A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
Piper could barely think straight. First of all, she hated flying. There were a few times that she'd been with Blue, back when he was still working for the Brotherhood, that he'd thrown one of those grenades that signaled a Vertibird pick-up. So she'd had experiences with the Vertibirds before. But it was terrible. The first time, she'd thrown up over the side, and most likely splatted some dumb raider down on the ground with her chuke. The second time, she didn't vomit, but she was so sea-sick that she nearly fainted when they landed.
But right now, she was too damned scared to be sick. Blue was standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the safety rail on the ceiling, staring silently out towards the Castle. And Elder Maxson was sitting across from her, staring at the wall next to her. His glare was so frighteningly intense that she hoped he didn't come and look at her, because that might just knock her out.
It was the longest ride of her life. She just closed her eyes and wished for it to be over.
There was a thudding sound as the Vertibird hit the ground in front of the Castle. Arthur Maxson immediately leapt from his seat and started walking towards the Castle. Blue gently grabbed Piper by the hand and led her out of the Vertibird. As soon as her head stopped spinning, she brushed him off and started to walk under her own power.
…
They caught up with Elder Maxson as he entered the staging ground. The Elder of the Brotherhood took one look at the sight in front of him, and then turned around to glare at Blue.
"Who…are they?"
Piper looked past the Elder, whose ears might actually be steaming with rage. There was a crowd of people all sitting in the center of the garden area. Some of them were being treated for injuries. Some of them were being given food. Water. And some of them were wearing lab coats, worn and torn from days on the run. Piper felt her chest heave. These were the remnant of the Institute? They looked so…pathetic. So worthless and directionless.
"I'm afraid that the General can't answer that question." Colonel Ronnie Shaw walked up towards the Elder, with two elite Minutemen flanking her. "Seeing as how he was with you the entire time in Diamond City working out this peace treaty or whatever it is that you call it."
"And who are you?" Elder Maxson glared. Colonel Shaw smirked.
"Colonel Ronnie Shaw, director of military training for the Minutemen and second-in-command to the Captain of the Castle. At your service. You must be Elder Maxson." Her smirk deepened. "You're awfully young for someone of your position. I can still see the wet behind your ears."
"Who. Are they?" Elder Maxson repeated.
"They're claiming to be remnants of the Institute."
Elder Maxson stared at her, his eye starting to twitch. He wiped his nose. Piper wondered what the hell he was doing. And then he reached for the revolver that he kept holstered at his hip.
"And just what do you think you're doing, son?" Colonel Shaw asked. She had casually turned the laser musket so that it was pointing towards the Elder. The two Minutemen elites followed her lead.
"They need to die." Elder Maxson said. "Get out of my way."
"All of them? With that little showpiece?" Ronnie asked. "That's a six-shooter, friend. There's at least fifty of them out there. What are you going to do? Shoot 'em all in one go?"
"I'll reload." Elder Maxson hissed. At this, Colonel Shaw's smile faded.
"Elder Maxson, I respect you for all your accomplishments, and I do admit I'm a tad jealous of all those fancy suits and the big stinkin' guns you Brotherhood types carry, but you aren't touching the refugees."
"Refugees?" Elder Maxson snarled. He then turned towards Blue. "Did you know about these people?"
"No." Blue repeated.
"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Elder Maxson said. "You expect me to believe that you have no knowledge of these people? That this is all news to you?"
"…I can't be everywhere in one place, Arthur." Blue said. Piper was utterly blown away with the calm look on his face. He was completely lying to the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. Completely.
"…Then what are you going to do with them?" Maxson asked.
"Don't know." Blue said.
"DON'T KNOW?" Maxson roared. By now, the refugees were all aware that this man in the flight jacket was not their friend. Those that were families were starting to huddle together. "What the fuck do you mean you don't know? They're Institute! Fucking kill them!"
"What would that prove?" Blue asked.
"It'd prove that they're wrong!" Arthur Maxson roared. He turned around and stared them all in the eye. He had lowered his gun, but he was pointing accusatorily towards the clump of refugees. "All of you, all of you, are culpable! Every last one of you perpetuates the very thing that scorched this world and killed billions of people: the advancement of science beyond Man's capability to control it! None of you saw the repercussions of your actions, did you? The people that were kidnapped, the Synths that replaced family members and loved ones. The fear and paranoia that ripped this Commonwealth apart. What was the purpose? Science for the sake of science? The fact that you were 'helping humanity?' Your very existence is proof that we're about to make the same mistake all over again! And the world can't survive a second time!"
He turned back towards the General.
"You're just going to let them sit here? Sit there and leech off of you and the work you have done to help heal this shattered world?" Maxson said. "No. I won't let you. Why aren't you joining me? This is something that needs to be done. Help me get rid of them!"
"What would that prove?" Blue asked again. His voice was more forceful this time. Piper realized that she wasn't breathing. She took a deep breath.
"It's proof that they won't make the same mistakes that doomed the world." Maxson said. "And it sends a message that the monstrocities they committed won't be repeated. You have no idea what the pain that they've caused this world is. You have no idea what the people of the Commonwealth have suffered. To protect them is to betray the very principles that you claim to stand for-"
"NO IDEA?" Blue suddenly roared. All activity in the Castle seemed to grind to a halt. Everyone was looking at Blue. He stared Maxson in the eye. "You need to stop talking, boy. For you have no clue who you're talking to."
He seemed to have grown ten feet. Maxson visibly flinched, and in that moment Piper saw just what it was like to see Blue truly and unequivocally angry. There were veins bulging in his neck, and his eyes were wide. He seemed to be visibly restraining himself from throttling Maxson then and there. But then the moment passed, and he was back to his tired, passive self. It was the most horrifying three seconds of Piper's life, and she'd witnessed a Deathclaw eat another human being alive.
Blue turned towards the huddling group of refugees.
"You took my child from me." Blue said. "You murdered my wife. And then you kept me locked away on ice for however long you wanted. And when I awoke, I found that sixty years had passed and that the infant child that had been ripped from my wife's arms was the man that you called Father!" He let the silence reign. "My son was Father. When I destroyed the Institute, I didn't just destroy the Institute, I had to kill my own son! And he died hating me! He cursed my very name!" There was a single tear running down his cheek. "There is nothing more I would like to do then get my revenge. Nothing. More."
He turned to Maxson.
"But that's not the way we do things." He said. "Because doing that is no different than the world that I came from. You don't know what it was like, Arthur. None of you do. The world in the days leading up to the bombs? It was a shithole! Food riots. Gas shortages. Fear. Paranoia. Warfare. Martial law! Any and every myth you've read about how good the ol' US of A was back in the day was complete bullshit!" He took a deep breath. "I'll be damned if this new world goes down that same path. Because that path is paved with what looks like justice. What feels like the right choice. And that path starts with executing people who haven't had a chance to defend themselves." He turned towards Maxson. "We put them on trial. We give them a chance to explain themselves. And we let the people of the Commonwealth decide their fate."
"How can we do that?" Elder Maxson asked. The anger had faded from his voice. Now there was a frustrated confusion. Piper noticed that his frustration no longer seemed to be directed at the General, but rather at the situation. "There's no context for their crimes. The people of the Commonwealth won't be able to understand the rationale, nor will they see the fairness, if there was such a thing. You'd be leaving them to mob rule. Just killing them would be a mercy compared to what a mock trial would do for them."
"You're right, they won't." Blue said. "So we'll have someone explain it to them."
"…Who?" Elder Maxson asked. Blue cleared his throat.
"Dr. Brian Virgil." He said. "He's taken refuge in the Glowing Sea. If we can get him, he will help. He escaped the Institute. He'll help us."
"Do we know that he's still alive?" Elder Maxson asked. "The Glowing Sea is hell on earth."
"He's still alive." Blue said. "I spoke with him last week. I can convince him to come out of hiding and help us deal with them."
Elder Maxson was silent for a long time. He stewed in thought. And then he turned towards the Institute remnant.
"Consider yourselves lucky. This act of mercy granted upon you is more than any of you deserve."
He spat bitterly on the ground towards them. He then looked at Blue.
"We need to return to Diamond City. I want to sign this damned treaty and get it all over with."
…
He watched the Vertibird take off in the sky through the window, and he let out a sigh. As far as he knew, Maxson hadn't seen him. Thankfully, that meant that he could come out of hiding. He hated it, but at the same time, he highly doubted that Maxson would have appreciated seeing him out there while he was raving about the Institute remnant. He would have added fuel to the fire.
Danse opened the door, and walked out onto the staging ground. He was decked in his best Minutemen uniform: a tailored blue suit that looked like the General's uniform, but not nearly as regal. The Captain of the Castle wasn't quite on the same level as the General of the Minutemen, but it was a position of some importance. At least that was what the Colonel was telling him. Perhaps he'd better start acting the part.
The spurs on the boots were a bit much, though. But Cait had been insistent. "Ain't no fuckin' captain without somethin' special. General got the nice dressin' and all that shite. The Captain gets spurs."
He stopped in front of the Institute remnant, and took in the sight in front of him. They were all sitting down and huddled together, looking at him with some degree of confusion and trepidation. He cleared his throat and spoke.
"Welcome to the Castle. I am Captain Danse, and I am in charge of this facility. Any and all authority on this base runs through me, unless the General himself is on station. As he has currently departed, I am the man in charge." He paused in thought. "I will not mince words to any of you. The Institute is accused and suspected of committing horrible crimes against the people of the Commonwealth. And there are many that will want the lot of you dead when they find out your existence. You stand accused of a great magnitude of charges, as well. I cannot speak for your future whenever this trial shall be held, but I can assure you that as long as you remain on site here at the Castle there will be no harm done to you."
"Trial?" One of the elder scientists said. "We haven't done anything wrong!"
There was a brief murmuring of agreement in the group, but then Danse cut it off.
"Tell that to the families who lost loved ones thanks to your kidnapping. Tell that to communities who were torn apart in paranoia as they wondered which of them had been killed and replaced with Synths. Tell that to the many who died as a result of collateral damage thanks to Courser raids to recapture Synths. Tell that to University Point. Tell that to Diamond City, whose own mayor was killed and replaced by a Synth whose sole purpose was to exacerbate racial tension in the Commonwealth and sow discord. And most of all, tell that to the General who just admitted that his own son was kidnapped and brainwashed into believing the message of your Institute at the cost of familial reconciliation." He paused. "Think on these things. And then tell me if you still believe that the Institute has done nothing wrong."
"Captain Danse!" One of the Minutemen said. "We've prepared the catacombs for the refugees."
"Good. Lead them there." Danse said. And get them out of my sight. Danse thought to himself, as they were led to their chambers for the evening. He decided to walk up towards the battlements, and get some fresh air away from these people that reminded him of his own inauthentic existence.
But was he really so inauthentic anyway? None of them recognized him as a Synth. None of them said anything. They'd…forgotten about him. Most likely his reactivation code, if he even had one, had been lost to history. Who was he, anyway? All up to this point, he'd been living a lie. And here he was, about to live the rest of his life.
Live. He was alive.
"Oy."
He turned around, interrupted from his thoughts. It was Cait. She walked up the steps towards the battlement that Danse was standing on. Her eye had blackened, but the swelling had gone down. Her ribs were taped up, and she winced with every step.
"Good evening, Cait." Danse said. She smirked.
"Always so formal, fusspot."
"Being a fusspot is a full-time job in my experience." Danse said. "So I might as well live up to it." At this, Cait laughed.
"You're really gettin' the hang of this! Though your joke delivery is still a bit forced." She said. She then smiled some more. "A far cry from the arsehole you used to be." She then raised an eyebrow. "You know your birthday, Danse?"
"I thought I did." Danse said. "But considering that was most likely a false memory implanted by the Institute, I doubt it was real."
"Then fuck it. Happy birthday!" She tossed him a little rectangular box. It was pretty nice, and it was clasped shut. Danse handled it dumbly, and then stared at her.
"What is it?"
"Well, you gotta open it to figure that out ya doofus!" Cait said. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. She struck a match on the bottom of her boot, and soon was puffing away. Danse opened the box, and then stared at what it was in the inside.
"Is this a…pipe?" Danse asked.
"Figured ya were too classy for one of these things." Cait said, gesturing to her cigarette. "But a pipe? The right proper bit for a fusspot like yerself." She said with a wink. Danse stared at it, and then back at Cait.
"Where did you find this?" He asked. "Cigarettes are rare enough in the Commonwealth. I can't imagine pipes and tobacco are more common."
"Ah, I pulled a few strings and called in a few favors." Cait said. "Far as I'm concerned, you need somethin' to stand out about yerself. Remind ya that there are people that care about you, because they like the fact that you're a big ol' fusspot. Besides…" She took a drag from her cigarette, and then blew the smoke out of her nose. "Don't they say that the mark of a real man is if he smokes a pipe?"
Danse stared at her, his frown slowly giving way to a bemused expression. He took a match from Cait, and then lit it on the bottom of his boot. He gingerly held the flame in the pipe until he could smell the snuff burning, and then he went to work. He was glad that he remembered the important technique of smoking one: don't inhale. He puffed away, and before long he could taste the tobacco. He looked at Cait, who was enjoying her smoke, and then raised an eyebrow.
"I'm pretty sure they say real men smoke cigars, Cait."
"Yeah…but stuffy bastards smoke pipes!"
There was a pause.
"Cait…did you just give me this thing so you have a justifiable reason to call me a fusspot?"
"Boy, you really a smarty pants, Danse!"
Danse just rolled his eyes. But he smiled all the same. Cait laughed too, but soon they were interrupted by another sound. They followed it. Sitting against the artillery piece, his gun resting on his lap, and snoring like gunfire, lay MacCready. He had the look of a man who had been through the toughest day of his life, and had come out on top. Danse and Cait looked at him, and then each other. They smiled lightly, and then walked away to let the tired mercenary have his sleep.
…
When the Vertibird touched back down in Diamond City, it was twilight. It had been completely silent for the entire ride, though it wasn't nearly as tense. Piper just felt the exhaustion in the air, both between the Elder as well as Blue. When they landed, Elder Maxson quietly excused himself and returned to the upper boxes. That left Piper and Blue. Blue turned towards Piper.
"I think I'm gonna go for a walk, Piper." He said. "Just…clear my head."
"Blue, are you okay?" Piper asked. "What you said over at the Castle…"
"Yeah. It didn't feel good." Blue admitted. "But…but that's the first time that I've really admitted it. At least like that. And if nothing else, I know that Elder Maxson now knows that I have legitimate reasons to dislike the Institute and I'm not just being a sympathizer. We're more alike than you'd think."
Piper shuddered.
"I hope not, Blue. You're sweet and funny and kind and…Maxson isn't. He's an asshole."
"There's a reason that everyone is the way they are, Piper." Blue said. He was silent. But then he spoke again. "But things can change. People change. It's the only hope for the future, you know?"
Piper just nodded. Blue chuckled, and then spoke again.
"You've always been good to me, Piper. The best, really."
He then hugged her. At first, Piper wasn't sure what was going on. But then she returned the embrace. She noticed that his shoulders were pretty stout and he didn't feel too soft so clearly he exercise-
Where did that come from?
Blue broke the embrace, and then winked at her.
"You should go check on Nat. No doubt she's had a busy day writing the Publick without you." He turned around and walked away, leaving behind a very flustered reporter.
Piper turned around to walk away, only to see a familiar face standing in front of the Publick with Nat.
"Hey, Nicky." Piper said. Nick Valentine looked at her and grinned.
"Howdy, Piper. I take it things were a little rough over at the Castle?"
"You…have no idea." Piper said. Nick chuckled.
"I'll buy you a drink at the Dugout and we can chat. Vadim said I could get a two-for-one special thanks to the extra business this peace talk has brought to his business."
"You know what, Nicky?" Piper said. "That would be great. Because after today, I need a drink. I need a big, big drink." Nick chuckled and clapped his hand on Pipers shoulder.
"Lead the way, Toots."
"…Don't call me that, Nicky."
"Sure thing, Doll. I'll leave the pet names to your boy toy."
"He is not my boy…Nick!"
"What? I'm a private detective. I tend to notice things."
"Nick…"
"Or maybe I'm just an old man. I'll let you decide."
…
Whenever it got particularly dark, he liked to climb up here at night. There were a few lights down in the city, but for the most part there wasn't any light except the stars and the moon if he was lucky. He'd discovered the entrance to these seats up high on his first week in Diamond City. He was lucky that the security hadn't caught him: usually he had to wait until they'd left before he shimmied up here. But now that he was the General, he could do whatever he wanted.
And right now, what he wanted was to sit up in the box seats on top of the Green Monster at Fenway Park.
There were times where it got to him. The fact that his favorite baseball team's stadium was now a shantytown. A thriving shantytown, but a shantytown all the same. He wondered if the people down there even knew what the meaning of this old wall was from the old days. If he had it his way, that doofus Moe would be kicked out of the city for his debasing of the name of "baseball." The thought of kids not liking the sport because they mistakenly thought it was a bloodsport was enough to curdle his blood and set his teeth on edge.
But then he took a puff from his cigar. And that made things feel a little bit beter.
There was a soft breeze in the air. It was enough to make the wind whistle gently through the rickety old seats up here. But it did not completely block out any noise. And thus, he was able to hear the sound of someone walking up to sit by him. The figure took a seat next to Blue, unfolding the seat to make sure that it was still working. They both sat in silence for what felt like a few minutes. It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt longer.
"That's quite a view." Arthur Maxson said. Blue nodded, and grunted once in agreement. Maxson tilted his head to the side, and scratched his beard in thought. "How many people do you think lived in this city before everything?"
His voice didn't have the same forcefulness that it normally carried. Here, with no one around them and no one to judge or supervise, Blue noted that Arthur Maxson sounded quite young.
"About a million." Blue said. "The overcrowding did a number in the inner city infrastructure. I was lucky to get out into the suburbs. There was more space."
Maxson nodded, though it was clear that he didn't fully understand what a "suburb" was. After a few moments of sitting, Arthur Maxson spoke again.
"When I was ten, I was placed in charge of the Brotherhood of Steel." He said. "All my life, I was raised on the notion that I was the heir to a great legacy, that my forefather Roger Maxson had created the Brotherhood of Steel as a way to protect the future of humanity from the perils of science run amuck. I was told I would lead the Brotherhood of Steel to a golden age, and soon the world would rebuild behind me." He paused. "My first day in power armor, I shot my commanding officer."
There was a pause. Blue looked incredulously at Maxson, who kept staring out into the distance with a passive face…until he started to snicker. Blue started to laugh too, and before long the two of them were both laughing.
"Did…did this person die?" Blue finally asked.
"No." Maxson said. "But she damn near killed me! PT'd my ass until I was puking up the previous month's food." He chuckled again. "She molded me into the man I would become…I was raised to be assured in every decision that I made was the right one. And yet here I stand with you, finding myself questioning almost everything that I have believed in for years. Why is that?"
Blue paused for a moment. And then he found his voice.
"Because you're human, Arthur. Anyone who thinks that every single decision that they make is correct is delusional. That's just not how the chain of command works. That's not how being an honest and good ruler works."
"What, then, in your opinion, makes a good ruler?" Maxson asked.
Blue thought it over. And then he spoke.
"Being a good ruler is…confidence. The ability to know that whatever decision you make, you have the capability to see it through to the end. But at the same time, you know that nothing you say or do is infallible…so you surround yourself with smart people that you can trust and who you know have the best interest of the people at heart. And at the same time…every decision you make? Not all of them are gonna land. So whenever that happens, you just admit you screwed up and then work to fix the problem. But above all, I guess the most important thing to remember is that power is fleeting. It won't last forever. So you better be damned sure to do right by those that trust you with taking care of them. And in the end, you just trust that things work out in the end."
Blue finished his speech, and then looked over at Maxson.
"How do you do it? How do you handle it all?"
Maxson contemplated this for a moment. And then he spoke.
"Sometimes…I feel the need to prove myself." He said. "There are some Proctors in the Brotherhood who have been making decisions since before I was born. Some of them have been retired from active duty longer than I have been alive. Every day, I deal with the lot of them. 'Arthur, you must do this.' 'Arthur, you must do that.' 'Arthur, this decision might not be in the best interest of the Brotherhood.'" He sighed, and rubbed his brow in exhaustion. "And there are times where I feel they wait for me to stumble, so that they can declare the Maxson line a failed dynasty. And then they will replace me with someone that will easily cowtow to the hardliners, or those that have personal gains in mind over the long-term advancement of both the Brotherhood and the human race."
"Do you believe them?" Blue asked. "That the Maxson line is a doomed line?"
"No." Arthur said, blinking once and then turning to look at Blue. "I can feel the rush with every decision I make. I can see the world shaping in front of me. And the thought of being at the wheel as humanity shakes itself off and pulls itself out of the dust is exhilarating. I do not fear the challenges of the future. I welcome them." He smacked his fist into his glove. He was silent for a moment.
"Then what are you afraid of?" Blue asked. "Are you afraid of offending traditionalists? Is that why you make such a big deal about playing hardball with me?"
"It isn't about 'playing hardball,' General." Arthur said. "It's about making my opinions clear. You may disagree with my methods, but you cannot deny that my goal is to make the Commonwealth a better place, and to make the world capable of healing from what happened in the past."
"But no one man should have all that power." Blue said. "And if you push too hard, you're gonna lose the people here. I mean, you could, if you wanted, lay down the law. You could proclaim yourself king, and enforce every policy you wish and not give a damn what others think." He took a puff from his cigar, and blew out a massive cloud of smoke as he looked at the Elder. "But you'd better be ready to kill everyone. And I mean everyone. No one will bow to what they feel are repressive policies. They'll fight to the very last man or woman, because oppressive policies are what pushed us to the brink. Do you want to kill everyone again?"
"I don't want to kill anyone." Maxson said. "All military strategies I come up with are designed to minimize casualties. And in turn I want to make the world…safe. That's what I want, General."
"That's what I want, too." Blue said.
There was a silence. And then Maxson spoke.
"…Then I guess this isn't hopeless after all."
"What do you mean?" Blue asked. Maxson chuckled.
"Some of my advisors told me that this was a pointless exercise. That the Commonwealth wasn't capable of sending people that could match our policymakers. They thought that the Commonwealth was filled with country bumpkins that couldn't string two sentences together. But I…objected. I thought that there were a few good men and women down here, and that they were willing to compromise. And I found one in you, General."
Blue chuckled, and ran his hand through his shaggy hair.
"My name is Nate." Blue said. "You can call me Nate."
"Is it short for something?" Maxson asked.
"Yeah. My full name is Nathanael Greene. I share it with an old Revolutionary war general."
"I guess that makes you a very fitting leader for the Minutemen, then." Maxson said.
They both laughed.
"We fight, get beat, rise, and fight again." Blue said. "That was his motto."
"Why let him hog it?" Maxson asked. "That seems a fitting motto for the Commonwealth. Perhaps something worthy to put on official flags or letterhead." He paused, and then sighed. "Tomorrow…we will discuss your plan for this…trial and this Dr. Virgil with the others. And from there, that about deals with everything. Except for the Synth question."
"And what is there to say about that?" Blue asked. "The Institute is destroyed. Synths cannot be produced anymore."
"That may be so, but the message must be sent that the very creation of Synths is an abomination. So that no more are made."
"And what of those that are still here?" Blue asked. "The ones that have assimilated into society and are living quiet lives?"
"I do not have an answer for that at this time." Maxson said. Blue sighed.
"Nothing."
"Nothing. I cannot reconcile that. I have bent on many things, but I simply cannot see Synths as anything more than perversions of nature. If we are to go through with this trial, then we will need to know how many Synths there are out there and, if possible, find how many of them were brought into the Commonwealth for malicious purposes."
"And what about those that were not? Or were forgotten?" Blue asked.
Maxson paused. He then stayed silent. Blue then took a deep breath.
"If you at least allow for an explanation of the assignment of every Synth, then we can determine which are the ones that might need to be brought in and those that can just live their lives. Including Danse." Blue said, ignoring the livid expression on Elder Maxson's face. "And if you are willing to do that, I will give you something in return."
"It had better be something that somehow manages to cover up the fact that I'll allow you to let that thi-Danse live with you." Elder Maxson said. "And that would have to be something very fucking big."
Blue took a deep breath. And then he took a puff from his cigar.
"Vault 111."
Maxons nearly fell out of his chair.
"…What?" He asked.
"If you are willing to let this trial progress naturally, and with the fullest of due process and the intentions of civility and law…I will give the Brotherhood of Steel access to Vault 111." Blue said. "Think of the technology in there. And the things that you could learn about the old world through its logs. It is a treasure trove of information."
"You're willing to part with that knowledge?" Elder Maxson asked, thunderstruck. "Why…what on earth would motivate you to do such a thing?"
"I have no use for that nightmarish place." Blue said. "My wife is there. And there's nothing but death and pain for me in there."
"…Oh." Elder Maxson said.
The silence lasted an eternity. Finally, Maxson spoke.
"What…what was she like?" Arthur asked. "If…if you don't mind?"
"…I don't." Blue said. "She was…she was the light of my life. Nora. I remember my first date with her. I'd been with a few of my buddies, off on shore leave. We were in this little dive bar, and there was Nora and a few of her friends standing at the bar. Some of my buddies nudged me to go get her, and then did everything they could to make me look like a dumbass." He started to smile a bit. "When I finally got to her, she just raised an eyebrow and looked totally un-interested. So I told her the truth: my buddies were setting me up, and they didn't think I could get her number. So I told her to write a fake number on a sheet and give it to me so that I could laugh in their faces…she gave me a cryptic smile, and then did just that. I won $100 bucks, or about 200 caps, from that one."
"But that wasn't the last time you saw her, right?" Arthur asked. Blue laughed.
"No. I got home, and on a lark decided to call the number she'd written…lo and behold, it was actually her phone number. We went out for burgers and ice cream the next night…and the rest, as they say, was history." He wiped a tear from his eye. "I've…I've only just come to grips with the fact that I have to let her go. And I have…but Vault 111 hangs over me like a grim reaper, taunting me about her death in its bowels. I need to get rid of it. And if you can do that for me, then…then I'll do anything to help work with you."
Elder Maxson was silent for a moment. And then he gestured towards Blue.
"…If the offer is still on the table…I think I'll take you up on that cigar, now."
Blue stared at him, wordlessly, and then handed the freshly-clipped cigar towards Elder Maxson. Maxson leaned in as Blue lit it…and then started to cough violently. Blue laughed.
"Puff. Don't inhale."
It took a few moments, but soon Maxson was healthily puffing away. He then took the cigar out of his mouth, and then blew the smoke into the air. He looked over at Blue.
"I think I could get used to this." He said.
"They're not bad." Blue admitted.
Maxson smiled. And then he spoke again.
"I loved someone once. She died some time ago, but I knew that I loved her even when I was a boy. She was always there for me, in that sort of protective, comforting way." He said. "I knew that it was never going to happen, you know. I was but a boy, and she was a grown woman. But…that didn't stop the feelings. And whenever I studied my history of the Brotherhood or worked to improve my field training and command, I always did it wondering what she thought of it all. Whether she'd be proud of me. And that thought has always been there with me. When I heard about her death…it just felt like I'd been ripped in two. And the only solace I cold take was the fact that…that in the end, she was finally getting the rest she deserved. Because she fought so hard. So, so hard." He sniffled a little bit, and Blue thought he saw a tear running down the young man's face. "And yet I miss her every day. I never told her how I felt, you know? I should've…maybe I'd have been embarrassed, but…now I'll never know."
"She's not gone, you know." Blue finally said. "As long as you remember her…"
"I know." Maxson said. "I know."
He paused. And then he looked over at Blue.
"She deserves a proper send-off."
"…Sorry?" Blue asked. Maxson was adamant.
"Your wife. She deserves a burial with full honors, given to her by the Brotherhood of Steel. A funeral, and then a military burial. She deserves better than to rot in Vault 111 forever. I won't allow it." He said.
"But I'm not Brotherhood anymore." Blue said.
"Maybe so. But if you're about to reach over the aisle for something like this, then the least I can do is let you know how much such an offer is appreciated." He said. He then extended his hand. "Together, shall we make the Commonwealth a better place?"
Blue stared at the Elder's hand for a moment.
But only for a moment. He needed to make sure he could see where he was reaching.
They shook hands, and a gentle breeze rustled through the stands.
They sat back in their seats, and Elder Maxson took a moment to enjoy his cigar. Finally, he spoke up.
"You asked me how I get through it all."
"I did." Blue said.
"You want to know what keeps me going in the end, in the wake of every decision I make?" Elder Maxson asked.
Blue leaned over, staring intently at the man next to him.
Maxson let out a breath of smoke, and stared up to the heavens.
"I think of Sarah." Elder Arthur Maxson said. "The rest is easy."
A/N: And the biggest chapter is over! This one was tough, especially as I danced between how I wanted to characterize Maxson. In the end, I stole from history, using the template of Mikhael Gorbechev: he was willing to reform, and yet often put on an act in order to appeal to higher ups in order to save his power. Perhaps after talking to Blue, he'll be more confident in letting the Proctors know that he is in charge, and not his legacy? We will see…
…because this story can't just end with Détente! I plan to add a sequel story to this one, because there are a few questions that still need answering. And I don't intend to leave them unanswered forever. And I also can't do them justice with the one remaining chapter I have in this story (really, it's the epilogue. Stick to the end, there'll be a surprise!)
See you next time!