, his hands tied behind his back. He was slumped over, wearing nothing but pants and shoes. His dogtags laid in the dirt along with a shirt and a dented, old wooden bat, spattered in blood. I shoved the bar from the door and rushed in. I was shaking so violently I could barely move. I sank to my knees in front of him and peered up at his hanging head.

"Danse," I whispered, touching the side of his jaw. He didn't move. I grabbed his arm and shook it lightly, repeating his name several times like some kind of mantra. After my failed attempts at rousing him, I pulled a bottle of water from my pack. "Please," I begged in a hushed tone. I turned the bottle over and splashed it on his head. He awoke with a groan, flinging his head back in a hazy panic. I put my hands on the side of his face. "I'm here, its me, Fox," I said, willing myself not to cry. "Everything is going to okay," I assured him. He blinked up at me through blackened eyes. They had battered him to an inch of life. I barely recognized him.

"Delta?" he said hoarsely, looking at me as if I was some kind of ghost. I nodded, smiling through a small, subdued sob.

"Why did they do this," I said, glancing around. He swallowed harshly. I could hear the click of his dry throat. I put the bottle of remaining water to his lips and forced him to drink. He guzzled thankfully, nearly drowning himself in the process.

"The think I know where the Institute is," he groaned, clenching his eyes shut. I tried not to focus on how angry I was. How my blood boiled at the sight of Danse beaten and tortured. I quickly went about untying him with unsteady hands. "They'll kill you," he said, looking over his shoulder at me. I didn't pause nor falter.

"They can try," I said, finally taking a knife out and cutting the cord with a swift yank. Danse fell from the chair, the weight of his own body too much to bear. I scuttled to his side, kneeling down over him. "We have to get out of here," I said, glancing up at the doorway. He answered with a thick groan. I pulled his arm over my neck and pulled him to his feet. I think the man weighed at least three tons.

Out of nowhere I could hear the approaching march of combat boots and shouting. I panicked, looking around desperately for another exit. I dragged a half-conscious Danse into the hallway and ran past the two other cells, hitting a deadend. I hissed between my teeth and spun around. The soldiers rounded the corner, three of them, Maxson following suit. My chest heaved violently, cornered like a rat.

"Knight Delta," Maxson said in a raised voice. I could tell he was not only outraged, but shocked at my betrayal, "Its unfortunate to see you again under suck circumstances. It's a shame, a promotion was waiting for you aboard the Prydwen," he sighed, craning his neck to look down his nose at me. The flame in his eyes let me know he fully intended on killing us both right then and there. My mind reeled and skipped, searching frantically for a way out. An idea sparked to life and my eyes flickered with imminent victory.

"I hate to break it to you, Elder," I said through heavy breaths, "But I'd really just prefer if you'd kindly go fuck yourself," I reached into the belt hanging crookedly from my waist and pulled Gideon's handgun from its holster. I pointed at him at him steadily. "When you get to hell, tell Gideon I say hello," I said through a sadistic little grin. I fired, the round bursting forth with a loud reckoning crack. It struck the Elder in the upper chest like a ten ton battering ram. He was flung into the concrete wall behind him.

All three men opened fire on me. They expended their entire magazine, the wall behind us littered with holes and crumbling under the force of their heavy fire. As the dust settled, Maxson sat up, his face bewildered and defeated. I wish I had seen what it looked like. We had vanished in thin air and the blue haze of electricity.

Instantaneously, we were at the Institute. I had nearly forgotten that one of Father's people had installed a courser chip on my Pipboy.

I fell, exhausted onto my knees, laughing lightly between breaths. Danse laid on the floor, beside me. I rolled him to his back and tapped his cheek. His eyes rolled back and he looked up at me.

"What did you do?" he whispered weakly. I looked around then back down at him.

"Saved you," I said simply. He sighed lightly and swallowed.

"Thank you," he said but I could tell it was difficult for him to even say those words.

"I'll be right back," I said, standing up. I recognized the circular alcove I had traveled to on my first visit to the Institute. I had to get help. I was no doctor and Danse wasn't looking very good. I jogged to the tube-like elevator and took it up to the top floor. The floor where I had met Shaun for the first time since Vault 111. The doors hissed open and I hastily sprinted into the room. I opened the next pair of doors and found Father sitting at a desk, looking over a pile of paperwork. He looked up, unsurprised to see me. "Shaun," I breathed, happy to see him again.

"Mother," he said flatly. My heart ached to hear him say that. I approached the desk and kneeled next to him. "We've been waiting for you to return," he said, shuffling his papers. I tried to subdue a crooked smile. I wanted to hug him, to take him in my arms like I used to do. I felt the pang of guilt for what I had done. For betraying my own son to the Brotherhood. I swallowed a lump in my throat nervously.

"I need your help," I said, taking his hands in mine. He looked at me curiously.

"Of course. What is it?" he asked gently. I didn't know how he would react. I didn't know if he would understand or condemn me. But I had to try. I couldn't fix Danse on my own. I stood up and took a few steps towards the door.

"My friend is hurt," I motioned with my hand. Shaun stood up, his brow furrowed angrily.

"You brought someone here?" he asked heatedly. I shook my head.

"I don't have time to explain Shaun. Just know I had no other option." He only stared at me, taking in everything with that calculative looked he had inherited from his father. "Please, hurry," I said desperately. He sighed inwardly and grabbed a white bag from a drawer in his bag. He followed me to the elevator, trying to keep up.

We reached the bottom and I could barely wait for the doors to open. I jogged to the alcove and kneeled beside Danse, putting my hand on his shoulder. Shaun stepped into the circle and stared down at me with a hard gaze. He kneeled down, setting his bag down next to him. He immediately went about his work. I watched his every move with careful eyes. As he finished his exam and bandaging what he could, he stood to his feet with a loud sigh.

"He's a synth," he said sternly. I stood up, clenching my hands together in front of me.

"He is," I responded softly. Shaun shook his head slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"He's not a real person, mother. Just a machine," his words were chastising.

"I know what he is. I also know he saved my life," I said slowly, looking down at my feet. Shaun looked at me, as if I were a silly little child. I sucked in a rocky breath. "I love him," I whispered, my lower lip quivering slightly. Shaun gazed at me as if I'd just punched him in the face.

"He will never love you back, you know this?" I just nodded slowly, pushing my lips together. "I'll save him. But, I can never approve of this," he added. I looked up, surprised. He knelt down again and administered a shot of Med-X. "I'll send someone down to bring him to a clean room. He's suffered a mass amount of damage I'm afraid," he said mostly to himself.

Shaun left through the elevator, turning around to give me one last, lingering look of disappointment. I hung my head shamefully, looking at Danse's bruised face. He opened his eyes slowly. I sat down, cross-legged next to him. He watched me, not saying anything. I didn't expect him to. The silence was excruciating. I forced myself to speak, breathy and shaky.

"You left me," I said painfully. Danse closed eyes, almost annoyed and turned his head to the side, looking away from me. "You can't even look at me," I said, my voice a near whisper. Of course he remained silent. Even if he knew it would make me angry. I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by an orderly.

"Ma'am?" he said, another coming to stand next to him. They were holding a stretcher. I let them do their work, following quietly behind them.

Once they had set us up in a clean room and left, I sat down next to Danse with a bowl of clean water and a few white rags. He watched me as I soaked one and cleaned the dried blood above his brow. I refused to make eye contact with him. I dipped the rag back into the water and wrung it out. As I lifted my hand to dab at his brow again, he grabbed my wrist. I flicked my eyes to his.

"Stop," he said, his voice firm. I dropped my hand into my lap and just stared at him, puzzled. "You don't have to do this, Delta," he inhaled. I tilted my head, and ignored him. He sighed annoyed as I continued my work. I managed to clean his face so he looked somewhat like himself. After I had turned the water into a ruddy color, I set it on the stand and sat back down. He closed his eyes, laying his head back. I didn't speak and he wouldn't have replied anyway. The silence continued until we had both fallen asleep. I think we must have slept for at least twenty-four hours. It was dark when I woke up.

My eyes were tender and swollen. My body hated me for falling asleep sitting down. I rubbed the grog from my eyes and looked over Danse. He looked much better. I didn't know if anyone had come and gone during my slumber but I was thankful they didn't wake me. My stirring must have woken Danse, who's eyes found mine in the darkness. I thought he'd be surprised to see me, but then again, he knew how stubborn I was. I looked away, pretending to not care. Which we both knew was a bald faced lie. The silence was shattered by his gruff voice.

"You should leave," he said, sitting up. He touched his ribs tenderly and began to unwrap the bandage around his midsection. I whipped my head back and narrowed my eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," I hissed. He ignored me and dropped the unwrapped bandage onto the table next to his bed. He stretched his back and ran a hand through his hair, which had grown in my absence. "You're an asshole, I hope you know that," I said quietly to myself. Danse just sighed, giving me a deadpan glare.

"I didn't ask for your rescue. I said thank you. What else do you want?" he said roughly. I couldn't deny how much those words hurt.

"Nothing," I said petulantly. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair.

"What are you waiting for, Delta?" he said, swinging his legs to the side and standing up slowly. I watched him as he tested his legs, walking across the room to get a bottle of water. I swallowed the pain in my chest. The pain he kept inflicting on me. It was like he didn't care about me at all. Ever.

"Is it so bad that I care about your wellbeing?" I said hotly. He drank from the water, wiped his mouth with his arm and looked at me.

"Yes," he said flatly. I growled under my breath and rolled my eyes. When had he become so cold? I didn't understand and he wouldn't let me.

"Well, too fucking bad," I said smugly.

"Why are you so goddamn stubborn?" his voice raised ever so slightly.

"Because I can't just wipe away the past like it never happened," I shouted, standing up angrily.

"I advise you start to learn," he said simply. I took a few steps towards him.

"Stop throwing this pathetic pity party. You think you're the only one with problems? Look around you, you shitbag, The world is filled with sob stories and yours is not any worse than anyone else's." He bristled at my words.

"Coming from the woman who can't let anything go. Not even a life from two-hundred years ago?" he spat back at me. "Your kid and husband were taken from you, we get it."

I crossed the room quickly and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you," I said, breathing heavily. "I confided In you and you throw that in my face?" I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to ebb away the anger swelling up inside of me.

"That's the past," he said, eyes wild and hot, "Pack it up and move on." I raised my hand to slap him again but he grabbed my wrist in midair and held it there. I struggled to loosen his grip, but he held on with ease. "Life is unfair. Life is a bitch and then you die, Delta. That's how it is. Nothing changes and things wont always go your way. Stop being so fucking childish and accept it," he said.

"I can't," I practically screamed at him, ripping my wrist out of his grasp and holding it in my own hand. He looked at me as if I was pitiful. "I can't stop loving someone just because they want me to," I said, a breath hitched in my throat. "You can be as mean as you want be, but I can't stop loving you, Danse." He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up to his face, our noses nearly touching.

"I can't love you Fox," he shouted, giving me a light shake, "Every day I love you is one more chance that you'll die," he said letting go of me roughly. I stumbled and forced my eyes on him.

"I don't care," I said, a chord of despair in my voice. I felt like I was praying to a god who would never grant me my wishes. A holy prayer on my lips. "I don't care if I die tomorrow. Or five minutes from now. Even if you leave me again I can't and I will not stop loving you," I whispered through a hitched sob. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed at me with those brown, dark pools.

"If you died because of me," he said shakily, "I could never live with myself." I could see the shimmer in his eyes and I let out another sob, grabbing him in my arms and hugging him tightly. I buried my face in his chest and let the tears fall. He slowly wrapped his arms around me. "I would rather live without you, knowing you are alive than watch you die," he said slowly, quietly in that inky darkness. I stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. "That day in the field scared me more than anything I have ever faced." I nodded, blinking through my tears.

"You don't want me," I cried, turning away from him to wallow in my display of sadness. He quickly approached me and took me in his arms.

"Don't you dare say that," his voice thick. "I've never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you in my entire life. Don't you understand how hard it was to stay away from you? Every day I was gone was like an eternity," he chided me. "I have never stopped loving you," he whispered. I hiccupped, staring up into those longing eyes.

Danse lowered his mouth on mine and kissed me. I felt the jolt of desire inside of me, for I had longed for his touch for so long. I had missed the taste of him far more than I cared to admit. I kissed him back, fervently. My hands were untamed, aggressive, nearly feral. He slowed me down and pulled back.

"Let me just hold you," he said gently, wiping the tracks of the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. I nodded slowly. He kissed me once more, tilting his head and parting his lips. I did my best to contain that carnal need I had for him. His hands were on either side of my face, gentle yet firm. We seemed to melt into one person. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to just continue to exist in that one single moment. I could feel with every touch of his skin that he couldn't let go of me. I didn't want him to. He didn't break away from me, even when he lifted me onto the bed and loomed over me. His hands felt like paradise on my skin. Every part of me was on fire like I'd never felt before. I had him many times before but it felt like it was our first time touching one another. His touches lingered, his movements slow and careful. He was in no rush, taking me in and keeping it there, reveling in my flesh as if it was sacred. I forgot everything in that moment and I was so thankful for it. I forgot what we had put each other though and what we would continue to do to one another. I forgot that he had hurt me so deeply and entirely that I lost pieces of me I don't think I could ever get back.

As we both laid there, panting and exhausted, he spoke to me through the blackness, "I'm sorry," he said quietly. I rolled to my side and laid my head on his chest.

"I forgive you. I always do," I replied. I rolled my head and rested it on my forearm. "Say it again," I said biting my lower lip.

"Say what?" he said raising his head a little to look at me.

"What you told me that day in the radiation storm."

He was quiet for a moment. The silence scared me. He sighed inwardly and placed a hand on my hip, laying his head back down.

"I love you." My heart swelled. "I will always love you."

I didn't know what would happen. Or where we would go, or if we'd even go together… but at that moment I didn't care. I knew he loved me and that was all I needed.