28. Synthetic Work

Beth POV

Crossfire by Stephen

"What?" I'm completely taken aback by the Elder's statement. "He… can't—that's impossible! …You're lying."

"Am I?" He slams a folder into my hand. "See for yourself." I open the folder I'm given and scan through document after document. They all say the same thing. "M7-97 and Paladin Danse are one in the same. The fact that he's gone AWOL proves this further—as if the data from the Institute and our own records are not corroborative enough already."

I've seen enough. I close the folder and hand it back to him. "There must be some kind of mistake—"

"There is no mistake," he cuts me off. "Danse is a synth—a monstrosity of technology. Which leaves me facing the most difficult order I've ever given." Please, no. "I'm ordering you to hunt down Danse, and execute him."

"…If you think I'm going to kill him, you're a fool…"

"That was an order, Knight. I expect you to follow it. There is no other option—no debate. There mustn't be any exceptions. Even if it means we have to execute one of our own.

"I'm not blind to the fact that he is your mentor and this will be a cumbersome burden to bear. But this is the reason I am telling you to do it. It will help the Brotherhood remain strong—help you remain strong. Just remember this—a promotion is waiting upon your decision of disobeying or following through. But I expect you will do as you're told, Knight." He continues to look at me with a hard look in his eye, like he thinks I won't do it.

I decide my best shot is to play along with his game. I say a curt, "Yes, sir," then about-face, leaving the observation deck. I'm not able to think much into what just happened when Scribe Haylen bumps into me.

"Can we speak privately?" she asks. Seeing I'm about to decline, she says, "It's urgent… and about the matter at hand." Reluctantly, I nod and follow her to the flight deck, where, shockingly, there is only one guard on duty—save the Lancer near a Vertibird, clearly on break. When we are out of earshot, she spins and asks me, "You're not going to kill him, are you?" Her tone tells me she already knows my plans. When I shake my head, she sighs in relief. "I didn't think so. Listen. I know where he is—I think. You have to go warn him. If you don't do it, Maxson will just order someone else to do it!" She realizes her volume and clears her throat. Speaking quieter, "Please. For him, for me. You have to do something…"

"I will," I tell her. "Where do you think he is?"

"Listening Post Bravo. It's a little ways northeast of Bunker Hill."

"Thank you." I walk to the Lancer. "Can I get a lift to Bunker Hill? I have some business to attend to." Can't land too close to him…

When I make it to the place Haylen said he'd be, I'm greeted by a few active and very aggressive protectrons—earning a pretty bad laser burn on my arm in the process. Once they're down, I make my way into the room where Danse is. He's sitting on top of an old military trunk, looking down at the floor.

"I'm not surprised Maxson sent you. He never did like doing the dirty work himself." He looks up at me, his eyes full of desperation. "But, why you? Why not one of the Initiates? Someone who wouldn't think twice for a promotion…"

"He thinks it'll help strengthen me—or toughen me up, is what he was probably thinking…" I walk up to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He looks down again and kicks the truck with the heel of his boot a few times before responding. "I didn't even know myself." He looks up, intense anxiety in his features. "Can you even begin to fathom how I'm feeling? To find out that I'm something I've been taught to hate, to seek and destroy…

"When I first learned about it, I didn't know what to do. So, me being a soldier, my self-preservation kicked in. I just ran here straight away—I had to regroup and assess the situation. But, as soon as I made it here—as soon as I realized I'd gone AWOL—I knew I just made it worse. I should have just stayed on the Prydwen and accepted the inevitable." He jumps off of the trunk and takes a couple steps toward me. "Tell me. Does Maxson even want me alive?"

I take a deep breath. "No. He ordered me to execute you."

He nods. "Rightfully so. I need to be put down. It'd be better for everyone."

"No! It won't be—"

"I need to be the example, not the exception."

He puts his hands behind his back, and kneels to the ground—execution style—awaiting me to fulfill my order. "You don't understand, Danse," I say, kneeling on the ground in front of him—it's the only way he'll look at me. I look into his brown eyes—eyes that look back at me with the sad acceptance of death. "You clearly don't see how your death will affect the people around you."

"It doesn't matter. The entire Brotherhood knows my true identity now. They hate synths as much as I do. No doubt they'd kill me first chance they got."

"I'm not talking about them. I'm being more specific. What about your squad? Rhys, Haylen? …Me?" I look down at my hands and absentmindedly play with the ring on my finger. "Do you have any idea how your death will affect me?" I look back at his eyes, which are watching me play with my hands still. "I mean… I already lost my family. I can't afford to lose my mentor, too. My friend." He shifts his gaze back to my face, looking a bit shocked. "I couldn't cope, Danse. Maybe I'm being selfish. But right now… I don't care. I think I deserve to be a little selfish from time to time."

"…You do." He takes the BOS hood off his head and tosses it on the floor. "I never thought about that. I've been too busy thinking about what it meant to be what I am. I never put much thought into who I am, what I'd be taking away from those around me.

"You're right…" He sighs. "I need to hitch a ride back to the Capital Wasteland, get away from the Brotherhood altogether. I'm sorry I didn't realize this sooner. Thank you." He puts his hand on my arm—right where my laser burn is—earning a yelp from me. "What is it?" He takes his hand off right away.

"I got burned from one of those fricking protectrons outside."

"Oh. Sorry about setting those… I was expecting someone else to come for me." I nod once, my arm still stinging. "Here." He stands and moves to a nearby med kit. Bringing back a syringe of Med-X, a Stimpak, and some gauze, he sits on the floor and rolls my sleeve up. "Let me at least take care of it."

With the precision of a soldier used to combat, he injects the two medications and asks, "So, he did it, huh?"

I feel the Med-X hit me like a truck, making me go lightheaded for a minute, so I don't know what he means. "What?"

"MacCready." He nods his head to my left hand, as his own hands are full with gauze, wrapping my arm. "He finally popped the question, did he?"

"Oh." I look down at my hand, the lightheadedness still passing. "Yeah. Last night, actually. His son helped, which was, like, the best thing ever." I smile at the memory. Danse's face shows just a bit of shock, like he didn't know about Duncan. I continue, "Yeah, we just got back from DC—I mean, the Capital Wasteland—yesterday. That was where Duncan was, so we went and picked him up."

"Must have been a long trip by boat," he comments, finishing up the wrapping of the gauze.

"Not as long as I thought it'd be—couple days, really. So, we've been gone for about a week."

After we've been sitting here in silence for a minute, he suggests, "Well. I think we should head out. I need to get some things together before I go back to Rivet City. And I suggest you take leave for a week or so—make it seem like you need time for grief or whatever."

"Good idea. You can gather some stuff on Spectacle Island if you want—meet Duncan." He nods as we board the elevator to the surface.

"As I suspected." The clearly livid voice of Elder Maxson surprises me, and causes me to jump slightly.

Danse had walked through the door leading out of the bunker before I had, resulting in Maxson's ire. Once I walk out myself, I hear the Elder's rather loud puff of angry air.

"How dare you betray the Brotherhood—betray me!" Elder Maxson is looking directly at me, knowing his orders were all but ignored.

"It's not her fault, it's mine," Danse tries to deflect the blow directed at me.

"Quiet, synth!" This triggers me.

I step in front of Danse—subconsciously becoming a meat shied. "Hey! There's no need for rude behaviour!"

Maxson just chortles, mocking me. "'Rude behaviour?' That is not what I would consider rude. However, disobeying direct orders and keeping a monstrosity alive, is." He looks up to Danse's face. "Now step aside, Knight. I suppose I must finish what you refuse to."

He's about to take out a laser pistol when I've had enough. I stroll up to the leader of the Brotherhood and—considering our height difference—nearly break my neck looking up at his face. Surprised by my sudden action, he halts his weapon retrieval and gazes at my fuming expression, his eyes wide.

"Why do you want him dead so badly? Because he's a synth? I get that. But he's more than just a synth. He's more human than most people I know. He's helped me in distressing and great times of need. He's cared about me practically from day one—not caring about how inconvenient it was for him to check on me when I was under the weather, or to help with my own personal relationship." I raise my hand to show off the silver band on my finger. "He'll always be human to me—no matter what he's considered in your mind.

"And, if I may stretch it out a little further? In his less than shining hours, he still shows me that he is the real man here—the real human. All I see in front of me, is a coward—a brute who refuses to see that this man—" I gesture to Danse's form behind me, "has given blood, sweat, and tears for the Brotherhood—for your name! And you are just so willing to throw that out the window due to his being a machine? Does the Brotherhood not have a Mr. Gutsy in Scribe Neriah's lab? Have I not seen logs in the Brotherhood's terminals about the wish of acquiring P.A.M. from the Railroad? They are machines as well, and machines you are happy to have onboard. If the only difference is that Danse looks human—if that is the matter at hand—that is a stupid reason."

"Are you saying you care about synths?" Maxson asks me.

"I'm saying that I care about this synth. He has done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment. And I refuse to see him put to death for doing nothing other than serving the Brotherhood faithfully for years on end."

Maxson is still looking down at me, my body no further than two feet from his own, due to my stomping up to him so aggressively. "You're a stubborn woman." He now glances up at Danse. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead. You were perused and slain by this Brotherhood Knight, your remains incinerated. You are not allowed to step aboard the Prydwen again, ever. And know that if you happen across any Brotherhood soldier, you will be shot on sight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes. Thank you, Arthur."

"Don't mistake my mercy for acceptance. The only reason you're still alive," he points to me, still a couple feet from him, "is because of her." He glances down at me, taking a small step backward. "Meet me on the Prydwen soon. We still have to Institute to deal with." He looks at Danse, then me once more, and goes back to his Vertibird.

I'm so shocked I actually convinced him, I'm speechless. When the aircraft is no longer in sight, Danse walks up behind me. Turning to him, I see a small smile on his face.

"Thank you, Beth. For believing in me. We both could have died so easily back there." I realize he's right and just nod. "But…" He steps closer and gives me a hug. An actual hug. "We didn't, thanks to you."

Finally able to speak, I add in, "Maybe because of me. I was just trying to distract him, honestly."

He chuckles after stepping back. "A distraction, huh? Seemed like more than that to me. Seemed like your lawyer side kicked in, and that's how you won my case." I laugh a little. "He's never been challenged before, and I don't think you realize how intimidating you can be." He laughs again. "The look in his eyes when you practically charged him. Who knew such a small woman could scare such a big man. Kind of like a tiny bull charging a matador." He gasps. "That's a good name," he whispers.

"Oh, boy." I hang my head.

"You are no longer Beth. From now on, you shall be called Tiny Bull."

"Are you serious?"

"Yup.

"Oh, boy," I repeat. "Well, anyway. Let's get a move on. Spectacle Island isn't close. And I really wanna be home. Have all your stuff?"

"Yes." He indicates a rucksack hanging off his shoulder. "I don't have much to call mine now, so this is it. I can find some new power armour later."

"You alright with swimming?" I ask. "The boat got left there this morning."

"Yeah, that's fine, Tiny Bull."

I just groan as we start our long trek.

"At least I don't have a suit to have gotten wet," Danse says as he lays his laser rifle down on the back patio to dry out. He'd told me in the past that water isn't the best for them, but once they out, they should be fine. Since it's late evening, he'll have to wait for the sun tomorrow.

"Yeah. You left your T-60 on the Prydwen?" I ask him.

"I did. I'm no longer representing the Brotherhood, so why have it?"

"Who's not representing the Brotherhood?" Robert asks as he walks onto the patio where Danse and I still stand. He sees Danse and looks to me with a confused face.

I sigh. "We have some things to talk about." I motion us all into the living room, where we sit—Danse next to me, and Robert across from us. I notice Danse is looking down, seemingly shy, but almost looking a little shamefaced.

"What's going on?" Robert breaks the silence after a minute of us sitting quietly.

I look to Danse, who I assume would tell the story himself. Instead, he still looks down, a bit beaten. So, I decide to tell it. Coming out straightforward, "Danse has been exiled from the Brotherhood."

Robert looks shocked. "What? Why?" He glances to the man on my right.

"Honestly, it's a lot better then what could have happened… What would have." I steal another look to the ex-Paladin. "Maxson wanted him dead. He almost killed him… since I refused to execute him myself."

Surprisingly, Danse lowers his head even more, gripping it in his hands as he moves his elbows to his knees. Speaking quietly, "She could have gotten killed, too. For not following through with a direct order from an Elder. Thankfully, she's good with words."

Robert stands up suddenly. "What the hell happened? What could have possibly put you two to death?" He looks directly at me. "Beth?"

I look at his concerned face, then to Danse, who nods his head once, signaling me to go ahead and tell Robert. I'm not sure how he'll react, so I take my time, trying to figure out how to put it. I take a deep breath, and as before, just say it.

"Danse is a synth."

For several seconds, Robert just looks at me with a straight face. Then, his brows scrunch. After a good minute—and from the expression on his face, a lot of thought—he asks, "What?" He looks to the person in question, as if for the first time. "Is she for real?"

Danse is still looking at the floor, although now, he is leaning against the back of his armchair. "Afraid so, MacCready."

"No," Robert says, being stubborn about it. "You sleep, eat, think like a human. You bleed, for God's sake."

"It doesn't matter. They created the Gen 3 synths to replicate humans. I'd say they did a good job, considering I only found out my true identity yesterday."

I chime in, "The Brotherhood called me to the Prydwen as soon as they found out. It's true." Robert's just standing there, shaking his head, like he can't believe his ears, or like we're lying.

"Robert," Danse addresses him. He snaps his head up fast, as Danse had never called him by his first name before. "It's not a lie. I am a synth, created by the Institute. I'm sorry, but that's just the truth of it. I don't like it any more than you do. Imagine how long it took for me to believe it."

"I'm not saying it isn't true… It's just hard to wrap my head around." Robert takes his seat again. "I see why Maxson wanted you dead now."

Danse and I both launch into the full of the day's events, explaining how I'd managed to convince him to stay in the Commonwealth—on the island with us, more specifically—and Danse was more than thrilled to tell the tale of how I "made Maxson's tail go between his legs," and all that. We also discuss future arrangements, including the construction of a house for Danse not too far from Curie's. All I know is that we must have gotten loud, as I hear small patter from above us, then coming down the stairs.

Although he looks tired, Duncan sees me and runs toward me, jumping in my lap and giving me a big hug. "Did we wake you?" Seeing Danse—a stranger—he just nods. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "I'm glad to see you. I had to leave pretty early, huh?" He nods again, glancing over at the new person. "Gosh, I'm being rude. Duncan, this is our friend, Danse. I used to work with him on the big airship north of here." I give the boy a small squeeze as I look to Danse. "This is Duncan, Robert's son. We just got back from picking him up in the Capital Wasteland a day or so ago."

Once Danse makes eye contact, Duncan looks away, uttering a shy, "Hi."

"Hello," Danse responds. Then, silence. "Sorry, I'm not very good with kids. Especially with… how old is he?"

Robert tells him, "Five, almost six."

"Wow. Yeah. The only kids I've been around were squires of about ten years and up."

"It's okay," Robert laughs. "It just takes a little bit of time to get used to it. Beth has handled it really well." He looks to me with a smile, making me chuckle.

"I suppose so," Danse agrees. "With the way he was so excited to see her, I would assume."

"Well, yeah. She's my mom," Duncan says suddenly, making all three of our heads turn in his direction. "I missed her today. I was surprised when I woke up and Dad said she had to go to work."

Danse looks to Robert, then to me. "I thought you said he was his…"

"He is," I clarify. "I'm his stepmom, but he just calls me Mom."

Robert expands. "His mother passed when he was almost two. It's been about four and a half years now, I guess. He doesn't remember her very well."

Duncan pats my arm wrapped around him. "But I have a new mom now, so it all worked out." He smiles at me, then at Danse. "I like her a lot."

"You sure do, buddy," Robert says, grinning himself.

Danse took the couch that night, and we all gathered materials for his house the following morning—even Duncan helped a little bit, carrying a box of nails or announcing if we were about to whack one another in the head with the boards we carried. The house ended up being erected and complete within a couple weeks—considering two of the five people working on it were women, and one was a child, we were all surprised at the speed it was finished.

Leaving Danse and Curie behind on the island, Robert, Duncan, and myself decided to pay a visit to Diamond City a couple days after the construction of Danse's house was complete. We bought ammo for our rifles, as well as a toy truck Duncan could not take his eyes off of. Robert had mocked me, telling me I told you so when he explained how spoiled I was making Duncan already. I just shook it off as we headed to the Detective Agency.

"A doggie!" Duncan shouts as he sees Dogmeat, completely forgetting his new toy and bounding for the canine in a flash. Dogmeat licks his face as he drops to his knees, making the boy produce a long round of giggles.

Nick smiles when he sees us. "Ellie's gonna be sad she missed you. She has the day off." He looks to Duncan. "Been a while," he says, continuing to stare at the child on his floor, still laughing from Dogmeat's tongue assault. "What made you come all this way? I heard you live on Spectacle Island now."

"Who told you that?" I ask, not remembering if I told him about the move or not.

"Oh, just a little bird. Stealthy, featherless, and hates the sun in his eyes." He smiles, knowing we know exactly who he means.

"We've been pretty busy," I say, thinking back to the last time I saw the synth detective. "Man, things have really changed."

As Duncan continues to play with Dogmeat, Robert and I tell Nick everything we'd been up to in the last months. From building our house, to burying Nate, to finding Shaun, to my near-death experience in Vault 81, to Curie and Danse living on the island, and all the way to having Duncan home with us now.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Nick asks me, staring at my lap, where Duncan now sits—or rather, half lays—as he sleeps from "playing too hard with the doggie."

"I don't think so?" I look to Robert, who looks confused also.

"Your hand, doll?" I take my hand away from holding Duncan up, nearly making him fall over in the process. After he adjusts himself, I look to my appendage. "Your ring!" Nick says, laughing. "How can you forget to tell such news?"

I feel dumb now. "Wow, I feel stupid," I say out loud. "I guess so much has gone on, and we've been going nonstop for so long now. Guess I'm worn out." I laugh. "Yeah. He proposed to me a couple weeks ago, with the help of this little one. It was the best." I look to my fiancé—wow, haven't thought of him as that yet—and pat him on the cheek opposite me, earning a smile.

"Look at you," Nick says. "Just months ago, you were barely clinging on. Now… you have a family—a life. I'm so proud of you, kiddo." I look to the boy in my lap, my soonish-to-be husband, Dogmeat—who we'd decided to take home with us for Duncan—and feel a swelling in my heart.

"I know, Nick. I know. I couldn't ask for more, huh?"

A/N: Due to finals at the time of writing this—as well as a mental brain blockage of knowing what I wanted to write, just not how to write it—this chapter ended up marking the beginning of my downward slant in this fic. I still enjoyed writing it, but because I'd taken a month off before starting it up again, I felt as if the quality of my story lacked a bit. I hope it will still be satisfactory enough to continue reading. But if you do see a difference, and want to let me know, please don't hesitate.