CHAPTER 15
Confronted

The hammering of fists against metal woke him from his daze.

He couldn't call it a nap. Napping required actual sleep, and Danse could barely remember the last time that had happened.

His head pounded as he swung his legs over the side of his bunk. The world spun and blood rushed. He pressed his eyes closed.

More hammering. The doorframe shuddered.

Danse pushed himself to his feet and eyed the vial of Med-X sitting on his desk. He'd found it in his bag as he unpacked. Haylen's doing, he suspected.

He'd eventually told her about the headaches, not the full extent, but he'd said enough to raise concern apparently. Initially he had decided that there was no value in distracting the medic while his squad suffered heavy casualties, but the pain had finally become too much for him to hide. She'd clocked that he wasn't sleeping much, something he so diligently tried to conceal. And then she'd clocked that something else wasn't quite right as well.

"You push yourself too hard," she'd said with a gentle smile after he'd allowed her to examine him. "You're only human, Danse. Remember that."

He knocked the Med-X into the waste bin.

He didn't need it, he told himself. He wasn't that weak.

He opened the door.

A figure rushed past, smelling of iodine and iron. Danse instantly sobered and faced the intruder.

Grey's chest heaved as she stood by his bed, body tense and tattered. All he could see was damage. The bloodied gauze taped across her ribs, flight suit stained red and sliced apart. The left side of her hair was matted with oxidized blood. Some of it had dried along her scalp and neck, disappearing beneath her collar. Her cheek was lightly shadowed, and he could see where the bruises had been before a Stimpak had been applied.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't remember her being harmed. He'd thought she'd been covered. Protected.

He thought he'd done his job.

"What game are you playing?"

He blinked, taken aback. "I'm sorry, soldier, wh—"

"No," she snapped. "No solider-this, no Knight-that. Talk to me like a goddamn person and tell me what game you're playing here."

The gauze tightened with each laboured breath, tape pulling at the pale skin stretched along her ribs.

He didn't understand.

"There isn't a game, Kni—"

Her green eyes bore into him. He could see the distrust. The distain.

"I don't know what you've been told, or what you think, but no one is playing a game here." He tried to carefully take a step toward her, but he could see how her body tensed, resulting in a step back.

"Right," she said with a weary laugh. "Of course you aren't playing a game. Those energy signals you were investigating? It's not like I told you what their origin and purpose was. It's not like I gave you the answer you so desperately sought. Except I did." Her eyes darkened. "I gave you critical intel, and then you just so happen to not pass it onto your commanding officer? Give me a fucking break."

So that's what this was about. If she'd just let him explain—

"And if that wasn't rich enough, it then comes to light you've been reactivating old ops. Ones relevant to the one godforsaken place you know I need to go." She threw up her hands. "So what am I supposed to think? That you still have my back? That your 'promise' to help me find my son was worth more than any other falsity and lie?"

"It wasn't a lie."

She laughed again, the sound cruel and mocking. "Right. Of course. Then let's have it. Come on, Paladin. Tell me what's really going on here. Tell me why it was okay to tell Maxson my son is missing but not okay to tell him Institute operatives can teleport onto his ship at any fucking second and blow him and his soldiers to kingdom come."

So that's what this was about.

He'd exposed her and she was feeling vulnerable, lashing out at the source of the leak. Lashing out to get back some semblance of control.

"The Prydwen is safe, Knight."

Her brow furrowed.

"Before you returned to us, we'd already made contact with the Citadel back in the Capital Wasteland. Even though we didn't know the nature of the signals, we knew the frequency and we suspected the source. As such, the Brotherhood were advised to use cautionary counter measures should they enter the Commonwealth. The Prydwen herself is fitted with an electromagnetic shield, making us impervious to hostile signals and broadcasts. So if the Institute wants on, they'll have to board us the old fashioned way. And, as you can imagine, they'd be in for one hell of a fight."

Quiet consideration was his reward. Her eyes were still sharp, critically watching, assessing, but he didn't expect much else. Danse knew little of the world before the war. Sure, there were some salvaged archives, broken artifacts, faded photos and paintings, but it had never seemed real. Cities without rubble, coastlines bathed in green, store shelves lined with fresh packets of food—he couldn't visualize it.

What he could see was how differently Grey's mind worked. She didn't think like a wastelander or a scavver. She didn't think like a soldier either, or a raider. She wasn't observant of her environment, but she was observant of people. Was that what her world was like? One where the biggest threat was other people's intentions and not their actions? He wanted to ask her, but it wasn't the time. He wondered if it ever would be.

"As for who you are and what you told me…" He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "I know you told me those things in confidence. And I broke that confidence. But you have to understand, it was the only way I could get you aboard the Prydwen."

Grey doubted that, but she continued to listen.

"The Brotherhood is incredibly selective of the recruits it accepts, and recruiting during a time of recon and conflict, it's… frowned upon. Typically you'd serve as an Initiate for a number of months before being field tested and promoted. But…"

You were helpful. You were needed. No, you were wanted.

"But I was down half my squad, and you were the most viable option. That and you knew the Commonwealth. It was an advantage we'd need, hence my recommendation that you be fast tracked to Knight."

"You still haven't explained why you told Maxson about Shaun."

"Because my request was going to be rejected."

Grey knit her brow. "What?"

"The circumstances were irrelevant. You could have single-handedly retrieved the transmitter from ArkJet and they still would have asked you to serve your time as Initiate and be properly inducted into the fold." He broke eye contact, voice quieting. "That night on the roof, I was trying to find a way to tell you that, despite my recommendation, you were unlikely to get a promotion once we docked. But then, what you told me... I knew my instincts were right about you, and I knew you'd be an asset to us. I also knew Elder Maxson would agree."

"You could have asked. Explained what was going on."

Yes, he could of. But he didn't, and even now he wasn't sure why.

"If it helps, I operated on the principle of least harm. I radioed ahead and submitted an addendum to my report. I told them you were a Vault dweller and that you'd been tracking the Institute for personal reasons. I told them you were smart and resourceful and knew the terrain. And, initially, it was sufficient."

"Except Maxson knew there was more."

He had. He'd come to Danse after the address, exchanging greetings and commendations. But only so much small talk could be forced before the question was asked: "So, why have we actually recruited her, Paladin?"

"He doesn't know you were frozen," Danse said lowly. "Just that the Institute killed your husband and abducted your son."

A parent looking to save their child, a lover out for revenge—all good motives and drivers. The kind of motivation Maxson could understand from his time with Lyons, from his time with the Lone Wanderer. Or at least Danse had banked on that. Fortunately, he wasn't wrong.

"That still doesn't explain why you kept critical intel to yourself."

Hadn't it? Didn't she understand? Except the words didn't come as he tried to explain, because he himself didn't understand it. He didn't yet understand that everything he did, he did for her.

"I assessed it unwise to start a panic until your intel could be corroborated," he said sternly.

Grey didn't believe that; her expression told him as much, but she didn't challenge him. At least not on that.

"And the old op, how do you plan to explain that away?"

Her words made him uncomfortable. He felt exposed somehow, and he wasn't sure why. He hadn't seen this side to her before. Previously she'd seemed either task-focused or cautiously curious. Her eyes were fixed on him though, green irises glinting like those of a savage mutt. His instincts told him there was danger there, but he couldn't reason why.

"When we spoke on the roof two nights ago, something you said about the Glowing Sea… it reminded me of a briefing I'd read before my squad set out for the Commonwealth several months back. Something related to Recon Squad Artemis."

Grey's gaze narrowed. "Artemis?"

"I believe I mentioned it the night we met. That my team wasn't the first to be sent to the Commonwealth. The last squad went in three years ago." Danse paused, expression solemn. "They never reported back. Officially, they're missing—presumed dead."

"Was there a rescue mission?"

Danse shook his head. "No. The Brotherhood doesn't have the resources or the manpower to conduct a search like that. Everyone who signs up for a recon mission knows the risks. Our lives depend on our training and each other. But if a team is lost, we honour those who give their lives in the line of duty."

"I don't see what this has to do with the Glowing Sea," Grey said bluntly.

"Like Gladius, Artemis was tasked with investigating the Commonwealth and searching for valuable and dangerous technologies. Artemis had a secondary objective, however: surveying the Commonwealth, including the Glowing Sea."

Something flickered across her face, only for a moment. He couldn't discern what it was, but it stirred something in him. Something hopeful.

"As Brotherhood soldiers, we have a responsibility to find out what happened to them, if we can. That's why I spoke to Maxson. Officially, we couldn't go looking for them without a direct order. But if there's a chance they're alive, there's a chance they have information on the Glowing Sea. Maybe even a map."

He could see her mind at work, expression morphing and head tilting. But then it stopped and her face sobered. "It's been three years, Danse. They could be anywhere by now."

They could be dead.

He knew that. Of course he knew that. That's why the operation had been inactive all this time. Presumed dead until there was evidence to the contrary. But Artemis was their only lead. No matter how determined Maxson was to find the Institute, not even he would risk his chapter's lives by blindly scouring the Glowing Sea. It was a fool's task, and he couldn't endanger his men like that. He wouldn't.

"Their inception point was in the hills, near Malden," Danse said assuredly. "We can ship out tomorrow morning, survey the area, and establish a search pattern. There may be a chance…" He didn't finish that thought.

Grey pressed a hand to her eyes and dropped to his bed, one leg curled up underneath her.

He took a tentative step toward her, again unsure.

Her mouth twisted into a smile as she removed her hand, eyes focused on the metal ceiling above.

"I was so fucking sure," she uttered, "so sure you were trying to screw me over or that you had your own agenda or some nonsense."

She met his gaze, her eyes having lost their previous ferocity. "But you're not that kind of person, are you?"

He didn't know how to answer that, didn't know if he should even try.

"Sometimes," she said wistfully, "I forget that not everyone is like me. Sometimes… Well." She shrugged, pushing herself back to her feet. She walked toward him then, standing before him and lightly cocking her head. She lifted her hand as if she were to reach for him, elegant fingers extending. He could all but feel the flutter of them against his cheek, but she pulled away, folding her fingers into her palm.

"You're a good man, Paladin, and don't let me ever tell you otherwise."

Only as the metal door shut behind him did he exhale.

Tentatively he lifted his hand to his face, still feeling the ghost of her nails on his skin. A shiver ran down his spine and his gut churned hollow.

He didn't know what to make of her. Didn't know where to start.

Even as he laid back on his bunk and buried his head in his pillow, flashes of her danced through his mind. The curve of her mouth, the harrowed glint to her eye. Her cold yet compelling stance. And then there was her mind, its complexities, its workings, its thoughts. Untrusting, conniving, determined.

He wasn't sure if he was frightened of her or impressed.

And that, he realized, was the problem.