#never enough Prydwen shot

[shatinn]

Fallout4 - The Prydwen

[veshialles]

The legacy of the Enclave’s Duraframe Eyebot experiments, Charlie was commissioned and constructed by the Brotherhood of Steel (Capital Wasteland Chapter) alongside 25 other units supplied to the Prydwen for their mission in The Commonwealth. All were named for the NATO alphabet from the Old World.

During a patrol in the Lexington area, Charlie was swarmed by feral ghouls and nearly ripped plate from plate, rendering him unable to return to base at the Boston Airport. He was eventually recovered by Valerie Chisholm and brought back to her workshop for repairs. As a newly inducted member of the Brotherhood at the time, Valerie attempted to return him, but Charlie refused to leave her side. Over time, and with Charlie’s permission, Valerie began adding some touch ups of her own: cleaning and polishing his plates, repainting his grill, improving firepower, adjusting thrusters, and tying a little bow around his gun. From then onward, Charlie remained a loyal and near constant companion of hers, seen traveling with her even years after the end of the Institute War.

Of course, Charlie’s journey technically began in 2277, when the Enclave’s struggle against the Brotherhood of Steel halted eyebot production in favour of the Hellfire Power Armour project. Eyebot Duraframe Subject E was sent west to Navarro, but never arrived at its destination, as ED-E was shot down by raiders and left for scrap in the Mojave Wasteland. It was only by chance that a courier happened upon it, and brought it to his shop to attempt repairs. It laid there until 2281, when another courier, a woman named Jess Barker, happened upon it and was able to finish the repairs and enabled ED-E’s companion protocols.

After weeks of traveling together, ED-E began malfunctioning, spewing classified data, enough to gain the attention of the Brotherhood of Steel’s Mojave Chapter, who persuaded Jess to bring ED-E in for thorough examination, offering to repair the malfunction and upgrading ED-E’s armour plating in exchange. As a result, in the mid-2280s, when Arthur Maxson began efforts to reestablish contact with the Outcasts and the other lost chapters of the Brotherhood Of Steel, the Mojave Chapter sent the Duraframe Eyebot schematics data to the Capital Wasteland along with their other research.

Thus, Charlie and the other Brotherhood Duraframe Eyebots were born built.

(pictured; B-DE’s Alpha and Bravo)

[thornfield13713]

Well. That's the end of that.

I do regret that, unlike with the Institute, there was no way to give some sort of evacuation order - at least enough to get the squires out. On the other hand, for the vertibirds to hit so soon after the Prydwen fell suggests that they had some advance warning, particularly as the Prydwen appears to have landed on the airport, so the vertibirds have to have left before it hit the ground. I'm not exactly sure how long that would take. The Hindenburg disaster took only thirty seconds, but it was coming in to land at the time, while the Prydwen was fully airborne.

Even with the chance for an evacuation, however, I suspect the Brotherhood would have gone on the attack first. The squires are still military personnel, so far as the Brotherhood are concerned, after all. And probably there were at least a few on all the vertibirds I've had to shoot down recently after they started taking potshots at any settlement Georgia happened to be in.

I do like this shot, though. I keep thinking of this moment in terms of that shot in Dune, of Paul braced for impact, silhouetted against the desert. She owed it to them to watch, at least. To bear witness.

I do want to headcanon in a brief period of attempted diplomacy between the fall of the Institute and that of the Prydwen, though. One that falls apart very quickly, due to the double problem that a) the Brotherhood aren't planning to leave anytime soon even now the Institute is gone and b) Georgia was spying on them for some months for both the Railroad and the Minutemen, and that's not something easily forgiven. Sending a spy might've been, but going herself? Definitely not.

And, you know, her personality clashes with Maxson himself don't help either, because she's never quite been able to fully disguise that she doesn't think much of him, and that just gets more obvious when they have to have a prolonged conversation rather than him just barking orders. Nor does it help matters that her justification for the spying is most likely that a) she had an in already and b) she wasn't going to ask any of her men to do something she wouldn't. It's hard not to be very pointed indeed about saying that, given that, all game, despite all the Brotherhood stories of his heroics, Maxson has only left the Prydwen once, and that in a situation that posed very little risk to him, and has otherwise delegated all the dirty work to his subordinates, which isn't something Georgia has much patience for.

So, diplomacy is attempted, and fails at the first hurdle, and then there are attacks on Minutemen settlements (coincidentally, the first place I got shot at by vertibirds was the Slog, which seems...appropriate, given the Brotherhood stance on ghouls), and that's when shooting down the Prydwen becomes a firm plan, and work begins on getting everything in place to do it.

And here we are, at the end of it. Just the DLC left to do.

[satans-left-asscheeky]

more child sole lmao how would the companions react to kid sole just. fuckin biting someone. in self-defense, yeah, but there are still several other ways they could defend themselves they just choose teeth

Maccready

"No! We don't put anything but food in our mouths. Okay?"

As a parent it's a conversation he's had many times, usually when Duncan tried to eat a comic book or stuffing from his teddy bear, so sole bitting into a raider was new territory for him he'll admit. He's hoping the same parenting technique works, because truth be told he's exhausted and out of ideas.

Hancock

"Now I'm not sure if I took psycho and just don't remember it, or if you did... either way this might sound hypocritical coming from me, but you are way to young for drugs...."

Once they had told him no they were not on his chems he would talk to them about why it's not okay to go feral ghoul on people and just take a chomp outta them.... Truth be told he'd done it a few times, but like he said he's a hypocrite, and he was trying to set a good example here.

Cait

"That's it! Make em' pay!"

Its a good thing sole was prewar. Cait had seen her for share of people bite off more than they can chew and ending up losing a tooth. Dental care isn't exactly great in the wastes, but this little shit has teeth of steel perfect for chomping and chomp they shall.

Danse

"Absolutely not acceptable soldier! You are part of the brotherhood, not a common scavver, you can't go around biting people."

He'd sound like an angry dad the entire time. He'd lecture sole the whole way back to the prydwen/police station about ethics and what is and isn't acceptable in hand to hand combat

Curie

"While I know you were in quite the pickle there, please do not bite people! You could get many unwanted diseases"

Shes very concerned about soles health both mental and physical, but for the moment she's more concerned about them becoming ill, and is to stunned to try and tackle the mental this very instant.

Deacon

"I'm guessing you're a little behind on your rabies shots? Did you know rabies is one of the most deadly illnesses? Its said once you start experiencing symptoms its already to late..... welp guess you're screwed"

If he had successfully spooked sole with the rabies lie he'd call it a day, but if they rolled their eyes and didn't belive him he'd keep trying to sell them the whole rabies thing until he felt they were efficiently scared. He's of the opinion if someone traumatizes you, you traumatize them right back. He never though a child could creep him out this much, but holy shit being bitten by a crazed child was now on deacons top 10 fears list. Safe to say he's either sleeping with one eye open, or duck taping the little piranha's mouth shut before bed.

Piper

"Blue! We do not bite people... If they weren't already dead I'd consider making you apologize! Now please for the love of everything, spit that out"

She'd be disgusted. Did Sole know where that had been? And if they did, did they really want it in their mouth? Yuck.

Nick

"Now why would you do that... I cant imagine commonwealth cuisine could ever taste good let alone raw....come on let's get you cleaned up... got a bit of raider stuck in your teeth"

Maniacal beeping is one thing, but chewing down on some low lives is another, beyond the part where it's just plain gross its also not the most morally sound way of dealing with threats either...

Preston

"Uhhh you've got blood.... in your teeth?"

A child going feral was not apart of what he had planned today give him a minute to ground himself. Preston's internally freaking out, because what the fuck just happened!?

X6-88

"That was lazy Sir/Ma'am. Next time you get close enough to bite someone, try sticking your thumbs in their eye socket instead... trust me it's far more effective.... and far more satisfying"

He's done it before...

[wehavebiggerproblems]

Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project. 

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing. 

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances. 

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy. 

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's. 

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though. 

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally. 

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour. 

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig. 

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be  considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works. 

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back. 

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters. 

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization. 

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo. 

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes. 

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole. 

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel  nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper. 

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible. 

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy. 

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine. 

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him. 

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach. 

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior. 

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate. 

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon. 

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute. 

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him. 

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children. 

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it. 

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week. 

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately. 

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office. 

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped. 

-And then the radiation sickness took over. 

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most. 

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.) 

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Holding hands with Sole for the first time.

Request: "Hey I took a look at your other two stories and they're really good :D I can't wait to see more from you. ☺️ Could you do how the companions react to holding hands with sole for the first time? And could you make it extra fluffy for x6-88, preston, and hancock please? ❤️"

CW: Food mentions. Idk why so many of these involved food.

Cait:

“Hey! Watch it, will ya’?” Cait shouted indignantly at a passing trader as their Brahmin nearly knocked her over.

Sole reached out and pulled her back swiftly, her hand gripped tightly in theirs to help her keep balance. “Careful. They don’t tend to share the road around here. Important people, traders.” They joked, threading their fingers through hers.

“Important my arse.” Cait glared menacingly after the trader before redirecting their attention. “And what do ya think you’re doin’?” She lifted their joined hands, however she didn’t let go.

“Oh, sorry! I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your balance.”

Sole began to loosen their grip, but Cait tightened her grip in return. “Well don’t go gettin’ cold feet on me now. You started this.” 

Sole very politely ignored the slight flush on her cheeks as she began to pull them towards the food stands. “You’re buyin’ in exchange for my lovely company.”

Curie:

While it could be quite cute, Curie’s habit of wandering off in the name of scientific discovery had resulted in far too many moments of Sole having to stop what they were doing and go search for her and whatever had caught her attention in the moment as soon as they realized she was gone. Luckily, this time, Curie exclaimed, “Oh, mon dieu!”

This caught Sole’s attention and they quickly grasped her hand to keep her from wandering off. “Let’s go let Daisy know we’ve done what she’s asked and then we can go check out the water purification system, okay?”

“Oh! Of course.” Curie smiled warmly, interlocking their fingers properly. “Lead the way!”

After a beat, as they made their way to Daisy’s shop together, Curie spoke again, her tone softer and a shy smile on her face. “I quite like this system of keeping track of each other, I think.”

“I do, too. Do you want to stop by Diamond City for Power Noodles after asking about the water purification system?”

“Yes, please! I’d like to ask the vendor about the components to his operation.”

Danse:

Sole groaned, facedown on their bed on the Prydwen. “Let’s get a move on, Soldier. Elder Maxson himself requested you transfer shifts to the first patrol.”

“It’s four in the morning, Paladin. I appreciate Elder Maxson’s faith but I reserve my right to complain when he’s not around.”

Danse frowned from where he was standing in the doorway. “You should consider this an honor.”

“I do, Danse. Of course I do. But four in the morning?” Sole attempted to roll over and stand up, but instead got their legs tangled in the blanket and fell to the floor.

He sighed, staring down at them in mild disappointment. “Would you like assistance getting up?”

“Yes please.” 

Danse crossed the room and leaned down, grasping Sole’s outstretched arms and staring sternly at their pouting face. He pulled them up carefully, steadying them when they stumbled as they untangled themself from their blanket. “You slept in your uniform.” He stated plainly.

“I had to wake up at four as it is. I’m doing what I can. Adapt, right? I’m following your advice, Paladin. Now let’s go get breakfast, please, I’m starving.”

The pair made it halfway down the hall before Danse realized that Sole had never released their grip on his hand. His face flushed beet red as they led the way to the dining hall, the pathways empty. They seemed to be the only ones awake. “Soldier-” He coughed awkwardly. “-your hand?”

Sole slowed down and glanced at him. “Do you mind?”

He paused. “Proceed.” He said in a low tone, avoiding eye contact.

Deacon:

Deacon was quiet. Deacon was never quiet, unless they were in the middle of a fight, and even then usually he was making witty comments in between gunshots. He and Sole were trekking across the Commonwealth, headed to Sanctuary to rest after running to hell and back for the Railroad. “Alright, Deacon. What gives?” Sole stopped and turned to him.

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet.”

“I’ll have you know I make a great brooding, mysterious stranger.” Deacon gave them an indignant look.

“Yeah, when you’re undercover maybe. But not with me. So what’s up?”

Deacon sighed and gave in, surprising Sole. Usually, no matter how long they pushed, he remained steeled in his self-confidence and energetic personality. “Just a long day, Boss. Don’t worry about it.” He started walking, letting them know the conversation was over with.

Sole pressed their lips together briefly before jogging to catch up with him and grabbing his hand, swinging it dramatically between the two. Deacon laughed quietly and allowed them to continue their antics. “You know, if you wanted to hold my hand you could’ve just asked, Boss.”

Cheerfully, Sole bumped their shoulder against his. “Where’s the fun in that? Plus, I got you to laugh, didn’t I?”

Deacon groaned. “My facade, it’s shattered!” He cried dramatically as he pretended to stumble. Sole threw their head back and laughed, and Deacon hid his grin.

“This is a very serious issue, Boss, I can’t believe your lack of professionalism.”

“Oh, of course, I’m so very sorry Deacon. Let me know what we can do to solve this issue and I’ll let go of your hand. To keep up professionalism.”

Deacon never got back to them on that, and kept his fingers threaded through theirs the entire way back to Sanctuary.

Gage:

“Look, I’m all for your gung ho attitude of dealing with things, but we’re outnumbered by those things. As much as it hurts to say, we shouldn’t run in guns ablaze.” Gage muttered under his breath.

He and Sole were crouched against a wall in the Nuka World Bottling Plant, up to their waists in diluted soda that had definitely been there way too long. A good handful of Mirelurks had nested just around the corner; Sole could hear them clicking their pinchers together. “You’re right.” Sole sighed. “We need a plan to get back to the exit.”

Gage was still surprised every time the Overboss took his advice seriously. “We’re cornered here, Boss. Unless you have some Stealth Boys on you-”

“Do you trust me?” Sole interjected.

“Christ, I guess so. What’re you thinkin’?”

“When I count to three we run.”

“What? That’s your fuckin’ plan?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I swear to God, if you get us killed.” Gage muttered. “Alright, fine.”

Sole counted under their breath, just loud enough for Gage to hear, as they attempted to avoid the echo that the large tunnels would cause. As soon as they reached three, both they and Gage took off in a sprint, fighting against the soda-water that threatened to slow them down. Things were going great until Gage’s foot caught against something under the water and sent him face first into the river.

As soon as he hit the water he was back up again, Sole yanking him as hard as possible up and forward at their breakneck pace. “I’ve got you!” They shouted over the angry screeches from the Mirelurks that had just caught sight of them.

Sole grappled at his hand until they found purchase and kept charging forward. They sent a shot towards an approaching Mirelurk and the bullet lodged firmly in the Mirelurk’s body. This bought them enough time to get a few feet ahead and after a brief struggle with the sticky door mechanism, the pair launched themself past the frame and slammed the door behind them.

Chests heaving, they leaned against the metal door, eyes squinted to ward off the blazing sun that glared down at them. “I fuckin’ hate this place.” Gage spat saliva and soda down onto the cracked pavement in front of them.

Sole merely laughed. Gage turned to them in astonishment, wondering just how batshit the new Overboss really was, but said nothing, his hand still gripped in theirs. Their eyes were closed as their shoulders shook, their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath. “I do too, to be honest. Hated it ever since that stupid maze.”

Gage paused and let out a small chuckle himself. He shook off their hand as casually as he could, but turned and reached to light a cigarette to hide the way his mouth quirked up in the corner. He dug through the bag attached to his hip before cursing loudly. “My shit’s soaked!”

Sole only laughed louder.

Hancock:

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Running Goodneighbor.” Hancock’s voice came out gravelly.

He and Sole had found a rooftop to settle on after travelling for the day. They had found a couple of lounge chairs and dragged them up the flights of stairs, and told Hancock to sit while they unpacked enough food for dinner. Luckily, they had traded for a few Radstag steaks, which they had started grilling over a makeshift fire. Hancock’s statement caught their attention enough for them to stop what they were doing. “What do you mean?” They asked.

Hancock wasn’t sure if he was too high for his own good, but he swore their voice was softer when they spoke to him, compared to the assertiveness they used for everyone else. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed them. The fire flickered, a bright, warm contrast to the setting sun behind them. “Dunno. I just worry that I’m gettin’ a little top stern with everyone. Goodneighbor isn’t meant to be another Diamond City.”

They thought for a moment, their eyebrows creased. Hancock couldn’t help the way he smiled as he watched them turn the steaks over contemplatively. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Always, sweetheart.”

Sole suppressed their own smile. “I think a good leader would listen to his people and their opinions. A great leader goes out and gains perspective to truly understand what they go through and where they’re coming from. You do both, so I think that makes you a fantastic leader.” They stood from where they were crouching next to the fire and moved to sit next to him.

The sun crept lower on the horizon. They reached over and took his hand to get his attention, not knowing it was hard for Hancock to focus on anything other than them. “I mean it, Hancock. Really. Not many people these days pay as much attention as you do. The fact that you decided to take a step back to make sure you were doing right by your people proves that.”

“Careful, now, you’ll make me blush with all that flattery.”

They laughed quietly but didn’t respond. As the evening quieted further, the birds no longer chirped but settled into their nests and the sun nearly set, they began to swipe their thumb back and forth over the back of Hancock’s hand. Carefully, they raised their entwined hands and pressed their lips to his knuckles. “You trying to flatter me more?” Hancock kept his tone cautiously flirtatious.

Sure, he flirted with them some. Okay, a lot. But never had he thought they would take him seriously, much less respond in kind. Not that he was complaining. “Is it working?” They asked quietly, their lips brushing against his rough skin as they spoke, looking up at him through their lashes. Jesus Christ, they were gonna be the death of him.

“Dunno yet. Why don’t you keep trying and I’ll get back to you on that.”

Hancock wasn’t sure whether it was the Jet or the grin that spread across their face that made him so lightheaded.

MacCready:

“Relax, Mac. We’re just a couple of Settlers.” Sole said quietly, their tone soothing.

They had insisted on doing a bit of recon on the Gunners once they had gotten intel that they were coming to Diamond City for supplies. Mac was positive they were going to be called out at any moment. After all, the Gunners had probably put word out to all of their factions that he was on their watchlist.

Sole had given him completely different clothes, mussed up his hair, and provided a bandana to hide most of his face in order for him to blend in. Lucky for them, there had been a nasty dust storm just yesterday and they weren’t the only ones hiding their faces. They had seated themselves at Power Noodles and begun watching for the Gunners.

As soon as they arrived Mac tensed. He wasn’t one for acting, that was Deacon’s job from what he’d heard, and knowing that people who were out for his blood were so close had him on edge. A few minutes passed as a pair of Gunners made their way to the counter and ordered before sitting and chatting. Sole kept their eyes on MacCready, but it was obvious to him their attention was directed to the conversation taking place behind them.

It was clear to them MacCready wasn’t gonna last much longer, and they didn’t blame him. They’d heard stories about the Gunners and what they were willing to do to get their way. His body language was becoming more and more obvious the longer they sat there before Sole snapped their attention back to him and nodded. It was time to go, they got what they wanted. They slid off their stool casually and slid their hand into Mac’s to get his attention.

He flushed under his bandana but followed suit, hopping off his stool and allowing them to lead him towards the back of the stands. Their hands were distractingly soft and as the distance between them and the Gunners grew he felt himself relax a bit more. They stopped him once they had reached the stands and no one was in sight.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet and Sole squeezed his hand sympathetically.

MacCready felt himself blush again and squeezed their hand back before letting go. “Uh- I. Thanks. For that.” He looked away from them and scratched the back of his neck.

“Anytime, Mac.”

‘Do you mean that?’ He almost asked, biting his tongue to stop himself. It was just to blend in and get him away from the Gunners. Right?

Nick:

It was nearly midnight and Nick, not needing sleep, was still filling out paperwork. Sole had insisted they were going to stay up with him to help, but they were obviously nodding off to his left. He sighed and set down his pencil, turning towards them. “You know you can go rest.” He had repeated this about ten times already that night.

Sole’s voice was groggy when they replied, “No, I said I would help.”

Nick stood from his chair and gathered a few files. He knew the only way they would go to bed is if he dragged them there himself and implied that he was done working for the night. “Look, you can head to bed, I’m going to put these where they belong and then go read.”

Sole cracked one of their eyes open and then shook their head. They pressed their fingertips to their eyes before blinking rapidly and picking up their pencil, beginning to reread what they had written so far. Nick held out his hand over their paper, directly in their line of sight. “Go to bed, Sole. You can barely stay awake.”

Grumbling to themself, Sole took his hand and allowed him to help them up. He led their stumbling figure to their bed, which he had gotten specifically for nights like this. He kept their hand in his to help them balance as they reached down and tugged their shoes off, then plopped down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. Their voice was quiet when they asked, “Stay? I-” They stopped themselves from explaining.

It had been a brutal week and they’d had a few close calls. It dawned on him. Of course they didn’t want to sleep; they didn’t want to be alone. Nick nodded and didn’t let go of their hand as they laid back and he settled into the armchair beside their bed. Their breaths evened out swiftly and he settled the stack of files in his lap, returning to fill out the files with his available hand.

Piper:

“Knock knock!” Sole called into the Publick Occurrences building as they stepped in.

Nat leapt up from where she and Piper were sitting on the couch and barreled into Sole, flinging her arms around their waist. “Hey Nat.” They laughed, hugging her tightly.

“Hey Sole, what brings you to our part of the Commonwealth? Picking up some goods from Myrna?” Piper got up from the couch, moving to greet her friend.

“You didn’t tell her?” They asked Nat.

Nat shook her head sheepishly. “Ask me what?” Piper’s tone grew suspicious.

“I was gonna take her for lunch and told her to ask you if it was alright.” 

Piper raised an eyebrow at Nat. “I forgot.” She muttered, gaze directed at the floor.

“Tell you what. Let’s all go, I’ll buy. It gives you a chance to take a break from editing, Piper.” 

Piper found it hard to say no in face of Sole’s easygoing grin. She nodded her assent and slipped her shoes on, watching as Sole helped Piper into her coat, fondness overtaking her stern expression. “Are we ready?” They asked cheerfully.

“Looks like it. Nat, hold Sole’s hand for safety, okay? There’s been a lot of new traders coming in and we don’t need you getting lost.”

“What about you?” Sole asked jokingly. “I’d better hold onto you, too, I’d hate to lose you.”

Piper stammered, suddenly finding interest in the dirt on her boots. “Oh. Uh- yeah. I mean- yeah, that’s fine. Sure.”

Sole’s grin grew as they headed out. As soon as the door was locked behind them, they took Piper’s hand and the trio made their way across Diamond City for their meal. Piper never really got her ability to form sentences back while her hand was in Sole’s. Safely.

Preston:

“Where are we headed, General?” Preston asked, striding to stand next to them.

Sole had put out word that they wanted to see Preston for ‘something extremely important’ earlier that morning and had requested he find her later in the evening in the garden. The garden was a great source of pride for Sole, as they had built the thriving area quite literally from the ground up. They stood near the fence, rinsing tatos under the faucet, and glanced up when Preston spoke. “Good to see you, Preston. Let me finish this up and then we can head inside.” 

Truth be told, he was nervous. Sole was usually quite direct with why they wanted to see him, but it seemed they had remained intentionally vague. He was sure they were headed somewhere, possibly to help out another settlement, but that didn’t explain why they weren’t communicating their motives like they usually did.

He shifted uncertainly as they finished rinsing the tatos, piled them in their basket, and moved towards the garden gate. Preston jumped to action and pulled it open for them, anxious to do something. He followed them quietly as they moved to the connected house and pulled open the door. They gestured him inside before they led him to the kitchen and set the basket down. He began to wonder what to do with himself when they asked, “Have you had pasta before. Not Power Noodles, but pasta?”

“Um… what?” Preston stared at them in confusion. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Come here, I’ll teach you how to make it.”

“Of course, but I have to ask General, why did you want to see me?”

Sole smiled. “You deserve a night off. You’ve been working hard lately- it didn’t escape my notice -and I figured you wouldn’t take a break if I didn’t give you something else to do. So I’ll teach you how to make pasta. We just harvested razorgrain today, so there’s plenty.”

So Preston stepped into their kitchen, a little more certain of himself with that weight off his shoulders, and listened intently as they gave him instructions. They ground the razorgrain into a fine powder with Sole’s makeshift mortar and pestle, split a Mirelurk egg in half, and added it to the flour. As they continued their pasta-making-mission, Skeeter Davis’ voice rang out quietly from the nearby radio, and Preston found himself more at ease than he had been in a while.

The evening moved swiftly into night as the pair sat on Sole’s couch, trading stories over their home cooked meal. Passing settlers turned as Sole’s laughter rang out through the air every now and then, Preston’s following soon after each time. The conversation lasted long into the night before the pair grew quiet and simply listened to the crackling fire that kept the evening chill at bay.

Sole reached out carefully and interlocked their fingers with Preston’s, catching his attention as he glanced from their hands to their face, eyes wide. “Is this okay?” They asked quietly.

Preston nodded and squeezed their hand, an infectious smile crossing his face, to which Sole began smiling as well. Sole began telling another story of their adventures as Preston sunk back into the couch. He’d felt a little selfish thinking it, but he understood why people enjoyed taking breaks.

X6-88:

“I hate it. Six, this is awful.” Sole gripped the rail that lined the glass walkway at the very top of the Institute, staring down in horror.

“The pathways were built to Institute standards. They are perfectly sound.” X6 replied patiently, having gone through this before.

“It’s glass! I don’t trust it. There’s a reason I’ve never come up here! The lower walkways are bad enough.”

X6 stifled his impatience before reaching out and prying their hands off the railing. “Six!” They cried, grasping onto his hand desperately.

He pulled them closer to him, putting his arm around their shoulders with their hand still firmly attached to his, and began guiding them towards the elevator at the end of the pathway. Externally, as usual, he had set his face in a stern expression. However, he found himself suppressing a sense of smug satisfaction at the turn of events.

Once they reached the elevator, he forced himself to begin unwinding himself from Sole. As soon as he began loosening his grip and lifting his arm, Sole grabbed back onto him. “Not yet.” They stared down, just as tense, as the elevator began descending slowly. X6 didn’t protest, and settled his arm back onto their shoulders, their hand gripped firmly in his.

[mayihavethisdanse]

Stress Response

Waypoint Echo, 2288

We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say that man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet is nevertheless at liberty, and from the moment that he is thrown into this world he is responsible for everything he does.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946) 

"Ready, Paladin?" 

“Just about.” 

Danse shielded his eyes and squinted through the half-light. These clouds would probably send a radstorm somewhere else in the Commonwealth, but this close to the Glowing Sea, the drizzle had the opposite effect. The terrain was irradiated to hell, of course, but the rain actually seemed to keep the rads at bay. Slightly.

It wouldn't last, but that was one reason they wore Power Armor.

"Equipment's good to go. We should be at the site by noon," he tossed off in the sergeant's direction. "If you don't hear from us by nightfall, assume something's wrong. Air support might be—what is it, Haylen?"

"Orders for you, Paladin."

"What? From the Prydwen?"

"Yes, sir. Here."

Haylen tapped at the terminal and then stood back, letting Danse take her place to bend his neck down at the dim screen. It was a pain to use these things in armor, but at least the message was brief. A terse order to remain on site and see the munitions safely back to headquarters. Which meant…

Maxson knows.

It was the only thing Danse could think. The orders would have been unremarkable except for the explicit and unambiguous instruction that he return alone. Something was wrong. A reassignment? A reprimand?

He tried to keep his face neutral despite the hot flush of humiliation. Knight Williams stood across the outpost and it seemed there was still some mercy left in the wasteland, because her headlamp illuminated the woods in the opposite direction. Her armor glinted dully, a sheen of radioactive rain still clinging to the steel, but for once Danse's thoughts weren't on the possibility of rust.

Yes. It had to be about Cecily Williams. Maxson must have suspected Danse was getting too attached to his knight. Or he'd determined that Danse's priorities were out of order, just as he'd warned him against at the outset of this experimental partnership. Either way, Danse wasn't looking forward to explaining himself.

It would still be better than letting Williams take the blame for his own folly. The Elder had always been suspicious of her motives. But Maxson didn't know her the way Danse did. And he couldn't know that nothing else had happened between the two of them.

Honestly, Danse was a little offended that anyone would think it might have. He might have been quietly enamored of one of his soldiers, yes, but he was first and foremost a Brotherhood paladin. He'd die before he jeopardized the mission. And—it stung to think, but he suspected it was true—it might be for the best if he and Williams went to separate teams. He thought he was in control of his feelings, but he was hardly objective. If there was a risk of favoritism impairing his decisions in the field...

Damn. He'd have to face the music.

But there was no time for distractions. Their objective was of the utmost importance and he'd chosen their time of departure carefully. There was another hour before sunrise, and Danse wanted to be well into the Glowing Sea by then.

He stepped away from the terminal and snapped on his helmet.

"Ready now?" called Williams a second time from her spot at the perimeter, her voice filtered through the respirator.

"Ready," he asserted as he strode to her side. It might be the last time they set out on a mission together, but he'd be damned if he gave her any hint of that. She didn't need any more distractions.

"Good luck out there, you two," said Haylen. "Don't come back as ghouls, okay?"

"We've got it, Haylen. See you."

A final chorus of Ad Victoriam all around, and they were off.

(Continued under the cut. Also on AO3.)

The trek through the Glowing Sea was less miserable than their first had been. It wasn't scorchingly hot, for one thing, and they'd left the bulk of their gear at the outpost. A lighter burden let them move faster. If the maps were accurate, they were a few hours' hike from their destination.

"Less miserable" was still pretty damn miserable, however. Williams led the way and Danse turned frequently to check their backs. The rain impeded visibility and soaked through the gaps in their armor. He kept his headlamp on.

The edge of the Glowing Sea reminded him more of the Capital Wasteland than anywhere else in the Commonwealth. In a way, the outskirts were worse than the crater itself. That might as well have been an alien landscape or the site of some natural disaster. It held few reminders of anything to do with mankind, but here… as they passed a church, then a battered Red Rocket and an isolated bit of highway, there was no escaping the thought that humanity had brought this hell down on itself. His furiously clicking Geiger was a constant reminder of the rads they were subjecting themselves to. The Power Armor offered decent shielding, but this terrain really wasn't fit for human travelers.

Even if certain other things seemed to thrive. Danse caught a glimpse of a familiar and ominous shadow on the horizon—or what passed for the horizon when visibility was so poor. It was probably only a few dozen yards away.

"I don't think we're alone," he told his partner over his helmet radio, reaching for his rifle and searching the cliffs for movement even as he switched off his headlamp. "Reduce illumination levels."

"What is it?”

"Deathclaw. Seven o'clock. Might be stalking us."

She dropped into a crouch and swore. "We should detour."

"No. I don't want to get too far off course." Forget the wildlife, the terrain and the radiation would do them in. "If we get into trouble out here, that'll be it."

The knight let out a puff of laughter. "A deathclaw doesn't count as 'trouble'?"

"Just advance cautiously. Don’t engage if we can avoid it.” He checked the terrain again, assessing the threat, before turning back to Williams. "Let's move out."

In the dim light, she was just a silhouette in Power Armor. "All right, Paladin. Watch my back."

"Roger that."

The sun was rising around them, but the only real sign of it was the brighter glow of the fog. The two of them kept down and moved at a slower pace than before. Danse's nerves hummed with uncomfortable and competing desires to either flee or face the threat outright. He hated creeping along like a radroach.

As they advanced, an old radio tower emerged slowly from the fog ahead. He tracked their progress against its position, still monitoring their surroundings, until Williams dropped into a low crouch four paces ahead. Then she held up her arm in a signal he knew.

Danse reached for his rifle.

Fire and maneuver. Williams stayed in place, Danse looped around, and luck was on their side today because it was only a few minutes later that they stood over the body of a Deathclaw. The thing was glowing with radiation; it sent his Geiger into a new frenzy.

"We can't stay here," Williams said.

"No."

They moved away from the corpse and continued on south. Really, they couldn't reach the site soon enough for peace of mind. Danse's heart rate was still faster than it ought to have been, and it wasn't just the excitement of combat. This place set him on edge. It was... haunting. It was impossible to ignore the grimness of it as he scanned their surroundings.

Hard to imagine that Williams had seen the bomb drop. Hell, half the time he forgot where she'd come from. She was so sure of herself, so steady in the face of the world's horrors, that it put him to shame.

Danse glanced back at his partner. He couldn't see her face behind the helmet, but he could hear her when she said, "We're getting close."

"It's right there." He pointed ahead to a series of shadowy shapes through the fog. Broken towers, radioactive pools—and a large, blank pyramid behind them. That was their destination.

They skirted the radioactive pools and paused, staring in unison at a pair of abandoned bomb crates lying out in the open.

After a long moment, Williams started and checked her six. "Excuse my lapse in attention, Paladin."

"It's all right." It was his fault as much as hers, anyway. "Let me try to reach Haylen."

But as he'd expected, there was too much interference on the main Brotherhood frequency. Only an occasional gurgle broke the static.

Danse shook his head. "No go."

"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."

He looked back one last time when they reached the door.

The weather conditions had worsened significantly. A distant bolt of lightning lit up half the sky and whether it was his imagination or his laser rifle, he could have sworn he smelled the ozone even through his respirator.

"Let's swap positions," he said. "I'll take point."

She laughed a little wryly. "After you, Danse."

This facility had definitely been more than a disposal site. He said as much to Williams.

“Launch silo,” she repeated dully, leaning over the edge of the railing and peering down into the darkness. “Fantastic.”

"All right. Let's see what's down there."

The light was dim inside the silo, and the air was stale and almost immobile. Even through the filters of his helmet it was oppressive. That he was not imagining. But even the stale air was preferable to the stench that filled his lungs whenever they caught an updraft: standing water and dry rot, ferals and whatever rancid prey they'd dragged in from the Sea.

"Ugh," said Williams over her suit's radio as they passed a picked-over carcass of the latter. "This is disgusting."

"I'm in full agreement with you there, soldier."

He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "We never go anywhere that isn't."

"There's always the Prydwen."

"The Prydwen is disgusting, too. We don't all have our own private quarters like some people. Have you forgotten how rank it gets in the barracks?"

"No," he said dryly. The distinct odor caused by too many feet in close quarters with insufficient ventilation was a common observation of new recruits. And old ones. "It's almost as bad as the mess hall."

"Was that... a joke? Paladin, I'm ashamed of you."

Before Danse could respond, a pale shadow flickered in the corner of his eye—

"We got ferals!" he shouted.

The site was full of ferals, in fact. They mowed through them diligently as they descended further into the structure. It was unpleasant work, but not difficult from their position, and the two of them worked well as a team. Battlefield cohesion had never been a problem with her.

With the premises cleared, they removed their helmets. Her face was averted, but she seemed to be holding up all right. Cecily Williams really did make a natural soldier. And she'd learned in the field: she searched the bodies of the ghouls with a professional detachment that she hadn't quite had when she joined the Brotherhood.

"Anything of interest?" he called as she crouched to inspect a corpse.

She looked back up at him, and for all his good intentions it was a struggle not to stare; it wasn't normally his way, but he was only human. She really was beautiful, despite—maybe because of—the scars that streaked down her face and twisted her lip, or the faint bruises that lingered nearly a year after her injuries. She just looked like… home.

Which was a preposterous thought. They were on a mission and home was where he'd be sending her shortly. It wasn’t for Danse to question Maxson’s decisions.

"Nothing," she said with remarkable good cheer. "Unless you're interested in a toothbrush or an extremely outdated newspaper."

"I think we can pass."

"Seems like these people were settled in here for the long haul, doesn’t it?"

Whatever preparations they'd made hadn't helped them survive the apogee of human arrogance. Danse shrugged off the observation as he and Williams made their way further back through the tunnels. The underground complex was a maze, but he thought they were heading back the way they’d come, away from the pyramid and toward the silent towers. At one point Knight Williams clambered through a hacked-out hole in the wall. He followed a moment later.

"Something like a control room down the hall," she said in a low voice. "And I see a blast door. I think we found the place."

"Outstanding."

Danse paced a few feet away. It was unexpectedly difficult to look directly at her.

"You should return to the airport immediately, Williams. I'll remain on watch until the vertibirds arrive."

He forced his eyes back to find her staring at him in apparent disbelief.

"You want me to go back on my own?"

"Without that deathclaw, the route we took should be clear. I know you can handle yourself out there. Here."

Williams stared at the assortment of supplies—extra stimpaks, RadAway, water—he held out to her. "That's ridiculous. Why don't I wait with you?"

He couldn't think about the dangers. Orders were orders. "I don't have a choice."

"But—"

"Dismissed, Knight."

She stared at him for another half a second. Then she nodded, collected his supplies, and turned to go. The heavy steps of her Power Armor echoed through the empty silo, followed by the distant bell of an elevator.

And then there was nothing but the clicking of his Geiger counter to keep Danse company.

That and a stockpile of nukes.

He swallowed the faint pang of distaste and directed his thoughts to the greater good. Overwhelming force was the most efficient way to secure the Commonwealth and ensure the long-term survival of its people. Liberty Prime would give the Brotherhood the upper hand against the Institute—and then some. That was all that mattered.

It would take a while for the message to be relayed. He kept his rifle at the ready, just in case; they'd dealt with the ferals, but there was still that cultist and his robot in the control room. Cecily had pacified the lunatic for now, but God only knew if he'd stay calm. And it was critically important to keep those bombs in Brotherhood hands.

He kept his safety off, too. Just in case.

An hour passed without incident, then another. Danse paced in growing disquiet, keeping half an eye on the control room above, but there was no sign of activity. His head was starting to ache. Williams should have reached the edge of the Sea by now, and Haylen should have relayed their position to the Prydwen. All he had to do was wait and try not to lose his mind.

As the minutes ticked by and turned into yet another hour, Danse began to find that task harder than he should have. He should have let Williams wait with him. Orders were orders, but he could have used his discretion as a field officer to make a different call than sending her back alone.

What if she had run into trouble outside? The Glowing Sea was a damn nightmare. Had he sent her out alone just to prove to Maxson—or to himself—that he could? That he wouldn’t let personal attachment get in the way of sending yet another person under his command to their death? He'd had so many close calls with Williams already. He should never have allowed himself to form such an attachment in the first place.

The throbbing in his head grew stronger. It had been too long. The vertibirds should be here by now. Danse shifted his weight uneasily and turned into the shadows to watch the door.

And then the chatter of static came on the radio in his helmet.

"Check—come in, Danse—"

Adrenaline flooded his body. The signal was so distorted he didn't recognize the voice. How was a signal even reaching him down here? Had Williams come back after all? He snatched for the switch of his transceiver.

"This is Paladin Danse. Go ahead."

"You need to get out of there. There’s an alert out for you. Over."

"What the hell are you—is that Haylen?"

But the voice on the radio didn't answer. From this location, it was impressive he'd picked up that much: the pulser beacon relayed his position, but that was all.

"What do you mean, an alert?" he said to the empty room.

But there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd known something was wrong—but this didn't seem like…

He tried the secondary Brotherhood frequency, then another. This time his radio picked up a clearer signal. Local.

The constriction in his throat eased, replaced by annoyance at the sloppy security protocol. He'd have to have a word with these soldiers' commanding officer.

And then the words they were speaking came through.

"I still can't believe it. How did Quinlan find out?"

"Some intel Danse's new pal brought up from the Institute. Bet he regrets bringing her on board now."

“Double-crossing traitor."

Danse paused on the verge of pressing the push-to-talk button on his transceiver.

"A synth. Who'd have fucking thought it."

"I don't know. I always thought there was something a little off about Danse.”

Down at the loading bay, Danse stood at a loss for words. What kind of sick joke—what were they—

The voices continued. "Pulser's going nuts. Definitely the place. Tracker on his suit says we’re close. Where the hell is he?"

"Must be further down. Look at all these—argh! Disgusting ferals."

“All clear?”

“Looks like. Try the tunnel.”

Danse switched off his radio with haste. And he listened. It was only a moment before the heavy clanking of Power Armor on metal walkways echoed through the silo. It was still distant, but they wouldn’t be long now. Not with that trail of feral corpses to follow. And the blast door was open.

It didn't matter. If it was a mistake... it had to be a mistake... they could sort it out later. But he wouldn't be able to do that if he was killed before he could speak to Maxson. To someone who could explain what was going on.

The Geiger counter clicked as furiously as his racing thoughts. They'd find him in a matter of minutes. He wasn't going to fight his brothers, and he couldn't…

What the hell could he do?

It was probably less than a minute before he decided, but it felt like longer. Even the Geiger seemed to slow as his thoughts converged. His mind focused like a scope on a target. One target, one thought: he had to get out of the godforsaken Glowing Sea.

There was nothing else worth taking from this site. Ferals with their rags. Some ancient debris, the crazed cultist upstairs…

He suddenly regretted giving Williams his extra supplies.

Survival was a long shot, but it was a calculated risk. He'd have better odds facing a Deathclaw naked than a vertibird full of Brotherhood soldiers set on capturing or killing an enemy combatant.

And there was no doubt they'd been given one order or the other. Any synth in the Brotherhood would be bad enough, but Danse was a paladin. If they thought he was an infiltrator... hell, he knew the order he'd have given.

There was nothing for it. His hazmat suit was back with the rest of their gear at the outpost with Haylen. His flight suit and hood provided a limited amount of radiation shielding. If he was lucky, they’d keep him alive. He could only avoid any obvious hotspots and hope not to encounter any hostiles.

It wasn’t impossible, even here in the most dangerous part of the Commonwealth. Danse could be stealthy if he had to. As a Brotherhood soldier, he rarely had to. It was one of the things he liked most about his job.

Had liked. One way or another, this would be the end of his career.

Danse pressed the hydraulic release valve and stepped out of his Power Armor.

Sentinel Site Prescott, 2288

When a man commits himself to anything, fully realising that he is not only choosing what he will be, but is thereby… deciding for the whole of mankind–in such a moment a man cannot escape from the sense of complete and profound responsibility.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946)

The clicking of the Geiger counter stopped. It left an unsettling stillness in its wake and for an agonized moment, Danse wished Williams were still here.

No. It was better she was gone. Better she didn't know anything. If Danse had to go down, the last thing he wanted was to drag her with him. And right now, with Brotherhood soldiers approaching, he needed to keep his head more than ever.

He stepped away from the empty suit of Power Armor, leaving it to stand silently in the shadows between walls of munitions crates, and secured his weapons and pack. Then he crouched low and crept to the door of the loading bay, trying to stay out of the light. His uniform suit allowed for better stealth than Power Armor did, but the damn thing was still bright orange.

He waited, still keeping low, and hardly jolted at the first blast of laser fire overhead. So much for pacifying the cultist.

The momentary distraction of the soldiers gave him the break he needed to make a run for it. But which way? The freight elevator would take him the way Williams had gone, out of the silo and into the Sea, but it was exposed. Bright light, the creak of the lift mechanism—there was no way they'd fail to notice his escape.

His body insisted run, but he forced himself to think it through. The blasts of laser fire from the control room would cover the noise from the lift mechanism.

Danse hit the call button just before the firing stopped.

He froze. And then he moved, staying low, away from the creaking elevator and back the way he'd come in. It was still a maze of shadowy tunnels, but perhaps this time that would work to his advantage. It was good for him that they'd killed the cultist, actually. No one else could say they'd seen Danse flee. Not even Williams. He rounded a corner to—

More Brotherhood soldiers, racing in as backup. Of course there were more. If they weren't looking for him yet, they would be in a moment. Danse ducked behind a drainage pipe in the nick of time and found himself knee-deep in a pool of rancid standing water.

If he'd thought the stench of bloated mole rat corpses was bad before, without his helmet it was all but unbearable. But he stayed there, letting the tepid water soak into his boots and trying not to breathe too deeply, until the main tunnel was clear.

It looked like he'd have to take the elevator after all.

Danse had one stroke of luck, which was that no one had reacted to the clattering arrival of the elevator. It was still there, waiting for him, so he crept aboard and hit the button. And took a deep breath.

When he turned around, he found himself face to face with the grinning corpse of a Glowing One, splayed over a pile of crates in a macabre sort of invitation. Danse cursed, hoped there was still a remnant of Rad-X in his system, and nudged the grotesque thing away with the butt of his rifle.

Probably just as well he didn't have the Geiger. All it could do was tell him exactly how quickly he was killing himself.

At the top, he left the platform as quickly as he could and braced himself before the last door to the outside world. If he'd gauged his position correctly, he was in one of the towers northeast of the pyramid. Depending where exactly the vertibirds had landed, he might still have a chance to escape.

Slowly, he pushed open the door.

He wasn't in the vertibirds' direct line of sight. Good. Their propellers were visible over the crest of the hill, but that was fifty yards away at least. Danse breathed slightly easier. He'd still need to move carefully, though. It was highly probable they'd set a sentry.

A loud creak spurred him into action. Someone below had just called the elevator back. It seemed his streak of luck was over.

Danse stepped out onto the landing and felt the hot air hit his body like a wall. A flash of lightning revealed, just for a second, the shape of the Prydwen hovering over the horizon. A cruel irony. Well, at least he could orient by it.

He moved cautiously out further on the ancient grille, but the metal didn't even creak under his weight. That was abnormally jarring. Danse wasn't a small man, but he was accustomed to moving in Power Armor in the field. His proprioception was all off.

Dropping from a height wasn’t as easy as he was used to, either. But the ground was soft under his boots. He hoped it was from the rain and not from the radioactive sludge that circled the base of the concrete tower like a moat. Since there was nothing to be done about it either way, he didn't take the time to examine things more closely.

He just ran.

When he looked back, he regretted it. One, then two knights in Power Armor stood on the metal platform, scanning the terrain.

So he ran faster.

He didn't keep up the pace for long. Just far enough that he was out of firing range. It was enough to start. They didn't seem to have identified his direction.

He wasn't sure of the time, only that it was past sunset. The Glowing Sea never fully darkened, and the rain had stopped while they were inside, but the clouds lingered and visibility was still poor. Under the circumstances, that might work to Danse's advantage. Speed and stealth were the only way he'd get out of here. He only had a few things on him besides his guns. Food, less than he'd like. Ammo, less than he'd like. Two cans of water and that was it. He didn't even have his damn radio.

He stumbled over more signs of Williams: bloatfly corpses, half dissolved in plasma, and the familiar footprints of T-60 that disappeared into the dunes. He'd been right: his knight could take care of herself. It didn't keep the cold sweat from his skin, knowing he’d left her to face this hellscape on her own. Knowing why, exactly, he'd been ordered to wait alone.

He could hear the familiar rumble of a vertibird circling overhead. It had been a very long time since he found that sound menacing. Now, taking cover behind a boulder, he squinted up at the sky. What the hell were they doing? They needed to get those nukes back to the…

They were searching for Danse. Not just searching: hunting. If he’d had any lingering doubts as to their objective, the fact that it was a gunship rather than a transport would have eliminated them.

But his cover held. The lancers flew low and then they moved on.

Danse moved on, too. He counted his breaths. Paced himself. He knew how to survive in the wasteland. When he scrambled over rubble and crept past mutant-infested ruins, it was with thirty-something years of experience in doing just that.

...wasn't it?

No wonder they were hunting him. He'd gone AWOL. Deserted, even. He'd left his power armor—he'd even left the fusion core, goddamn it—and he'd abandoned the bombs in express defiance of his orders. Never mind that the Brotherhood soldiers had arrived before he left. He'd made a snap judgment to flee and now he had to live with the consequences. If there hadn't been a price on his head before, there would be now, even if it proved that Danse was exactly who and what he thought he was.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of here before he turned into a damn ghoul instead. He could assess the situation fully once he was in a secure location. He couldn't spend the night here in nothing but a flight suit. He’d have to power through.

He even had a destination in mind. A fortified bunker near Malden–a fallback point for his recon team. They'd never used it. Haylen knew about it, but Haylen knew all the same fallback points he did. And if that had been her on the radio earlier… well. It would make as good a safehouse as any, and better than most.

The route was another decision point. Danse had two options: the brackish marshes and fens south of Boston, which would require traveling through the city itself and skirting uncomfortably close to the airport, or following the highway north past the Brotherhood waypoint and God knew what else.

He went north.

He still didn’t have enough water. He eyeballed a pond but passed it without stopping. If the radiation didn't get him, he'd be lucky if stomach cramps were the best of it.

Fortunately, he did scavenge one single can of water at the relay tower. The relay tower that was… operational? They’d passed it on the way in. He didn’t remember seeing any lights before…

Knight Williams. Of course. She'd brought the relay online. That was how he'd been able to pick up Haylen’s signal: Williams. Was there anything she couldn't do?

He'd asked her that question once and been startled by her response. It was one of the only occasions he could recall her snapping at him. She usually brushed off the things that bothered her with a light quip.

Not that time.

"What can’t I do? Take your pick. Save my husband. Find my son. Turn back time so none of this ever happened."

He didn't know what to tell her.

She looked away.  "Do you have a family, Paladin Danse?"

Danse shrugged. "I have the Brotherhood," he said.

He didn’t make it as far as he would have liked before the storm showed signs of returning. He had to find cover before the rain started up again. Fleeing unarmored and unequipped was one thing; doing it soaking wet was another. Every crack of thunder reminded him of the damage his body was taking. Even machines could only stand up to so many rads before the damage was irreversible...

Drawing on every bit of training and every year of practice controlling his emotions—fighting every natural inclination he had—Danse shoved the thought from his mind. The question of his identity could be dealt with later. Right now, he needed shelter to survive.

He found a semblance of it, eventually, in an ancient church half-sunk into the ground. He climbed in through a hole in the roof. He was probably still taking more rads than he ought to, but this was better than being out in the open.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Stirrings of movement caught his eye just in time before he dropped to the lower level. He didn't have his headlamp, but he didn't need it: those scrabbling sounds meant more damn ferals. If he'd had the ammo to spare, he could have fired on them from above. If he'd had his armor, he could have gone down there and gone hand-to-hand with the mob. But he had neither.

Which meant he couldn't stay here long. If one of the disgusting things figured out how to climb to the upper level where Danse stood, the others would follow.

Maybe he could just… sit for a moment. The weather might be clearing: peering up through the broken rafters, Danse could even see a few stars through the luminous, omnipresent clouds. He must be almost to the edge of the Sea. He could afford a moment’s rest.

But his mind was blurring. He drank his last can of water in a few gulps but it didn't quench his thirst. He was hot, but he found he was shivering. Dehydration? Bad sign. Running a fever? That wasn’t a good sign, either.

Neither was vomiting over the railing into the nave of the church. It had been some time since Danse had last felt the symptoms of radiation sickness, but they were unmistakable. He'd never make it out of here if he didn't keep moving and get some help. It couldn't be far to the Brotherhood waypoint…

For a moment, confused by fatigue and radiation, he forgot who he was fleeing and why. And then memory struck like the lightning that illuminated the sky through the rafters.

He crawled up the stairs, as far away from the wakeful ferals as he could get, and his fumbling hands hit something in the darkness with a familiar metallic ting. A first-aid box. There had to be something inside. Maybe more water, maybe some stims—Rad-Away if he was lucky—

Frantically, he peeled off his gloves and pried it open, scraping his knuckles on the raw-edged steel to find...

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

The Capital Wasteland, 2286

The hum of the Prydwen's engines was quieter in the sick bay than in his own quarters. After a sleepless night, Danse resented the relative silence. His head was still throbbing and the lights were all too bright.

"I don't see a date of birth here," remarked Cade finally. "You're how old?"

"About thirty-four. Give or take."

"Wastelander, right?"

"Yeah."

"Recent radiation exposure?"

"No more than usual."

"Hmm. Any intimate contact with the civilian population lately? Non-humans?"

Danse almost laughed. "No."

Cade lifted a brow at him. "You know I have to ask, Paladin. You drink?"

"Sometimes."

"How often?"

The questions went on and on. Danse responded with as much patience as he could muster. The tapping of keys and the Knight-Captain's low, off-pitch hum wore on his nerves.

"Hm." Cade examined the terminal yet again. "You say you've been experiencing these symptoms for some time, but I don't see any previous mentions in your notes, Paladin."

"I didn't consider it worth bringing up until recently."

"Next time, let me be the judge of that," said Cade, looking up from the screen. "I'd rather do an exam than an autopsy. All right. Let's draw some blood."

Danse was starting to regret his decision to stop by the sick bay. When Cade came at him with a phlebotomy tray, his stomach churned and he barely resisted the urge to flinch away. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes," Cade said wearily. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have asked."

It hadn't been a request, but Danse rolled up his sleeve anyway and braced himself against the pressure of the tourniquet.

"We'll do a full workup," continued the doctor. "Results will take a few days."

"I don't have a few days. I'm back on the ground tomorrow."

Cade shook his head, fitting a needle into his syringe. "Where are they sending you this time? If you can tell me, of course."

"Up to the Commonwealth with a recon team. Could be in the field a while." Danse glanced away as the needle pierced his skin.

"All the more reason you should have come sooner. I'm tempted to deny your medical clearance."

"You don't have the authority to—”

"But I won't," Cade continued severely, "provided I have your word you'll follow your medic's advice out there."

Danse took a deep breath and shut his eyes against the lights. His head was still spinning. "I'll do so if... at all possible," he said, choosing his words with care.

"That's as good as I'm going to get, isn't it?" Cade withdrew the syringe somewhat less gently than he might have and dropped Danse's arm back onto the cold metal. "At least get some damn rest before you go, Danse."

"I'll try." He rose gratefully to his feet. "Knight-Captain."

Cade sighed and waved him out.

Danse doubted the tests would turn up anything useful. He'd get by, regardless. He always did.

Later, he wasn't quite sure how he'd made it to the edge of the Sea. Parts of the last leg were crystal clear, others hazy; he'd fought off a radscorpion, he thought. Or two. Maybe he’d only killed the one and the other had given him up as a worthless catch.

He certainly felt like a worthless catch. He'd rid himself of everything in his stomach and then some, but the waves of cramps kept coming. His head spun and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His face felt hot, like he'd been in the sun too long, even though the sun was just now rising. He'd been in the Glowing Sea a full twenty-four hours.

The Brotherhood waypoint wasn't far. With his head spinning the way it was, he could almost have given himself up just for some reprieve. But he didn't. He steered clear of the waypoint and kept to cover as much as he could and finally, just when he started to fear he'd lost his way, the Sea began to yield to scrubland and he emerged just south of Lake Cochituate.

Still, when he saw a Brotherhood checkpoint ahead, it was a struggle not to run forward and hold up his arms. Explain what had happened—explain there had been a mistake.

But the checkpoint wasn’t manned by people in the uniforms he knew. That was unanticipated. Their manner of dress was vaguely familiar, however, and Danse squinted at them until his mind made the connection: Minutemen.

"Hey," one of them said. "Hey, buddy. You all right?"

Danse nodded, but his mouth felt thick and slow as he said, "Too many rads. Got… meds? Water?"

"Oh, yeah,” said a man, nodding at the woman next to him. “Ramos does."

The woman rustled around in her pack and produced a pouch of Rad-Away. Danse saw the moment she recognized his uniform: the extended hand paused in midair.

"You get lost or something?"

"I…" Danse’s mind went blank. He hated lying, not least because he wasn’t very good at it. “Yes. On patrol.”

Fortunately, he must look as terrible as he felt, because the Minutemen seemed to take his confusion as symptoms of the radiation sickness. Ramos shook her head. "I think maybe they left you behind, pal. They all pulled up stakes from that checkpoint last night and flew out in a vertibird.”

It was more difficult than usual to find his tongue. “I… see. Thank you.”

"How long have you been out here? All night?”

Danse nodded again. Even he could tell it was a jerky and erratic motion.

“Shit. You got real lucky. Human body’s not meant to take that kind of beating.”

A statement he really didn't need to hear just then. “They’re all gone?”

“'Fraid so. Anything else we can do for you?”

They helped him inject himself with the medication. They gave him the supplies he needed. They even showed him to an abandoned suit of Power Armor, and Danse felt his first flicker of hope since leaving the Sentinel site. It was X-01, not T-60, and devoid of markings. The Brotherhood wouldn't know he had it—it would suit his purposes perfectly—but there was no fusion core. Damn. No help at all.

But there was a Brotherhood terminal tucked under a makeshift shelter. At least Danse could see the details of the order against him.

He paused in front of the terminal. If he used his official credentials, the scribes would be able to track his location. But Haylen had set up a private communication channel when they'd first arrived in the Commonwealth. If he remembered correctly, besides himself, only Haylen and Knight-Sergeant Dawes had been given the access code. And Dawes was dead, whatever he'd known lost in a wet smear of brain and hair.

Danse didn't really expect to find a message, but he entered the password anyway. The connection went through. The inbox was empty, as he'd expected. But just as his finger hovered over the escape key—there it was. A new message.

I might be putting my own neck on the chopping block by sending this, but the situation is unbelievable. Danse, they're saying you're an Institute synth. Neriah ran some tests and they must have been pretty damn conclusive because there's already an alert out for your head.

l don't know what to believe. I hope to hell you're not a traitor. I don't know why else a synth would join the Brotherhood, but I know you. You must have had your reasons.

You know they won't care. If you see this, you need to run... and fast.

H

Danse's mind raced. The message could be a trap, but that seemed unlikely. He trusted Haylen. Moreover, the message didn't appear to anticipate a response. There was also no mention of a rendezvous point or anything else that would lead a searcher to him.

A second message followed the first. Reflexively, he checked to make sure no one was looking over his shoulder.

Got into the files Quinlan decrypted. Here's the evidence. DNA matched yours.

Danse stared at the attached report. His own face stared back at him—maybe younger, unscarred, but unmistakably himself. M7-97. Unit at large. Location unknown.

He couldn't have composed a response if he'd tried. But the confirmation filled him with a strange sort of calm, too. He'd been right to flee.

He left the Minutemen behind with only a brief word of farewell. He had to get away. Keep moving. Run. Maybe there was still some mistake.

That thought got him past a Mass Fusion disposal site, past a super mutant camp, into the dry wasteland at last. It was another mile before he let himself think about it again.

What if it wasn't a mistake?

His steps slowed and his knees went weak. He didn't feel like a synth. He felt human. But what did synths feel like? He could feel his heart beating. He could taste the blood in his mouth.

Sure, he'd always been a little removed from the others, but who the hell wasn’t? Danse was acquainted with plenty of senior officers in the Brotherhood. None of them were known for their healthy and enriching personal lives. The Brotherhood came first because that was how it should be. And Danse had fit right in.

He had no way to check. But…

It seemed absurd. It felt absurd. But looking at it objectively, it made a horrible kind of sense.

Danse didn't know his last name. He didn't know how old he was. He'd grown up alone… and all in all, if you were going to implant false memories in someone's head, his made for a damned convenient set. Was there even anyone he'd known before Cutler who could vouch for him?

But I remember, part of his mind cried out. I remember. I'm real.

Damn it.

This mission, the Commonwealth, it had changed him even before this. He’d been lurching from one crisis to another for so long. He’d spent ten months watching his team die one by one. Williams had pulled them out of what would have been their final stand but until the Prydwen had shown up, he hadn’t been certain he’d see the rest of the Brotherhood again.

Even when the Prydwen arrived, his relief was laced with a thread of anxiety. It was good to see them, but they’d come prepared for an occupation. For conquest. The culmination of their years of preparation. He was glad of it, but he hadn’t felt quite ready. It had passed him by, literally and figuratively; his mind struggled to keep up even as they watched and cheered from the police station. He slapped Rhys on the shoulder and got a hint of a grin out of him, but Haylen’s smile mirrored his own anxiety.

He hadn't taken the time to indulge their nerves. They’d gone to the Prydwen, Maxson had rallied the forces, and Danse had been inspired in the cause all over again. Whatever infrequent, private doubts he might have harbored about their young leader's decisions were dwarfed by the enormity of their mission, and with Maxson at the lead, a Brotherhood victory seemed… if not inevitable, at least within their grasp. There was hope for humanity after all.

Except Danse wasn’t human.

When it truly struck, he felt winded. He was shaking harder than he had with the radiation sickness; he reached out to an ancient petrified tree for support, clutching the branch like a lifeline until the brittle wood snapped under the pressure of his hands. He couldn’t fill his lungs.

He wasn’t human.

Listening Post Bravo, 2288

Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself.

We mean that man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world—and defines himself afterwards. …to begin with he is nothing. He will not be anything until later, and then he will be what he makes of himself.

Life is nothing until it is lived; but it is yours to make sense of, and the value of it is nothing else but the sense that you choose.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism” (1946)

Danse snuck past a raider encampment. It made him sick to just move on, to leave them to prey on innocent civilians, but alone—without his armor, without his team—he was nothing. The helpless, worthless feeling he'd spent his whole life trying to escape had finally caught up with him.

He'd been on high alert since the Sentinel site and that was catching up with him, too. He made sloppy errors. He almost lost a leg to a pack of snarling mongrels through his own damn carelessness. A disgrace to the Brotherhood of Steel in more ways than one.

It wasn't politic to say in civilian company, but Danse normally enjoyed combat. Not the death or the horror or the stench, but the excitement of the struggle and the satisfaction when it was over. The security of knowing you lived another day while your enemy didn’t. The pride of doing something you were good at for a cause you believed in.

Not this. This was just survival. He felt like a damn radroach all over again—except that even a radroach was a natural creature, not something... manufactured. Artificial. A hunted animal had more right to its freedom than Danse did.

But he wasn't helpless. Not really. Survival was what he knew: it was all he'd known, before the Brotherhood.

He just couldn't help anyone else.

There was no way out of this. The words on that display were incontrovertible. If Quinlan was convinced…

He passed Lexington. The Corvega assembly plant was another reminder of his failures. Malden. At this point he barely cared if he ever made it to his destination. His head throbbed. How long had it been since he slept?

The sky was darkening again by the time Danse stumbled over the hillside to the old listening post.

He cut the power to the elevator. It wouldn't stop anyone. But he'd have enough warning to decide what to do. They'd probably find him eventually.

It was so damn unfair. He'd given the Brotherhood everything he had only to wind up here, a hole in the ground with U.S. government paraphernalia everywhere. Reminders of another lost cause. The fact that coming here felt like coming home… well, the irony wasn’t lost on Danse.

Why had this happened to him? All he'd ever wanted to be was exactly what he'd thought he was. God. He was a living lie. He was a damn fool and he didn’t know what to do. How the hell could anyone escape their own self?

Slowly... inevitably... the reality of his situation began to sink in. And the room grew colder.

He'd made it this far on pure instinct. Now that his rational mind was engaged, he could turn and face the truth he dreaded: that there was no way out. That the enemy was inside him—that he was his own worst enemy, whether he liked it or not.

The Commonwealth was at risk. Humanity itself was at risk. Nobody could look at the wasteland and think otherwise. Nobody who'd seen the Institute's work firsthand. Certainly no Brotherhood soldier worth his salt.

Most recruits found the restrictions of military life uncomfortable. Danse had never complained. A bed in the Citadel—or later, a berth on the Prydwen–beat the doorways he'd slept in as a child or a sorry bunk in the Rivet City common room. But all that had been secondary to what else the Brotherhood gave him: a place to belong, people to call his brothers and sisters. And more than that, more than anything else, it had given him a purpose in life.

Danse had done things he regretted as a soldier, but the things he'd done to survive as a civilian filled him with a different kind of shame. The humiliation of knowing you weren’t worth shit.

He'd been on good terms with Arthur Maxson, but their backgrounds kept them on opposite sides of an invisible line. He hadn't been all but a prince, carefully sheltered because of the blood that ran through his veins, aware at every moment of his privilege and his responsibility. Danse had come from nothing, been nothing, and the Brotherhood had welcomed him anyway. Made him into someone he could be proud of.

He'd wanted to do something of value, and he had. He'd wanted to be part of something and he'd done that too. If his life was the cost, so be it. He wouldn't betray the Brotherhood. Not when it had given him everything that mattered. What else was he going to do—flee the Commonwealth? No. When they came after him, he wouldn’t resist.

He just hoped it would be quick.

He could speed things along. This site was set up for communication. He could radio the Prydwen right now—turn himself in to Haylen or Maxson or the entire ground force—but all he did was stare at the knob.

Maybe he should just do it himself.

It felt like the walls were closing in. Like all the air was leaving the room. He'd lived this long on stolen time, lived a life that was never meant for him, taken up space in a world he had no right to.

Even surrendering himself would be too much of a risk. Who knew what the Institute had programmed him to do? He could have sabotaged the Brotherhood from within, all the while serving his order with pride and thinking all his decisions were his own. Maybe he’d turn on whoever showed up first. Too much of a risk.

Trapped.

He's trapped.

He's been trapped before.

Another one. God damn it, another one.

There's no way out. How many waves of the things can they hold off without Keane? The ferals just keep coming. Rhys is already out of commission. Haylen's doing her best, but she's not a knight. It's up to Danse... and he's going to let them down. All of them, this time.

But it isn't just up to him, after all. There's someone else here. A stranger, suppressing fire—

“Civilian in the perimeter,” he calls.

Williams isn't coming to save his ass this time. There’s a pang of regret that he won't be able to say farewell. He thinks, vaguely, he might love her—not that it matters now. Not that it could ever matter.

Still... he wants to remember the look on her face the last time he saw her. But he can’t. His mind can only scrabble from one fragmented memory to another: Haylen’s devastation after euthanizing a brother on his orders. Krieg reprimanding him in front of the entire squad for slovenliness. Laughing over drinks with Cutler the day they signed on as Initiates. The flicker of surprise in Cutler’s eyes the moment Danse put a hole between them.

He looks down.

He’s standing in front of an ancient terminal. There’s an old holotape still in the slot. He tugs it out and runs his fingers over the smooth plastic casing, mind circling in the same endless loop. Over and over.

He's wondered how it will happen, of course. They all do. This isn't the glorious battle he once imagined; it isn't the honor of laying down his life for his brothers and sisters. But it's as close as he can get.

All he wonders now is if anyone will find his body. Probably not. What's one more set of bones in the wasteland?

No matter what he does, the Institute is one step ahead. He’s never been able to get away from their scheming and now he knows why: the same people who set the goddamn mutants loose on humanity are the same people who made him. He's an abomination. A mistake. A case study in man's hubris, not a man in his own right.

He refuses to be a part of their schemes any longer.

He records his final words, if that's what they are, and walks slowly into the back room. He sets the holotape on the filing cabinet. Tidies the desk. Checks the safety on his rifle.

The Brotherhood will take down the Institute. He has every faith in that. No more mutants, no more synths, no more sick experiments on the innocent people of the Commonwealth. His friend Williams will have her closure. Danse's own closure is simply arriving earlier than expected.

He lays out his weapons and stares at them. It isn’t an important decision. Any of them will perform the job adequately. He can't die a hero, but at least he can die like a human.

There's no way out.

So he'll add one more synth to the dozens he's already taken down. One small success to the record of Paladin Danse's failures.

He'll shut his eyes. He'll reach for the pistol.

He'll do it. He's doing it now.

When the Protectron blared an alert, Danse's first reaction was irritation. Couldn't the intruders have waited ten damn minutes? He was so close to finishing the job. It wasn't easy, fighting your own instincts that screamed survive, even if you knew better. Even if you knew those instincts weren't real.

Danse didn’t reach for his weapons when the firing started. He should never have been given the honor of carrying arms for the Brotherhood in the first place. His entire life was either a conspiracy or a mistake, and he wasn't sure which was worse. The only thing he knew was that it didn't matter.

He rose to his feet and moved to the middle of the room, empty-handed, and waited. He was calm. It was almost a relief. She'd finally come to finish what he couldn’t—and it was her. Of course it was her.

The shots didn't last long. His half-hearted defenses were no match for Williams. Danse was proud he'd brought such a worthy soldier to the Brotherhood. He was glad he could leave her behind in his place.

And there she was. Nothing felt right, but she was here. That was good. He didn't feel so alone anymore.

In an abstract, distant sort of way, he knew he should regret that she'd be the one to do it. It wouldn't be easy for her. But he was glad. She’d been his friend and he'd get to say a proper farewell.

Yes, this was better. It felt like an ending.

She got straight to the point.

"I wish you'd told me the truth, Danse." Her voice was so weary. So sad.

"I might have, if I'd known what I was." He might be a soulless machine, but he'd never have lied to her. "Does Maxson even want me alive?"

The bitterness in his own words was foreign. He didn't feel bitter. He didn't feel much of anything, actually.

"No," she whispered. "But I don't know what to do."

If he were capable of it, he might have been astonished. Didn't she have her orders? Dragging her heels would just make this harder for her.

"The right thing," he said. "Isn't it obvious?"

She wasn't in Power Armor, but she was carrying the rifle he'd given her. Strange how things had come full circle. Strange, but fitting: Danse had used that same weapon to destroy his closest friend. Now that it was his turn to be put down, he could hardly object.

"No," she gasped. "My God, Danse."

Maybe that was why he'd faltered before. Williams was the missing piece. He'd felt that the night they met and that feeling had never gone away. Now she was struggling, and yes, he was sorry. But it was time.

Danse swallowed. And then he dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his back.

Williams only stared down at him. Her eyes were bright and unblinking. Once again he noticed, in a detached way, how he felt when he looked at her. It was irrelevant. It wasn't for him. But his mind diligently recorded it anyway.

Maybe when he was dead, they'd look at his memories the way they had Kellogg's. Maybe they'd learn everything he’d ever felt about her, every inappropriate thought and—

“Can we just talk?” she said softly. “Just for a few minutes. Please.”

More than anything else, they'd find his shame. Not just about Williams. For all the things he’d thought and done, for everything he hadn't done but wished he had. He didn’t want to undermine Maxson. He couldn't.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped.

"No," she said. "I won't do it, Danse."

Her voice cracked on his name and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and it was like coming to the surface of a murky pond. He was suddenly aware of their surroundings when a moment before he'd only been conscious of her eyes. The stale air of the bunker overlaid the acrid smell of recently fired laser weapons. The miniscule tremble of Cecily Williams's beautiful mouth as she reminded him of everything she'd lost.

She didn't want to lose him.

They did talk. Not just for a few minutes but for hours, until the clock on her Pip-Boy said it was nearly sunrise. They debated and they strategized. He handed over his holotags and slowly the shards of his life took on a new form. She was right. Whatever sick plot the Institute might have intended, he'd done nothing but serve humanity. And there was nothing he could do to hurt the Brotherhood now. He wouldn't let it happen. Neither would she.

It wasn’t perfect—it was a hell of a long way from perfect—but there was a way out. He might have his own path to follow, but he didn’t need to find his footing alone.

And he was worth something. He’d worked for something. He could start over somewhere else and she could continue the fight here. They both deserved that much.

To his surprise, he found he was smiling at her.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

[detectiveidiotboy]

His Time In The Commonwealth IV: Danse

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

i had to take a break from posting for mental health and to deal with some things in my home life, but i'm back now! and with me comes the continuation of this mini-series. now, on to part 4!!! Danse's story.

The walk from Listening Post Bravo to Nordhagen Beach took three days. Had Danse been in top shape and traveling in his power armor, he was certain he could have made the trip in less than two, but speed wasn’t a priority in this mission; this was a pilgrimage.

It had been twelve weeks since his banishment, eighteen days since he’d last had contact with Nate, and seven since the Prydwen had been destroyed.

Danse had only learned about the attack the day before his journey began as he was attempting to trade with a nearby settlement. Nate had been his only source of supplies since he’d begun his self-imposed isolation, and since Nate had stopped showing up to visit, Danse had been left to ration his dwindling supplies until there wasn’t anything left to eat. He had considered allowing himself to starve to death down beneath the earth - continuing his existence was a waste of resources now that he wasn’t even able to serve Nate or the Brotherhood - but that plan only lasted two days after his last meal.

Nate had told Danse to stay alive. Nate had given him orders to care for himself until he returned because Danse was special to him. Danse understood what he was: he was a tool, a synth, a man-made creation meant to serve and obey humankind. If he could not be of use to the Brotherhood directly, then the next best thing he could do was dedicate himself to serving one of their best. Really, if he were honest, the idea of being Nate's personal synth wasn't unappealing to Danse. If anything, it wasn't fair to Nate that Danse be kept around to tempt him into violating Brotherhood rules. Sexual relations with machines was strictly prohibited, as was homosexuality, but Nate carelessly disregard both rules when it came to Danse, and Danse couldn't be more grateful. He was an abomination, therefore it wasn't his place to question a human such as Nate; Nate wanted him alive, and in good health, and because of that Danse had packed a bag with the few things he had to trade and walked to Tenpines Bluff.

As soon as Danse arrived, he was met with guns and suspicion.

“Stay back,” The settler warned, warding Danse back with the barrel of a rifle. “We don’t want nothin’ to do with you or your freak of a friend.”

Danse had been aware that Nate had a… reputation around the Commonwealth. He’d been a witness to several violent (bordering on psychotic) outbursts from the man. However, he had accompanied Nate several times to this particular settlement, and the people there had never been hostile before.

“I… am sorry for any confusion,” Danse said, licking his lips. He was severely out of practice after two weeks of near-total solitude, “Paladin Nate is not accompanying me at this time.”

The settler narrowed their eyes at Danse. “You…  don’t know where he is, do you?”

“I have not had contact with Nate in weeks,” He confirmed. The sights came down after a moment of deliberation and the settler sighed.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” They stretched their head with a hand. “Look. You just missed your buddies, but you should probably keep clear of them - they seemed to think you might have teamed up with Nate when the ship was attacked.”

“Ship? Which ship?” Danse felt his stomach drop, the pieces of the puzzle having presented themselves yet he dare not assemble them.

“The big one you lot got up by Nordhagen,” They said, expression turning from tired to something almost pitying. “You really don’t know what happened? The whole ship was blasted out of the sky. Damn near everyone in Boston had to have seen it - what, have you been livin’ under a rock for the past week?”

“There was an attack on the Prydwen?” Danse asked, taking a panicked step forward. The settler adjusted their grip on the rifle and Danse reminded himself that even without power armor, he was a large and unfamiliar man to these people. “When? Who?”

“About five days ago, I think,” The settler said. “We just heard about it when the survivors came through and raided our supplies - grilled me and my wife for hours about everything we knew about Nate.”

Danse’s heart stopped beating, he was certain of it. Why would the remaining Brotherhood want to know about Nate? The answer was obvious, blindingly so, but Danse couldn’t bring himself to even think it. Nate was Brotherhood, through and through - it was not the place of an Institute machine to question the loyalty of a flesh-and-blood human dedicated to the betterment of humanity.

Swallowing, Danse forced himself to put on a brave face and ask his question. “Was Paladin Nate there at the time of the attack?”

The settler actually laughed, though the question wasn’t funny and neither was his answer. “Was he there? I’m sorry but if what your pals said was true, he was the one that blew the damn thing up.”

Danse had ended up leaving his supplies with the settlers. There was at least 250 caps worth of ammo and scrap in the sack, but it would just weigh him down on his journey. The settlers insisted that he at least stay for dinner and leave in the morning, but Danse saw the state of their garden after the Brotherhood had been through and politely declined. It would be a waste to force humans to part with anything valuable to sustain the functionality of an obsolete machine. He had completely forgotten his hunger anyways; all that mattered to Danse was finding out if what he’d been told was true.

By the time he was close enough to see the empty spot in the sky where the Prydwen should be, he had his answer. Travelers, settlers and raiders alike had confirmed the story with identical depictions of events. According to the few witnesses left, Nate had walked onto the bridge of the ship with a gun and, without speaking to anyone, began assassinating high-ranking members of the Brotherhood, starting with Elder Maxson. The bloody massacre ended with Nate walking into the engine room and detonating an explosion - one that most likely came from the very mini-nukes that Danse had helped Nate secure.

Danse had tried to withhold judgment - he should wait to hear what Nate had to say. The descriptions all came second hand, after all. The Brotherhood survivors had all either retreated or were being treated in what was left of the major settlements. And the description of Nate that he was being given didn’t sound like his friend, his trainee, his partner one bit.

Except…

When Paladin Danse first met Nate, he had been backed against the wall by several hundred feral ghouls threatening the lives of his scouting team. While he would likely be fine so long as the fusion core in his armor held, Hayen and Rhys were vulnerable. He’d already watched the ghouls descend on Keane, tackling the knight in waves. Danse had shot them down, but it was too late. Keane never came back up.

So when Nate walked into the scene, rocket launcher in hand, and blew half of the mob to dust before Danse could finish warning his team to check their fire, he had been inclined to ignore the sinister, psychotic look of glee that Nate wore as he ripped apart the ghouls. Hell, Danse had delighted in it, feeling his men had been avenged. The moment the battle was over and those steel-blue eyes locked onto his, Danse knew he had found someone special.

Nate’s reputation hadn’t quite formed yet, but from the handful of missions that Danse accompanied him on it was clear to tell he would make a fine soldier. He was resilient and a fast shot; anything that stood in his way he took down. It was as if the man was made for the Brotherhood.

Danse offered Nate knight-ship several times before he was taken up on his offer. Nate rarely came to visit when he was in Cambridge, and when he did it was almost always to trade or ask for spare jobs to make a few extra caps. It was only when the Prydwen came rolling through that Nate seemed to seriously consider Danse’s offer. It was strange - Danse feeling honored for Nate to join his ranks rather than the other way around.

Nate made him feel a certain way, something he hadn’t felt since Cutler. Danse could watch Nate fight for hours, muscles flexed under his vaultsuit as he clubbed in the head of a ghoul or gunning down a cluster of synths. His nights were often spent imagining exactly what it would look like if it was his neck that Nate was crushing between those smooth hands and not some random raider. It was foolish, and wildly inappropriate behavior as Nate’s sponsor.

Maybe that was what made him overlook some of the man’s more obvious flaws.

By the time Nate was inducted into the Brotherhood, his reputation as a ruthless and cunning man had become fairly well known. Maxson was willing to overlook Nate’s violent past thanks to a combination of Danse’s vouching and the fact that most of Nate’s targets were shared with the Brotherhood. He had infiltrated and collapsed the Railroad, dismantled the Institute's hold over Diamond City, and struck down the mayor of a mostly-ghoul city in east Boston. His methods were harsh, but they were necessary - at least, that’s what Danse told the Elder.

“Still,” Elder Maxson had said. “It’s best we keep an eye on him. I’m not sure if our new recruit’s heart is in the right place.”

“Believe me, sir,” Danse had told him, “I would trust Knight Nate with my life.”

“That may be so…” Maxson said, “but I still have my doubts. It’s best not to take the word of a known liar at face value, and Nate has quite the reputation of betrayal.”

The truth had been there the entire time. Danse recalled the first time he had met someone who knew Nate outside of the Brotherhood, a young woman by the name of Curie. It had been shortly after the destruction of the Railroad and just before his induction into the Brotherhood. She had seemed nervous around Nate, agreeing a little too quickly to what he said and keeping her eyes on him the entire time. Haylen had taken to her rather quickly, both girls having bonded over shared medical knowledge, and Danse remembered well what she had to say when asked if she liked traveling with Nate.

“Oh- o-oui… I mean…” Her fingers tightened around the cup of tea she had been sipping at. “Monsieur is… complicated, in his motives. I am sure he has good reasons for what he is doing… I simply must trust him. He has done so much for me already.”

Danse had felt her words were foolish. She was lucky to have so much of the man’s attention, and it seemed strange that she didn’t recognize that. Less than a week later Danse watched as Nate dragged her into an abandoned shack, barred the door, and set the house on fire. Later, Nate informed Danse that the girl had been a synth and that he was only doing as the Brotherhood instructed of him. Danse had been forced to agree - despite the vast wealth of knowledge that Curie held, her existence was far too dangerous to be tolerated.

The screams that came from the house as the woman burned alive haunted Danse no matter how many times he reminded himself they were from an artificial being. For a while he wondered if synths could simulate humanity so closely as to feel pain; he had his answer now, he supposed. That girl had died in agony.

The Nate described to Danse during his expedition to the beach was far closer to the Nate in those memories than the idealized soldier that Danse had stuck in his head. The Nate who had eyes like Cutlers and spoke to him as if he were human, even after his synthetic nature was revealed. The Nate who had kissed him in the center of the old radio station on their first official mission into the Commonwealth. The Nate who would disappear for months at a time and then reappear at a moment’s notice, ready to drag Danse along on whatever new quest had taken his fancy. The Nate who never slept in the same bed as Danse after he came around for a quick fuck. The Nate who was rumored to have murdered his girlfriend a year prior. The Nate who had set his previous partner on fire when he was done with her, then walked across the field to press a loving kiss to Danse’s lips as she died. The Nate who had promised Danse to be there for him after his exile only to leave him to waste away in solitude. The Nate who had destroyed the Prydwen.

They were all the same Nate.

When Danse finally made it to the airport, he was surprised by just how familiar it seemed. The carnage had been mostly scraped away by local settlers, leaving behind only the hollowed out remains of training camps and supply stations. The opportunity for a new settlement hadn't been lost on the local population; by the time Danse arrived there were already the makings of several homes under construction. Upon arrival Danse was recognized by his uniform and a handful of the new settlers offered him their condolences. He was shown the way to the resting place for those who had been recovered - little more than a mass grave dug behind the airport marked with scattered crosses and hung holo-tags. It was more than Danse had been expecting. The locals he had met in this area before had despised the Brotherhood with a passion - the fact that they hadn’t just left the bodies to rot while looting everything they could hold from the abandoned stores was a genuine surprise. He walked along the grave sights, checking the tags for names he recognized. He found several, but Haylen and Rhys weren't among them. Whether that meant they were still alive or among the hundreds of nameless casualties, Danse would never know.

Danse turned away gifts of food and offers for a place to rest. His body was at its limit, exhausted and starving, but anything put into it now would be a waste. All of this destruction and death was because of him; he was not the victim, but rather the perpetrator. Danse intended to answer for his sins against humanity.

After politely asking for a moment alone from the concerned settlers, Danse left to walk through the empty airport. He had hoped that there would be something left of the Prydwen on land for him to do this in, but the majestic ship was resting with many of her inhabitants at the bottom of the bay. So Danse found the next best place - the first-story storage area that had been cleared out. He retrieved his pistol from his jacket pocket and knelt down before pressing the end of the barrel to the hollow of his temple.

“I am asking for you to do the human thing here, Knight,” Danse pleaded, knees on the cold, damp ground of the listening post.

“And I’m telling you I don’t want to,” Nate had argued, stubborn as ever. “I like you, Danse, synth or not. I’m not ready to give you up just yet. I need you to stay alive.”

The words had felt so kind at the time. Danse, who was nothing more than a machine lamenting the loss of what it had never really owned, had leaned into those words. They became his anchor, his world, his reason- no- his excuse to keep on living. Looking back on them after seeing the graves of his fellow soldiers - some hung with the hats of squires who were too young to have been given tags yet - he saw those words for what they were: selfishness. Nate acted for his own sake. He served no one but himself, and he had used Danse in every conceivable way. What else should Danse have expected? It was the nature of a machine to be useful to those who took advantage of it.

Danse was a foolish, treacherous, malfunctioning thing, but the very last act he would commit would be a human one. If reincarnation was something that existed for synths, he hoped he would get a chance someday to be more than just a cheap imitation of humanity.

“You know, I’m not an expert with pistols or anything, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to put that end there.”

The gun dropped from Danse’s forehead. He unclenched his eyes and turned to face the newcomer.

“Mind your own business, Scavver,” Danse said wearily, though still managing to push through some of his commanding tone from a previous life, if only so he didn’t prolong this longer than necessary. He could already feel his resolve wavering.

“Aw, come on, man,” The person in the doorway stepped into the room, arms stretched out behind his head in a relaxed pose. A pair of mirrored sunglasses reflected Danse’s haggard appearance back at him. “Haven’t the guys around here had to bury enough bodies this week? Why add to the trauma?”

Danse’s eyes narrowed, but he did stand up and put this pistol back in his pocket. “You make an excellent point,” He said, headed for the door. “I will relocate myself to a more remote location as not to disturb the population.”

“Thaaaat’s not quite what I meant,” The man blocked the exit with an arm and refused to stand down, even as Danse towered over him. “Actually, I have a proposition for you - nothing weird - I promise-” He said, holding out his hands in a show of good faith. Danse used the opportunity to sidestep the stranger and walk out of the old hanger and into the hallway. The man scurried behind him. “So, I can imagine what is going through your mind right now - who is this guy? How did he get to be so handsome? Why doesn’t he want me to blow my brains out in an old-world aircraft hangar?”

Danse ignored the man, which did nothing to stop his ranting.

“In order - My name is Deacon, I moisturize daily, and I want you to join my super awesome resistance movement to take down the rat bastard known as the Sole Survivor of Vault 111-” Danse stopped dead in his tracks. “-though I suppose you were close enough to know him as Nate, right?”

Danse turned to look over the man - Deacon, as he claimed to be. He was bald, as evidenced by his ill-fitting wig sagging just enough to show his absent hairline. He was dressed like a civilian, but up close Danse could see the ballistic armor plates hidden under his flannel shirt. There was a look about him that Danse recognized from some of the scribes, specifically the ones who had been tasked with recon. His eyes twitched at Danse's every movement, and the slight tremor in Deacon's fingers pointed him in the direction of a pistol tucked into the stranger's pants line. In short - Danse’s summary of the man was that there was more to him than just a scavenger with delusions of grandeur.

Still, he turned back around.

“Even if what you are saying is true, I cannot in good conscience accept your offer,” Danse said, continuing his long walk. Deacon kept up pace beside him.

“Really? You’re still loyal to him even after he turned half of your buddies into flaming corpses?”

Danse felt rage hit him in a wave, but years of emotional control stayed his hand. Still, he faltered in his gait. “Nate is dead to me," He said with all the contempt he had left in him. "Should I have the opportunity I would gladly put that monster down myself. My issue is not with your cause, but rather with myself. I am a synth. Taking me into your organization would be too great of a security risk.

“Oh, right, that. Yeah, I already know about that, don’t worry,” Deacon said flippantly. Danse pushed open the double doors leading to the exterior of the airport, and despite letting the doors fall back on Deacon, the man kept following. “I asked a whole bunch of the Brotherhood guys if they wanted to join up, but most of them turned tail and headed back to the capital. But there was always this one guy who they kept mentioning, yeah? A pal of Nate's who turned out to be a synth. The guy was supposedly still running around in the Commonwealth, one M7-97.” Danse took a deep breath, hating every second he spent listening to this man speak. “That’s you right? See, I figured if I hung around here long enough I’d see you. Nate isn’t exactly… good to his friends when he’s done with them. And I’d say blowing up the Prydwen was about as done as done gets.”

“As stated, I am no longer affiliated with him,” Danse said, pausing at the water’s edge when he realized there was no shaking the persistent little pest. “If you are looking for intel on his current location, I have nothing to offer you. Last contact was precisely eighteen days ago at Listening Point Bravo.”

“Oh nah, I didn’t expect anything like that,” Deacon said, coming up beside Danse. He reached down for a rock in the sand and skipped it along the bay. “I just figured joining up with us might be a decent enough alternative to suicide.”

“It is not suicide, it is turning off a broken machine,” Danse clarified. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he was almost certain that Deacon rolled them behind his glasses.

“Well, when that machine is sentient, we call it suicide,” He said with a sigh. “Look, man, I know what you’re going through, believe me.”

Danse’s eyes narrowed, no longer able to keep his contempt from his face. “How could you possibly know that? The Brotherhood was humanity’s best hope for a better future, and because of my malfunction its ranks have been compromised, possibly irreparably.”

Deacon fell down onto his ass, stretching out so his bare feet were caught by the waves as they lapped the shore. “I know 'cause you’re not the only one he’s stabbed in the back,” Deacon said, looking out across the water. “I was part of the Railroad.”

Danse’s neck snapped to the side, looking down at the man. His mouth opened in a prepared lecture about the folly of mistaking synths for human beings and the role of the Railroad in humanity’s doom, but he saw Deacon remove the sunglasses from his face and for the first time he was looking into the other man’s eyes.

“Nate took us out in the dead of night. No one saw it coming,” Deacon continued. “He was a new agent, but the higher-ups put a lot of faith in him, because someone they trusted had recommended him - me.” Deacon looked back towards the waves, propped up with his hands behind him. “Look, I’m not gonna sit around and babysit you. If you want out, there isn’t much I can do to stop you. But right now, I’ll be honest, the only thing keeping me going is revenge, and that’s a hell of a lot better than being dead.”

Silence fell between them. Danse had no idea what to say to all that. On the one hand, he was perfectly happy with the destruction of a dangerous underground movement such as the Railroad, and on the other, the parallels between his and Deacon’s story were not lost on him. Danse knew that the right thing to do was to decline Deacon’s offer - possibly even take the synth sympathizer down with him before he caused any more harm - and continue with his plan to terminate his existence.

But Danse didn’t want to die, or whatever one would call it when a synth ceased to be. And more than that, he didn’t want Nate to keep on living. There were hundreds of people on that ship - men, women, children . Not all of them were good, Danse was well aware of the unsavory types that were often attracted to the military lifestyle, but none of them deserved to die the way they did only to end up buried hundreds of miles from home in a mass grave.

Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was revenge, maybe it was raw, human (or at least human-like) emotion, but Danse finally came to his decision with a decisive nod of his head.

“Okay.” He said. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

[megatontiddies]

Your fallout OC as a companion taken from @goovat ask meme except I'm using it as a writing prompt/ oc development? I guess? because I think it's cool and I'm bored and want to write it all anyways

Anywhompst this is for Alwine and since it's pretty long (like really long you've been warned) I'll throw 'er under the cut

What perk would they give the player?

Occam's Laser

While Alwine is an active companion the player gets +40% damage with laser weapons and +25% headshot accuracy in VATS with scoped laser weapons. One shot kills produce 2X the XP.

How do you recruit them? are there multiple methods?

After the player levels past level 10, or alternatively, upon finding Paladin Danses Recon team Alwine will be found as a new recruit for the BOS. Once the player does the first two repeat quests by Haylen and Rhys and The Lost Patrol quest begins she is available to assist the player in the mission. After the mission is complete she may offer to follow the player as a companion if the player has chosen the more diplomatic speech options with Brandis and Danse. If the player chose the more aggressive/ rude options while speaking with the two then it will require a small speech check in order to be a companion.

What raises and lowers their affinity?

Raises: Minutemen/ Helping Settlement quests, Stealing from wealthy NPCs, BOS quests up until BB, Helping Anyone, Honorable Actions, Amicable Dialogue Choices (for the most part)

Lowers: Murdering innocents, Stealing From Settlers/ Not Well Off NPCs, Unnecessarily Rude Dialogue Options

How do they react to certain things? what do they say? (eg. lockpicking, grabbing junk, killing?)

Lockpicking:

(nostalgic/ thinking to self out loud/ amused) " Really coulda used a trick like that when I got locked outta my house that one time..."

(humorous/ surprised) " And here I was ready to blow 'er open"

(thinking to self out loud/ amused) " Hell o' a lot quieter than kickn' er open"

Grabbing Junk:

(blanket statement/ flatly) "it's amazing what you can build outta junk"

(enthusiastic/ bubbly) "It might be radioactive but if ya render it down with a bit ah castor oil it makes a great paint for glow sights"

(humorous/ matter of factly) "I'd rather carry 40 pounds ah junk than fork up an arm and a leg to buy the same shit later from Crazy Myrna"

Player Overencumbered:

(genuine concern) "If ya keep pickin' shit up you'll slip a disc"

(teasing/ amused/ worried) "Jeeesus look at yah! You look like a pack brahmin!"

(teasing/ amused) "With yer pack so stuffed if ya fall on yer face you'll never get up again"

Murder:

[Alwine Hated That]

(angry/ surprised) "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

(angry/ confrontationally) "You better spit out a good reason for that and fast"

(angry/ bewildered) "Are you for real?"

notes: Alwines reaction to murder is exclusive to people she genuinely feels are innocent. She's comfortable with deaths she deems necessary (or if the person made themselves known as a pretty awful person).

Cannibalism:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(disgusted/ shocked) "oh? OH. Great, like there wasn't enough nightmare fuel out here"

(disgusted/ worried) "In't there, like, a brainworm or sumn' you can get from doin that?"

(disgusted but still attempting to be light hearted/ humorous) "Like it blue eh? I prefer mine rare... a lil less peopley too..."

Stealing in general:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(irritated) "Hope that wasn't somethin important"

(irritated) "Should I be sleeping with one eye open round you?"

(irritated) "Like people don't have enough shit to worry 'bout out here..."

Stealing/Pick Pocketing (but from wealthy/etc NPCs):

[Alwine Liked That]

(approving) "Lord knows they have more than nuff' to share"

(approving) "Doubt they'll even notice it's missing"

(approving/ musing aloud) "The unyielding greed and ignorance of the wealthy was the catalyst of Armageddon"

Pick Pocketing:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(surprised/irritated) "Why don't you spit in his eye while you're at it"

(irritated/ humorous) "I feel like I should put a cat bell on ya"

(irritated) ~audible scoff~ The player is likely being glowered at

Enemies Found:

(Shocked/ Excitably) "Y' ello!"

(loudly/ warning) "On yer flank!"

(loudly/ shocked) [weirdish sound presumably before lashing out a punch of hit of some form] " GWEHHK!"

Enemies Lost:

(quietly/ nervous) " shit... where'd you go you bastard"

(quietly/ nervous) " Lost 'em"

(quietly/ to self/ nervous) " I swear to lord if ya jump out at me..."

Enemies Killed:

(satisfied/ calmly) "good riddance to bad rubbish"

(loudly/ excitable) "Bingo!"

(quietly/ almost a whisper/ to self) [only if player is sneaking] "...bingo bango bongo..."

Player stops talking mid conversation:

(sympathetic/ lighthearted) "Sometimes I loose track of my thoughts too"

(genuine worry) "Ya good? Take yer time."

(humorous/ teasing) "Not a thought between those eyes is there?"

Player removes all garb:

(shocked but also amused/ between light laughs) "oh?"

(mindless banter/ avoidance) " This would probably be a good stun tactic if y'aint fraid of gettin yer tidbits shot"

(humorous/ almost scolding) "Y'aint invisible... just so ya know"

Player loots a corpse:

(plainly) "Any ammo?"

(joking/ light hearted) "Guess they won't be needing that anymore"

(statement/ plainly) "Grim business but you can find some good stuff sometimes."

Player starts swimming:

(plainly/ matter o factly) "Ain't no way I'm going in there"

(humorous but fear is present in voice) "If a big fish decides you look like lunch I ain't gonna be able to help ya"

(almost nostalgic/ sarcastic) "Yeah me and the brick tied for the swimming contest back in 63... I'll just stay on the shore"

Player jumps from high place:

(genuine concern) "ouch! you good?"

(soft yell/ concerned/ as if watching player fall) "aaAAaaa!?"

(oblivious to the player falling) "Where'd ya go?"

Do they periodically give the player items? what kind of items?

Bowls of various soups if player interacts between 5 and 9 PM. Every other time she'll give the player Fusion Cells.

Would they be able to do specialized task? (eg. repairs, hacking)

Not necessarily a task but if the player was to put various junk/ weapons in her inventory then she will periodically/ randomly mod them.

Would they be romancable?

Yeah probably? I think? In my AU she romances Paladin Danse but that would probably not be something that could happen as an NPC in Fallout 4 so??

If it were something like Mass Effect it would probably be like a Garrus/ Tali situation where if the player never romanced either characters then they would form a romance.

Do they have a unique outfit or weapon?

Alwine wears a black BOS jumpsuit for the first half of the game up until BB. After that she'll wear military fatigues. She'll wear the same over armor (BOS heavy armor) for both but after BB the BOS symbols are sanded off. It would be a unique unremovable armor set.

What would be their personal quest, if they have one?

This one is a bit weird since the player would be taking the role of the Sole Survivor. That being said I've always found that one empty cryo-chamber at the end of the vault hall interesting. There probably is a reason for that (like it just wasn't occupied or the occupant died before vault scientists had their spit) but for the sake of this AU/ prompt we'll say that she had a similar entrance to the vault as the sosu, bringing her babe into the vault and getting frozen with Kellogg snatchin both their children (this is lazy writing I know but I don't know how to write this without fundamentally changing her character). The only difference is that somehow maybe Alwine was released/ thawed earlier and got a bit of a head start. Because Alwine is no longer the sosu she wouldn't of encountered Preston at Concord and Codsworth likely either wouldn't of recognized her or simply acted like it was prewar and spoke to her only as if that was the same narrative giving her no sense to what was happening or how much time has elapsed. Alwine would of wandered out on her own and then stumbled onto Paladin Danses recon team and eventually got inducted in hopes of finding her child.

For her personal quest it would likely be trying to find evidence on what happened to her child. The quest would start with the player character going into the institute, and since companions can't follow the player there (minus X6), she would request that they find out what happened. After some digging the player will discover that Alwines child was killed in experimentation over 60 years ago in trials to make experimentation safer for 'father'. The player can bring this information back and Alwine will be devastated but grateful for the player finding this out for her. Despite being fairly amicable with the player she insists she needs time to grieve and that following the player is a cold reminder of the pain. Regardless of what the player says she parts ways with the player and goes back to the Prydwen and will idle there until the Liberty Reprimed quest where she will disappear from the map. Alwine will remain missing from the map until Blind Betrayal where she will be standing outside the bunker blocking Elder Maxon, as well as arguing with him, from entering the building. The player's choices will affect how Alwine responds.

- If the player executed Paladin Danse within the bunker then Alwine will become immediately hostile to the player. She will be forced to be killed by either the player or Maxon.

- If the player spares Danse then chooses to execute him when confronted by Maxon then Alwine will make it clear that she will not hesitate to become hostile to defend her friend. With a red speech check the player can convince her to stand down but she will be remorseful and refuse to follow the player afterwards and disappear off the map. Her body surrounded by a myriad of dead raiders will then be a random encounter while wandering the commonwealth. If the speech check is failed she will become hostile forcing the player, or Maxon, to execute her.

- If the player spares Danse then convinces Maxon to spare him then Alwine will express gratitude and her perk will become available. Unfortunately for Alwine her disobedience and willingness to become hostile towards the elder causes him to kick her out of the brotherhood. She will remain at the bunker with Danse until the player completes the quest and then upon the player returning Danse will disclose that she has gone to the Castle in order to join the Minutemen where she can be reobtained as a companion.

What are their opinions on certain factions? (eg. brotherhood, NCR)

Minutemen:

Genuinely believes that they have the best interests for the Commonwealth. Worries that they lack the men and firepower to take on the Institute or any other large faction that could pose a threat. This Worry is dissuaded after The Nuclear Option and her affirmation towards them only increases. With time, resources, and good leadership, Alwine believes they could become a major player even outside of the Commonwealth.

BOS:

At first is amazed by their technological advancements and firepower especially compared to the rest of the Commonwealth. The comradery is nostalgic and comforting for Alwine as it reminds her of her days in the US Military as a Power Armor Mechanic. After some time she realizes that they're a bit lost for direction grasping at straws for purpose and that their idea of "freeing the Commonwealth" might be misinformed well intention fueled by fear and dogma. When she was new to the commonwealth and didn't understand much about anything really the fearmongering and racism towards ghouls and synths were more tolerable (but still uncomfortable) it eventually become almost intolerable the longer she stayed and the more informed she became about the natures of both.

Railroad:

At first is weary of them. Alwine is careful around people who keep secrets and after spending so much time in the Brotherhood interacting with the Railroad pushes her hackles up. She does like how they work to help the synths, especially after BB, despite being mostly associated with the BOS. She becomes more comfortable after becoming more educated about synths, between the Railroad themselves informing her and the data collected by the player at the Institute itself, and eventually embraces the Railroad as a necessity after BB.

Gunners:

Heavily dislikes them. To her they're essentially just militarized raiders.

Institute:

Has a hate towards them that just strengthens over time. Their ignorance and misuse of technology is both a tragedy and crime. For the most part she pities them but strongly believes that their destruction is absolutely necessary.

Nuka World:

They're raiders so Alwine is pretty hostile towards them. Despite this their organization and brutality makes Alwine careful about making them enemies. If possible she would work to keep them out of the Commonwealth as much as possible or at the very least work to create some kind of truce of sorts to prevent a major confrontation (which would likely be devastating to both sides).

Atom Cats:

They remind her a lot of her friends prewar with the way they talk and their fondness for power armor. She likes them.

Children of Atom:

Alwine believes in freedom of belief as long as said belief does not infringe on the beliefs and freedoms of others. As long as they are respectful of herself and others she will act the same. Alwine is also a bit curious about them she would likely ask a bunch of questions if they allowed it. Other than that she would keep her distance, mostly due to the rads.

General voice lines? (in reaction to companion wheel selections)

Talk:

(friendly/ bubbly) "What's crackalacin"

(friendly/ inquisitive) "You okay?"

(spacy/ broken out of thought) "Hmm?"

Trade:

(friendly/ bubbly) "What's mine is yours"

(joking/ teasing) "finally got tired of carrying that junk eh?"

(joking within a genuine question) "Hey maybe I can carry the big guns instead of the junk for once....no? maybe?"

Follow:

(plain/ firm statement) "Got it"

(bubbly) "Comin!"

(bubbly/ softly) "Oke Doke"

Wait:

(plainly) "alrighty"

(plainly/ softly) "I'll just sit tight"

(masking nervousness through humor) "Don't leave me here too long... might forget what I'm waitin' for and wander off"

Where would you find them in the world?

She would be located at the Cambridge Police Station. Then later at the Castle.

Which game would they be from?

Fallout 4

Miscellaneous facts?

If the player puts alcohol in her inventory and the player gets 'drunk' she will match the player for drinks and her basic dialogue will be slurred for a short time after

Alwine will loot the entirety of corpses, clothes and all, when asked to loot bodies.

Alwine will periodically build weapon and armor mods which can be taken out of her inventory by the player

Alwine refuses to go in water and a hit box specifically for her prevents her from entering. This results in a glitch that has Alwine swimming in the air several feet above the water while the player is swimming.

If the player uses console commands to force Alwine into the water she will sink to the bottom similar to if she were wearing power armor. Note: This does not affect her health she will just idle at the waterbed.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

how about companions (+sturges) reacting to a sole who gets injured? :))

(Love that you requested to add sturges, hope you enjoy!)

Cait:

"Ya just had to go off and act the fool eh? What did I tell ye about that? Did you want to become super mutant puppy chow?"

Though she may sound rough at first, it comes from a place of true concern. Damn those green skinned freaks, especially their hounds. Had you just been a second quicker with your trigger finger, maybe you wouldn’t have the perfect outline of a mutant hound’s teeth imprinted into your thigh. It didn’t matter now though, no, what mattered to her now was making sure to get you some place safe enough for her to pour out her trusty flask of whisky onto your wounds and duct tape it up.

It would have to do for now..

Curie:

"Oh mon dieu..well, at least this is what I specialize in madame/monsieur."

Honestly this is best case scenario! She is equipped with a vast medical knowledge and proper instruments so..be it a simple scrape or broken bones, she’ll have you feeling like new!

Danse:

"Listen to me soldier, I need you to remain perfectly still for me. I know it hurts but just..stay calm."

In your line of work, getting messed up was well..let’s just say it’s an occupational hazard. Danse knew this quite well, but it still didn’t stop him from paling when he realized just how beat up you were after a straggler ghoul threw itself at you.

Once the firefight was done and he could properly asses you, he’d suck in a sharp breath, hesitantly stripping any necessary layers before doing his next to put into action what little field medicine he could remember from boot camp.

Probably not as good as going to a doctor...but he made it to where you wouldn’t bleed out.

Deacon:

"Oh..does your arm usually resemble jelly? I'm ju- just playing, oh..oh god."

Like always, deacon would use his humor as his go to..even when he felt like he was going to throw up when he heard the sick “crack” of your arm as you fell right down on it.

Whenever you got back to hq, he’d be certain to bug Carrington and Tinker Tom until you were feeling better.

Gage:

"I'll give ya a reason to cry if you don't shush it boss...now, do you need me to carry you back?"

Running around in Dry Rock Gulch probably wasnt the best idea you ever had, especially becoming apparent when you took a hard fall after tripping over one of the cut out props. No big deal right? Wrong. The minute you tried to stand you found yourself yelping in pain as a hot stinging sensation seized your ankle.

Rolling his eyes, Gage initially thought you were just being over dramatic but he soon realized he was wrong when he saw how much your ankle began to swell. He’d feel pretty bad for being so rough with you but he’d make up for it, making good on his word by literally carrying you piggy back style to properly address your injuries within the comfort of your “home” in fizztop.

Hancock:

"Now that doesn't look too good. Uh..here just sit down right there and wait. Mmh, now would you like to hit that jet I was offering? Too soon? Sorry..."

Fights and the resulting injuries were not something he ever backed down from. Lord knows he isn’t the squeamish type. That’s probably why you were just as surprised as him when his eyes went wide and he had to take a couple steps back..that is until you looked down and saw the rather deep gash into your mid section..heh, must be the shock keeping you from feeling it.

Regardless he would actually be flipping out, trying to play it cool by offering the chems when really he was having a meltdown on the inside.

Macready:

"Just hold still boss and..try not to look?"

He physically grimaced when he heard your body “plop” forcefully into the wall, the raider responsible for the force soon finding themselves without a jaw as you pulled the trigger against their chin with your own pained scream.

However it was when you helplessly whimpered, your arm hanging unnaturally at your side..he knew he had to help. As such, he’s seen this before thankfully, so he’d put you up against the wall before roughly putting your shoulder back in it’s place....desperately trying to not flinch when he heard your cries.

Damn.

Maxson:

"Sentinel? Oh..oh crap...Well don't just stand there, Knight! Someone go get Captain Cade immediately!"

Everything has seemed just fine. For purely official reasons, you were giving him a run down report of the recent mission, ignoring the less than subtle way his eyes lingered on the blossoming purple hue on your head during the entire time. The vertibird ride back up to the prydwen was awful..during the fight with the “muties” you lead your team through, one managed to hit you hard enough to shatter the glass visor on your helmet. Sure it hurt, there wasn’t anyway it wouldn’t..expect this injury was unique because well...for one you heard church bells in your head and could barely form an intelligible sentence without saying “uuuhhh” or pausing.

However even Arthur couldn’t help but break his professional exterior when his precious high ranking officer crumpled down to their knees right in front of him, your team hurriedly scrambling to get you up to the bay clinic, Elder Maxson right there beside you.

Nick:

"Wow..um, this would be a whole lot easier if you were made of steel and bolts. Never mind that, just hold tight, I'll have Ellie send for doctor Sun."

True to his word, he’d send his nice secretary out to fetch the doctor, taking matters into his own hands when he deemed it was taking too long. With a soft sigh he’d try to hide what little annoyance he felt..damnit he told you to be more careful..no matter what though he couldn’t stay too mad. So with a concentrated gaze, he’d carefully tend to your wounds- making Doctor Sun quite pissed when he finally reached the agency.

Old Longfellow:

"Told ya so....seriously though, you've got to be more careful cap'n. Now, bottoms up."

Had you done anything else he might’ve felt a little bad for laughing as hard as he did. He told you to be careful, you swinging that hammer around so carelessly. Just like he expected, you may have gotten a little too overzealous when you nailed down the board’s frame together, not moving your thumb out of the way before BAM!

With a pouty scoff you’d admit that yes, he was right, and after a smug smirk he’d pour you a nice stiff drink to full the pain.

Piper:

"Oh damnit, you uh..you're looking a little weird there. Hey, why don't we just sit down hm?"

If anyone would’ve gotten word of it, they would’ve thought it was hilarious. “The big, bad, fearsome sole survivor! Faints from stubbing their toe.” That would be one hell of an article, people around the commonwealth would eat it up. She wouldn’t dare do that to you though..no matter how silly it was. I mean, she’s seen you get shot and not break so much as a sweat but....you literally crumpled when you stubbed your baby toe?

After she got over the shameful laughter she tried desperately to keep in, she’d scramble to go pick you back up-leaving you to wonder why and how you ended up in piper’s bed back at the “publick occurrence”.

Preston:

"General, I mean, (y/n)..is there anything I can do for you? Name it and I'll do it."

He knew something was terrible wrong when you can stumbling back to the castle, your right arm clutching the left with a terrible pained expression on your face. After further investigation and your sheepish confession of just what had happened..he felt god awful.

If only he had been there to help you.

Nonetheless he’d make up for it now. His first mode of action was to personally escort you to get you looked at, after that he’d be there at your every beck and call.

Sturges:

"This is sorta what I meant when I told you people weren't as easy to fix...heh, not funny. Don't worry, I'll make sure to take care of ya."

It was a miracle you were even able to make it back to Sanctuary..well, it was a miracle and Preston’s assistance to be exact. As much as it pissed you off, instead of such a grave injury being because of some grand battle, you stupid power armor malfunctioned. One minute you were walking around, testing out the new modifications you made to the leg structures until next thing you know, your left leg’s frame failed and seized up. Usually such a thing wouldn’t have been a problem but, you were still walking when it did

With a sickening *snap* you felt such great pain that the ground beneath you began to sway, suddenly finding yourself unable to move without screaming.

Just as you felt you were going to lose all consciousness, Preston himself pried you from your armor and carried you back home where you were immediately posted up with a certain someone at your side.

Sturges, oh sweet, sweet Sturges.

Despite what many would assume, he’s pretty damn good at catering to you. Even if you practically shooed him away at times, he’d be right there to do his best to help you rewrap your bandages and lighten the mood some. Heck, he’ll even find someway to fix you up some crutches and a wheelchair for easier transportation.

X6-88:

"Just relax ma'am/sir, I'll be certain to have you properly tended to shortly."

In the wasteland it was painfully common to end up being shot. Matter of fact, it’s somewhat of a “christening” of the commonwealth. Well maybe not, either way it was just a way of life at this point.

So it wasn’t exactly shock inducing whenever X6 saw your bleeding shoulder, however he was still damn concerned. As such, he ever so calmly removed your jacket while you weren’t paying attention- receiving a startled gasp in return..as well as a pained grimace that made him flinch. With a sigh he’d shake his head, reassuring you before looking up and requesting teleportation back to the institue where he’d personally escort you to the nearest medical personnel.

[cxsmic-reactions]

Companions react to a settler shooting Sole: (Cait,Curie, Deacon, Danse, Preston and X6)

Basic Training. Basic training was all they needed to protect themselves. And Sole and their faithful companion were going to teach them. Ever since Sanctuary got raided and Marcy almost got shot to death, there was a high demand for protection. And so that's what they did. Sole lined up a few targets and told them to fire. Once all the bottles and cans were either broken or down Sole began to line them up again. But before Sole could finish stacking and say “start” a loud bang pierced the air. Sole stood there in awe as they touched their body to reveal the now present bloodstain

Cait:

Cait had complained about teaching them because she felt they should learn on their own. But Sole refused and did it anyway. Even thought she didn't agree Cait still was there to watch the whole thing, because something in her mind said to stay and watch. After the first round of fire Cait decided enough was enough and went to go get a beer but before she could walk away there was a loud “BANG” in the air. Followed by a loud scream. Cait had turned her attention to the person holding the gun. Marcy. But before she could teach Marcy a lesson in the corner of her eye she saw Sole collapse. Without hesitation Cait rushed to their side immediately. “Hang in there I got you”. After a few minutes of her putting pressure on the wound Curie finally arrived with medical supplies to treat the wound. She got a few settlers to carry Sole into a room so they can perform surgery. But before Cait could join them Curie told her to stay out. Frustrated Cait stormed out only to got bite Marcy’s head off. It took Deacon, Danse, and Piper to stop her from killing Marcy. After a few hours of waiting Cait was finally able to see Sole. Rushing to Sole’s side Cait began to tear up. “Don’t ever scare me like that, bastard”.

Curie:

Curie was freaked out but she knew exactly what to do without hesitation she rushed over to Sole to help them to a bed. She got some medical supplies from another settler and started the procedure. Sole had been yelling due to the pain and this had cause Curie to break down a little. Eventually Sole passed out due to shock and Curie was able to focus again getting the bullet and its fragments all out within good time. After a few hours, Sole had woken up from their sleep only to thank Curie who was at their bed side the whole time. Ever since that day, Curie has never been apart from Sole for too long.

Deacon:

The railroad agent had warned Sole about training people who knew nothing about guns but Sole refused to listen. And now they were on the ground bleeding to death. As Curie rushed over to help, all Deacon could do was just stand there in shock. No jokes, no laughs, not even a sly comment. The man after many long years was finally speechless. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He shook his head in dismay before following Curie and a few settlers in a backroom of one of the houses. Before he could get a glimpse of Sole, Curie pushed him out of the room and began her operation. An hour later Sole was stable and alive which made Deacon tear up a bit. Rushing to Sole’s side Deacon put his hand on their head and chuckled. Oh Sole.

Danse:

Danse was absolutely against training Civilians, especially settlers that had no military background. He had a feeling that something could or would go down, so he kept his eyes peeled on both Sole and the settlers. Looking away from a Sole for a split second he heard the gun shot. Darting towards the firing gun then towards the loud scream a few seconds afterwards. As soon as his eyes glanced over Sole, fear immediately took over his body. Running over to Sole and helping them up, he threw a flare on the ground. Waiting for the Vertibird to arrive Danse applied pressure to the wound while conversing with Sole so they stayed conscious. Arriving a few moments later the Vertibird rushed over the Prydwen, Sole was rushed to medical bay. Sitting in the mess hall Danse waited to get the news. Only a few hours later Danse heard a knock at his door. Opening the door he instantly started lecturing a patched up Sole in front of him. But can you blame him? That's just how he shows love.

Preston:

Preston was absolutely thrilled to train the settlers, he just didn't know it would turn out like this. Preston was shaking and walking back and forth in the waiting room waiting on Curie to bring back the long awaited news. Hearing the door open and close Preston turned his eye making eye contact with a patched up Sole. He couldn't hold back anymore tears running down his face Preston ran over to Sole pulling them into his arms carefully. Crying he made Sole not to scare him like that ever again.

X6-88:

X6 thought that training the “Commonwealth Scum” was a huge waste of time and recommended not doing it but Sole did it anyway. Once he saw Sole struggling to stand he ran over to them and instantly relaying to the institute to get medical help. Once they got there Sole was immediately rushed to the Medbay. Before he could follow, one of the doctors ordered him to the Directors quarters to await further instruction. Doing as he was told, X6 sat in the quarters staring at the wall which felt like hours. His attention was snapped to the door opening and seeing Sole walking in to X6. Seeing that Sole was okay he nodded towards them and left with a slight smile on his face.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Nineteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, one and all! I hope your day is going well. Tagging @anonymouscosmos​, @culturalrebel​, @mercy-and-malice​, @deepkittycollecto​, @nelba​, @mechanicalism​ and @commandershepardshtole. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains distressing flashbacks, gratuitous violence and extreme emotional duress. Stay safe!]

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never really considered that he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed. Oh certainly, he had heard many a 'Paladin Dense' joke in his time with the Brotherhood; his name made it far too simple to engage in semi-witty wordplay.

  Here and now though, facing down seven coursers with nothing except his laser rifle and power armor, he was beginning to slightly... slightly doubt his own intelligence. 

  The first courser was managed easily enough, rushing him in a suicidal dash. Danse blew their head off without missing a beat, continuing his march forward. The worst part of it all was the silent hatred he felt radiating from the coursers, like a thick miasma of ill will. He wondered pointlessly whether this was how he would meet his end. Trapped in the sterile halls of the Institute, torn apart by this rabid crew of synth hunters.

  "I escaped from you all before, if your records are accurate." The paladin snarled as two of the coursers vanished into thin air. "I doubt any of you would recall. I myself do not recall much of this place."

  The spinal recalibration chair crouched in the center of the white room, needles gleaming in the brilliant light--

  A laser pinged! off his chest plating and Danse bared his teeth, taking another step forward. "I know all of your weaknesses, every last one of them. You might as well give up and face Commonwealth justice." He advised them sternly, brandishing his laser rifle in further threat. 

  "Forget about him, go and find Vega!" One of the cloaked coursers spat from somewhere behind Danse's back. "Father wants her dea--" The paladin pulled a sharp turn, putting a laser bolt directly through the invisible courser's skull with... alarmingly precise accuracy. Of course, that may have been their tactic to begin with. A body crashed against his back and Danse heard the tell-tale alert beep of an unmounted fusion core.

  "A Brotherhood soldier is nothing without their power armor." The third courser taunted while Danse slowed under the ponderous weight of his armor. However, the courser's confidence was short-lived as the paladin used the little momentum he did have to instead fall backwards, crushing the synth beneath the massive frame of his armor. 

  The fusion core clattered and spun just out of reach on the floor, but Danse didn't even have the time to think about moving to grab it before two coursers were on him. Gloved hands clawed at his helmet; a fist slammed into the side of the metal with a resounding impact. Thank Steel the gorget seal held, and Danse managed to move his arm quickly enough to batter one of the coursers away with the sheer bulk of the gauntlet alone. The courser crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  Danse frantically tried to count in his head, tried to recall how many coursers he still had to manage. He could barely move, already stringing himself along on little but adrenaline and the promise of seeing the sun again. How many hours had they been down here? It seemed like an eternity.

  What would the EMP do to him? God, should he even risk it? 

  The paladin dragged himself up onto one knee, scrabbling at his waist for the grenade while that other courser seized the back of his helmet and ripped it off. The crackle of his mouthpiece dislodging itself from the helmet to dangle limp over his gorget seemed almost too loud.

  Danse pulled the pin on the EMP as the square barrel of a laser rifle buried itself beside his ear, and his world went white.

  …

  The smooth, cool surface of the floor that his cheek rested on was the only thing he could feel. 

  - No! Voice cracking, screaming as he was wrestled down into the chair by the scientists, needles punching through his skin until the largest caliber ground into the nape of his neck please don't please don't -

  - No! Cutler shrieking, misshapen green flesh pouring out around the strangling confines of his armor, his eyes gone mad but it's still him it's still him I can't -

  - No! Elizabeth collapsing on top of him, the heat of her blood soaking through his shirt, her whole body thrown between he and Maxson no no no no NO -

  Danse noticed, with a sense of detached horror, that his heart appeared to have stopped. The lack of pulse rang in his ears, one agonal gasp crushed his chest and then another rattled his body while everything in him fought to inhale. His consciousness was fading, flickering out like a candle in a gale as his rate of respiration continued to plummet.

  Elizabeth, I'm so sorry .

  His eyes were heavy, gritty with exhaustion. He should sleep. Just for a moment. 

  "- anse? Danse! Paladin Danse!"

  Someone was yelling his name, and another voice that was closer shouted, "Open fire on the courser! Advance to secure the paladin!"

  Suddenly, his heart shuddered to life, his pulse returning with a vengeance that seemed like it would deafen him. Danse heaved in a gasp of air, wheezing, body awash with clammy sweat as he tried to turn his head. Nausea sent his stomach rolling at the motion and a headache throbbed behind his eyes but he was alive --

  Boots on the floor beside his head, someone standing over his body. "Grab his core and plug it back in! We need to get out of here!" Minutemen, Minutemen . It was Delta squadron doing their final sweep. Muskets roared overhead like death from above, the cacophony serving to further deafen the battered paladin. 

  He forced himself up onto his left elbow so that one of the Minutemen could slam the fusion core home in his back plating. The servos in Danse's armor creaked and groaned once more, and the paladin rose with relative ease. 

  "Our egress has been secured, sir!" A young soldier informed him loudly, her cheek smeared with the blood that trickled from her left ear. 

  Danse, still queasy and unsteady after his near death experience ( had he technically died? Did synths die? ), simply nodded and reached to accept his helmet from another Minuteman. 

  A laser bolt cracked! off the side of the helmet and the Minuteman dropped it in surprise. Danse lurched around, hauling up his gauntlet to shield his head from the next bolt that came. His free hand shot out of its own volition and he grabbed... something , slamming it back against the wall with all his strength 

  The courser flickered into view, Danse's gauntlet wrapped around his throat. The paladin almost wanted to wonder at his good fortune, but then the synth simply evaporated out of his grasp. " Dammit , his emergency relay." Danse swore hoarsely.

  "Sir, we don't have time. The reactor is due to go at any second!" The armored man was all but dragged along, pushed and herded by the soldiers around him. His heart kept skipping beats, leaving him breathless and lightheaded as he struggled to keep up with his battalion.

  "What news do we have of General Vega?" He yelled to anyone that would answer him. The shot from the courser had entirely destroyed what was left of the two-way transmitter in his helmet, rendering him unable to communicate with their main forces.

  "No news, sir! Alpha squadron has already pulled out! We have reports from squadrons Echo, Foxtrot and Golf that synths have been sighted relaying in to their respective territories!" One of the soldiers replied, his tones clipped to be heard over the sound of the cabal's battle-rattle. "No word from Beta squadron on casualties yet, and Charlie is still waiting on us as of two minutes ago!"

  The paladin cursed under his breath, his step hitching and nearly causing him to fall. Elizabeth, please , please be alive! He wasn't sure who he was praying to, or even why the hell he was bothering. He should have known better than to think his foolhardy plan to secure her escape would work.

  Back through the old robotics area they stormed, everyone moving doubletime at this point. Alarms blaring overhead, PA system calmly announcing their fast-diminishing window to flee. Blood trickled down into his eyes from somewhere up on his scalp, stinging badly enough to briefly take Danse's mind off of his other injuries.

  The door at the top of the stairs was wide open, and Danse's relief was crippling when he spied Sturges still at the control panel. The engineer whooped upon seeing the ragged group of men and women. "First in, last out! Now let's get the hell outta' here!" He shouted, waving the soldiers into the relay area. "We only got a minute or so until the whole place goes!"

  Danse opened his mouth to ask whether Sturges had already transported Vega, but he was too late. Blue-white energy crackled and fizzled around him and the next thing he knew, he was being unceremoniously deposited on the ground in the shadow of the Prydwen.

  …

  "General, it's time." Preston said quietly. Backhand stared off into the distance, every fresh crackle of radio static making her heart drop. "We have to get this done. It needs to be finished," he continued when she stayed silent. "If you can't push it, that's fine. I know we did our best." 

  Reports had come in left and right that synths were being sighted across the Commonwealth, emergency relays dropping them in the most random of places. Every squadron had been accounted for, aside from Delta and Charlie. 

  "Did we do the right thing, Preston?" Backhand breathed. "Just think of all the good -"

  "I don't think we'll ever know for certain, General. That's the reality of these kinds of scenarios. But you don't need me to tell you that." Preston interjected, his practical words shoring up her limited resolve. "You want me to do this?"

  Vega closed her eyes, nodding rapidly. She heard the rustle of that outrageous coat, and a moment later there was the soft click of the charge being armed. 

  "It's done, General."

  "Thank you, Preston." Vega sank down on the rooftop, tugging her knees into her chest and burying her face in them. The distant explosion tore a sob from her throat and as the Institute collapsed in on itself, General Vega dissolved into tears.

  It felt like an eternity before Preston coaxed her to her feet, the lieutenant pressing his canteen into her hands. "Drink." He urged, his own eyes less than dry. " Drink , General. You're gonna' be okay. We'll get back to the Prydwen, back to your son. It'll all be just fine."

  "I know." Vega mumbled through a mouthful of stale water, doing her best to ignore the plume of smoke that rose in the distance. "I'm okay, I promise. It's just a lot. I'm okay." She tried to assure Preston, huffing at his watery chuckle.

  "No, you're not. You're exhausted and busted up and scared. This is a hell of a thing we've done, you've done. It's okay to be overwhelmed." Preston reasoned, grimacing. "We've got a decent walk back, if you need to talk."

  "What about you , though? How are you holding up?"

  "I'm not sure if it's real yet." Preston admitted. "It'll take some getting used to. But...I'm glad to know that we don't have to fear the Institute anymore."

  His lapel radio crackled, Pride squadron requesting verification on successful detonation.

  "Relay our message to the Castle: mission accomplished, the Institute has been leveled. I repeat, mission accomplished." Preston replied into the handset, seeming a little shell-shocked at being able to say the words.

  Mission accomplished .

  Backhand sniffled, a new wave of emotion threatening to send her spiraling yet again. 

  Shaun . The synthetic child. A child. A son . A second chance that she didn't deserve.

  She fished the holotape he had given her out of her pocket, slotting it into her Pip Boy after a momentary struggle. To her shock, it was Father's voice that issued from the speaker.

  " If you are hearing this, then whatever conflicts you and I have endured are over… "

  …

  Danse wandered across the airport tarmac, some distant part of him aware that he was in a state of shock. He had dropped his helmet. Where, he couldn't say. His head was still bleeding and he was certain that other areas of his body needed medical attention, but he couldn't seem to get himself to stop searching the area for Elizabeth.

  He hadn't seen her, the child or that courser that had warned them of the ambush. His heart sank as he wondered whether the synth had simply been a tool to get him out of the way, separating the paladin from Vega.

  Why had Vega parted from Alpha squadron in the first place? Oh surely, he knew exactly why. She had wanted to confront that man who had once been her son on her own. But it had been reckless , and it may have cost them dearly. 

  Danse groaned, very nearly attempting to rub his eyes before he remembered he was still in his armor and he would probably blind himself in the process. 

  All around him were wounded Minutemen, scribes and aspirants rushing back and forth to try and mediate the damage that had been done. The synths and scientists were easy to spot, each one clad in brilliant white Institute garb. They huddled together in small groups, some crying, some silent, others staring around wide-eyed in wonder. 

  Danse realized suddenly that this would be the first time many of them had even seen the sun. He must have been like them once, all curiosity and fear. He shook his head, more blood dripping into his eye causing him to wince. The paladin grunted, clumsily smearing the trickle from his hairline across his forehead with his gauntlet. It must be mixing with his sweat. 

  "Danse!" That voice…

  The paladin racked his brain, trying to recall the name of the person who owned the voice. 

  It started with a P. 

  Writing. Writer? Wright .

  Piper?

  The woman materialized out of the throngs of scribes, her cap set at a steep angle. In her hand she clutched a battered notepad, and she waved it furiously as if to get Danse's attention. "Hey, big fella'! Over here!" She called, rocking on her heels impatiently while the paladin trudged towards her. "What the hell happened to you in there? You look like a stretch of lonely road!"

  Danse hiccupped, trying for a salute. His arms felt like lead. "I...There was--I-I was separated-" The words wouldn't come, the paladin still reeling from his near-death experience, the loss of Vega, everything , it was too much.

  Was he crying?  

  "Oh Danse, hey, c'mon, easy." Piper soothed, one hand tentatively hovering over his right gauntlet. "It's okay big fella', it's alright." 

  Danse shook his head, utterly mortified as he tried to regulate his sobs. 

  "I was about to ask for a full run-down from a tactical perspective. Y'know, to uh, ease the fears of the Commonwealth populace at large. but I can see that you're in a...er, state right now." Her attempt at delicacy didn't go unnoticed and Danse gritted his teeth. His hands clenched into tight fists as he fought to get himself back under control. These damn emotions-!

  "The operation appears to have been successful." He rasped finally. "We are still...waiting on confirmation. But I am c--I am confident in our success. I am...uncertain of our losses. My two-way was destroyed in the fracas." He gestured at the mangled mess of wires and what was left of the coupling attached to his gorget. God only knew where he had dropped his helmet, but it didn't really matter. If the coursers tearing it off of him hadn't broken the two-way wholly, that final laser had finished the job. "I have no method of communication, I'm afraid. We should...we should find the field scribes and comms."

  Danse could feel the haze of trauma dissipating the longer he spoke, the tactical compartmentalization that had served him so well taking over once more. There would be time later to mourn what he had lost. Right now, it was the Brotherhood's sworn duty to ensure that the Commonwealth remained safe and, more importantly, informed .

  "Come with me, Miss Wright." He ordered, using the advantage of his height to search for the elevated ground of their radio shelter.

  "It's Piper ."

  …

  Vega's boots kicked up a cloud of dust, her footsteps weary. Preston was silent alongside her, the young man clearly deep in thought. Backhand was still reeling from the holotape, Father's words playing over and over in her mind...

  I had hoped to gift this child to you as some sort of consolation for losing me all those years ago, but your actions have proven you unreasonable. If you are hearing this message, no doubt you have found this unit's corpse and stripped it clean.

  Did you think I had no idea you were working with the Brotherhood? The Railroad? You cannot be so naive, Mother. I am merely stunned that it took you so long to gather your forces.

  On the off chance that your bloodlust can be slaked before the total destruction of everything I have built, I would ask that you still take this...synth. This boy, rather, as you would no doubt insist on calling him, has been programmed to believe he is your son. Should he survive you and whatever rampant destruction you have planned, I ask that you raise him as your own. 

  You have no real reason to do so, of course. There would be no tangible benefit, and I know all too well of your callous disregard for life.

  Sleep easy tonight, knowing that you've rid the Commonwealth of its greatest hope for prosperity.

  Backhand cleared her throat. "Preston, do you-" She hesitated. "What if I'm not...what if I'm not cut out for this mom stuff? What if all I'm good for is military shit?" The woman asked plaintively. "I was willing to do anything for my son, back before the bombs dropped. But now...I mean, what the hell kind of life can I even offer to the...to Shaun?"

  "A life at all, I suppose. The freedom to choose." 

  Backhand closed her eyes, forcing a breath out. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I think so, anyway. You've fought so hard for folks you don't even know, General! And it isn't like you'd be doin' it alone." Preston reasoned with a smile. "If it seems a little too overwhelming, just remember: there at a moment's notice . We're with you, no matter what."

  "I was kinda' hoping I'd put you guys out of a job!" Vega tried to joke.

  "Nah, we've still got a lot of work to do. Commonwealth's a big place, General." Preston patted her shoulder, waving to the sentries on the Brotherhood retaining walls at the airport. Far overhead loomed Liberty Prime, all gangly steel limbs as its head slowly turned back and forth in a scanning motion.

  Vega began skimming the crowds of wounded from force of habit, her eyes stopping dead at the sight of a black leather coat.

  X6-88 . The courser looked dazed, a singular patch of reddened gauze gracing his forehead. His body was still wrapped protectively around the child, around Shaun , who seemed to be sound asleep. The synth kept snarling at anyone who got too close. Vega wondered who on earth had managed to dress his head. Had someone just tossed him a gauze pack and fled in terror?

  She received her answer a second later as Curie emerged from the crowd, the young woman sporting her usual nearly-spotless white coat to denote her medical ability. X6 would have known her by a different name, however.

  G5-19 . 

  Backhand's heart broke at the way that the courser was obviously struggling to contain himself, the general watching Curie swap out the soaked gauze for a fresh bandage. When Curie reached for Shaun though, X6 said something to her that made her tilt her head in confusion.

  "- know me? Monsieur Courser, I am afraid I do not have zee pleasure." She was saying as Vega and Preston drew within earshot.

  "You were...in the Institute, I...we knew each other." X6 replied in a fragmentary fashion.

  "Ah! I must apologize, Monsieur Courser. I am afraid zat zis body was wiped nearly clean when I acquired it. Zee original owner was in a catatonic state. Somezing about EMP grenades and raiders, if I recall." The former Nanny bot squinted at the courser, pursing her lips. "And yet, you are... strangely familiar! Ah, zis body is a marvel." She continued cheerily, producing two small, plastic-wrapped snack cakes from her doctor's coat. "One for you, and one for zee child when he wakes." 

  X6-88 accepted the prepackaged treats with a nod, spotting Elizabeth over Curie's shoulder. "General Vega, is it?" The courser asked, his voice weary.

  "How you holdin' up, X6?" Vega queried in turn, startled when the killing machine offered her a tight-lipped nod.

  "The wound is not too grievous, even with the limited amount of medical prowess it seems the surface has. She appears to believe I will survive."

  "Madame Vega, it is such a relief to see you in one piece!" Curie exclaimed warmly, the synth hauling her into a hug and planting a kiss on either cheek. "It would appear your mission was a success, yes?"

  "I'd say so." Preston answered for Vega, the lieutenant observing the courser with a fair amount of trepidation. "General, are you sure you...uh. Well, y'know."

  "Lieutenant Garvey," Preston flinched when X6 used his name, "If I intended to cause you harm, you would already be dead." 

  Remarkably , that attempt at reassurance did very little, and Vega smacked herself on the forehead as Preston went a touch gray. "You sure keep some interesting company, General." He commented, his voice cracking.

  "Listen, I said you'd be safe and I'm a woman of my word. But please don't give any of these Brotherhood weirdos an excuse to shoot you." Backhand requested of the courser. "If you want, I'll take over on babysitting duty and you can get the hell out of here. I know it probably feels like you're sitting in the middle of a hornet's nest."

  X6-88 hesitated, his eyes darting to Curie and then back to the general. "I will stay, ma'am." He answered her staunchly, looking weary all of a sudden.

  "Okay. But if you do want to leave, just have them walkie for me. Find basically anyone with a radio. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, I need that to be clear. You're free to go wherever you want, X6."

  "I…" The courser's brow furrowed and he merely nodded silently after a moment, readjusting his grip on the sleeping Shaun. 

  Vega knew she had so much to do, so much to continue planning, but she took a self-indulgent second to brush Shaun's hair back out of his eyes. Dark, dark brown, almost black, just like his father…

  Elizabeth smiled sadly, and then set off in the direction of the communications tent.

  …

  "No word from her yet, sir. Lieutenant Garvey told us of the success of the mission, but it is unclear if she is with him or not." 

  The field scribe's words burrowed into Danse's gut like a knife. Fear, anxiety, the unstoppable creeping sensation of realizing that he had been too late or not enough -

  The paladin shoved the emotions down, all too aware of Piper waiting at his elbow with baited breath. "The reports from the other squadrons then, Scribe."

  "Emergency relays began to activate at five minutes to meltdown, sir. Several synths were spotted in the outskirts of Diamond City and were quickly scooped up by the citizens of Goodneighbor, or Golf squadron, in conjunction with John D.'s forces." The young man replied, tugging one side of his headset off of his ears. "Foxtrot and Echo encountered the most resistance, as a platoon of coursers and gen one synths were sent to both the Castle and Bunker Hill. It seems that both locations held out well. Minimal casualties reported."

  "What's your take on this whole situation, bud? Would you consider this a victory?" Piper asked, leaning around Danse to speak with the scribe. "Enquiring minds want to know!"

  "I-I am not at liberty to pass judgement, civilian, b-but it seems that the operation has gone well!" The scribe stammered, darting his eyes at Danse as if fearful of the paladin's discipline.

  Danse snorted, a touch amused despite the distress that threatened to engulf him. Piper was far more formidable than a cursory glance would assume. It wasn't Danse that this young man needed to be concerned about.

  The doorway at the other end of the tent was flung open, sunset light pouring in with the influx of more bodies from the triage area. Danse didn't really pay any mind to it, more invested in hearing the rest of the field scribe's report. 

  That is, until a certain voice broke through the dull roar of radio static and muffled transmissions. "I need news of Delta squadron!" Vega barked, "particularly of Paladin Danse! Who has eyes on Danse?"

  The scribe across from the dumbfounded paladin looked up at him slack-jawed, then bolted to his feet. "G-General Vega, ma'am! The paladin-!"

  "Elizabeth." Danse breathed, his voice nearly inaudible as he straightened up from the table. 

  When her eyes met his, it was as if something broke inside him. Danse covered the ground between them in a heartbeat, gathering her into a fierce, armored embrace. " Logan! " Vega cried, her arms flinging open to cling to his sides. He almost dared to believe that she sounded relieved or delighted . "You're okay, you're okay, thank fuck ." She mumbled against his breastplate, clutching the lucky bandanna she had tied to his arm like she wasn't sure if he was real. "We did it, we did it, holy shit." 

  Vega appeared to be in a state of shock, finally lifting her head from Danse's chest when Piper hollered, "Blue!", the reporter hugging her from behind and sandwiching the general between herself and Danse. 

  Danse's heart ached as he watched Vega dissolve into tears, Piper gripping her tight and his own hold unwavering. Preston entered the tent as well, the younger man clapping Danse on the pauldron to congratulate him on his survival.

  We did it .

Part Twenty

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

Hey! I am really excited for seeing your blog grow and I wish you the best of luck!💛💛💛 I'm bad at requesting, so if you don't feel like doing this one - that's fine~ How would all companions (inc. X6, Preston & Codsworth) react to a Sole being a handywoman on Liziqi level and finding out she spent her childhood in a village after she casually explains to some settlers how to make booze from fruit or how to butcher and smoke brahmin?

i saw her channel and i was like :0 the whole time. i have no time or patience for that kinda stuff, haha. that girl got mad skills. ill make them react to the food she prepares, if it’s okay!

i’ll do this as regular companions and kept it short and simple!

anyways, i hope you enjoy! ❤️

-

he leaned on the wall, watching as sole grabbed a basket of mutfruit from under the table/dragged a brahmin corpse on a rug. he wondered why the people of sanctuary gathered around sole and was interested himself. he decided to observe from afar to avoid interrupting whatever she was doing, she seemed to have a passionate look on her face after all. he pondered on whether sole could cook or not, seeing that all the items near her were food related. his ears perked up, hearing her voice ring throughout the crowd, “okay guys! i’m gonna teach you some stuff i learned when i was a child back at my village. i’m sure this will be useful to you all and sanctuary itself so be sure to carefully look!”

sole grew up from a village? he had no knowledge of that for sure but made a mental note to ask her after her demonstration. sole looked at the settlers happily and demonstrated how to make wine from mutfruit/butcher and smoke brahmin meat. the crowd became invested in her displays, amazed sounds escaping their mouths as sole went through the process step by step in detail. it was beyond unique and something that many people don’t see often in the commonwealth; an art of the prewar times, truly.

Danse:

he would think soles skills were definitely astonishing, seeing that he’s never seen anyone do something like that before. danse would be incredibly impressed and would even jot down those notes mentally to maybe learn it himself one day. as much as he wanted to try and attempt to replicate her skills, he knew he would never be able to but on the other hand, he was way too awkward to ask sole to teach him. lost in his thoughts over soles amazing abilities, danse wouldn’t notice her striding up to him with a smile on her face. “what’s with the look, paladin?” he would jolt on surprise, a small blush spreading across his face as soles eyes traveled to lock with his. it would take him a few seconds to muster a reply. “uh- i apologize if i’ve offended you.” he cleared his throat, adjusting himself so he could stand straight, “it wasn’t my intentions. it’s just.. your skills are certainly impeccable soldier, i’m sure the brotherhood could use your abilities back at the prydwen. they seem to be proven useful.” he then look away elsewhere, hoping his voice didn’t falter in the process. “it would be much appreciated, if you don’t mind.” much to danses content, sole immediately agreed without a second thought. he would then bombard sole with questions about her life while living in a village.

Deacon:

he would be immensely amazed by soles skills and would definitely be gawking at her presentation. how she gained the skills or who she gained it from would be a mystery to him but that was the least of his worries. his priority was to ask sole to teach him how to do something as complicated as that. as sole began putting away her finished products, he walked towards her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. sole looked at him with a raised brow and rolled her eyes at the smirk present on his face. “what is it this time, deeks?” deacon would use his free hand to make over dramatic gestures as he replied, “you gotta teach me that some day, charmer. who knows, maybe one of these days we’ll open up a restaurant named-“ deacon blabbered on for minutes, making sole chuckle occasionally at his silliness. she turned to face him, resting her hand on her hip. “fine deeks. i’ll teach you on one condition.” he would let out a small, ‘hm?’ as sole continued. “i can name the restaurant if we open it one day-“ sole shushed him as he opened his mouth to retaliate, “- and no. we are not naming the restaurant any of those names that just came out of your mouth.” deacon would throw his arms in the air dramatically but send sole a small smile, “fine, fine, you win..! but you still gotta teach me.” he was totally gonna name their restaurant one day with or without her knowledge.

Maccready:

he’s a child about it. it’s clear that there’s a flabbergasted look in his eyes and mac lets himself become completely submerged in it. he was so excited to see new and foreign ways food could be executed, especially since he’s been living off sugar bombs, nuka cola, and cram his whole life. maccready knew from his core that he could not cook for the life of him and could only go as far as preparing a box of blanco mac and cheese at somewhat decent standards, so something like this easily drew him in. god, he wondered how hard sole worked at her village when she was younger. after all, he didn’t really do anything as a kid and didn’t teach himself many skills that would benefit him in the long run. soon enough, the sound of soles voice dragged maccready out of his daydream. she signaled him to come over to where she was at and grinned as he approached almost shyly. he’d try to act all maintained and calm but sole already saw the excitement he showed during her demonstration. “yeah? she grabbed a bag of already cooked and sliced brahmin meat from the box near the table and opened it. he would feel himself grow hungry at the smell of the smoked brahmin meat. sole popped a piece in her mouth and hummed contently, nudging the bag towards maccreadys direction. “it’s so good, you should try it!” hesitantly, but surely, maccready grabbed a piece and slightly bit it, only to find himself eating the whole thing within seconds. it was amazing! how did sole manage to keep their talent away from him for months?! with a full mouth, macready excitedly sputtered out words that sole couldn’t quite comprehend. she sent mac a confused look, and he blushed in response, rubbing the nape of his neck timidly. “sorry- uh, it was just really good.” sole would shove the bag at him gently, a small smirk playing on her face, “would you like more, mac?” silence filled their air for only a mere second- “yes, please.”

Hancock:

as the applause ended with the crowd, there was only one left that continued to clap loudly, attracting soles attention. she would wave at hancock who looked at her with an entertained and impressed expression on his face. “and just when i thought i knew everything about ya.” sole would giggle girlishly and walk up to hancock, wiping her stained hands with her jacket. “i’m full of surprises, hancock. you’re gonna have to dig harder if you want to know everything about me,” hancocks grin would grow wider as sole bantered on with a cheeky smile, “being over 200 years old makes me far more interesting than many people.” a laughter was shared between the two for a moment. “guess you’re right, sister. i’m guessing you hold a lot more secrets than i expect.” sole would fold her arms sassily and stare up at him with a sly look in her eyes, “you are absolutely correct, mayor hancock.” hancock would immediately detect the friskiness in her voice. “i have no choice but to earn it then, huh?” he said in a joking tone. sole would feel his arm wrap around her shoulder casually, “how’s about we go back to goodneighbor and take a sip of that wine you made? i want to know about your days at the village anyway. sounded interesting.” sole would return his friendly affection, draping on arm on the backside of his torso as she hummed. “that sounds great.”

Nick Valentine:

he was ecstatic to see that sole still attained some of their prewar skills, it was definitely a rarity nowadays in the commonwealth. it’s been a while since he’s tasted some authentic wine, the last time being with jenny, but even so, that was the old nick and not the one that existed right then and there. he was thrilled to learn more about his partner who often kept her life to herself - it was a nice change for once. nick himself has seen people work in villages back in his day, so he had an idea of what skills she could’ve picked up while living in one. sole caught him walking to her with a smile on his face and she decided to meet with him halfway. “what did you think, nick? i know my skills were probably a little rusty here and there.” nick shot sole a warm smile, noticing the small, shy flush on her cheeks. “rusty? i found it quite flawless,” sole felt her face redden more as nick continued, “for a 200 year old popsicle, you’ve done pretty good, kid. i bet no one could replicate what you just executed.” she chortled at his silly remark, feeling more confident in her own expertise. “i’m glad i was able to impress you. now let’s hope it’ll taste as good as it looks.” nicked grinned, perking up at her comment, “i don’t mind being the judge of that, if that’s what you’re implying.” she smiled softly; it was exactly what she had in mind.

Codsworth:

he already knew of soles upbringing and the impressive skill set she had. codsworth remembered almost everything she had told her husband about her times at the village and was always drawn into her interesting stories. despite that, she’d always use these skills during her times with nate, and codsworth often observed her from afar during prewar times. he’d remember the excitement in her eyes when she used to execute this hobby and had still caught the same passionate glint as she confidently demonstrated to the crowd. as the settlers departed with happy and content comments, codsworth made their way to them with a jovial tone in his voice. “it’s lovely to see that your skills are definitely top notch just like the old days, mum!” sole would grin at codsworth, a happy expression on her face. “thank you, codsworth! it means a lot coming from you.” codsworth would help sole clean up the aftermath of the presentation, rushing to do most of the work so she could rest, “anytime, mum!”

Preston:

he’d be almost speechless at soles talents, nothing more than a soft yet interested, ‘damn,’ escaping his mouth. though he knew sole was a hardworking, humble, and honest person, he was happy to learn that she did reside in a village at one point of her life. it could only mean that she had a vast amount of experience that many people nowadays aspire to have - farming, cooking in unique ways, etc. most people just knew how to use a gun and make money for a living during these hard times. seeing sole smoke a brahmin would definitely leave him awestruck, considering that he’s never seen anyone do that before. ”wow! that’s so cool, ms. sole! i hope to be like you someday.” sole shyly grinned at the child that beamed at her, opening her mouth to respond until prestons sounded throughout the crowd. “that’s the general for you. we couldn’t have found someone better.” sole chuckled nervously as everyone continued to throw strings of compliments at her. “yeah, for sure!” “we have the best leader in the commonwealth!” she would meet his gaze, embarrassed by all the attention she was receiving. preston would tip his hat as sole mouthed a timid, “thank you.” as the crowd cheered on. he would definitely have to try her smoked brahmin after her exhibition.

X6:

though a stoic expression would remain on his face, he would feel a sense of awe as sole calmly explained to the residents how to smoke brahmin meat. for sure, x6 has seen many displays of how to prepare food in the most exotic and unique ways in the institute but would be interested finding out that she had presented a new method of execution he hadn’t encountered during his lifetime. with his eyes fixated on soles hand movements and the materials on the table, he jotted down every action that she made with every second that ticked. his stillness and intimidating presence would creep everyone out and they would feel uncomfortable with x6 just blankly staring at whatever. regardless, the crowd seemed to enjoy the show despite the discomfort. after what seemed like eternity, sole finally concluded her demo and thanked the crowd for giving her their attention. the settlers applauded sole, giving her their final compliments and comments before dispersing. she smiled, proud of what she accomplished and decided to pack everything up before hitting the hay. “ma’am.” she jumped up, getting frightened by the sudden voice that rung behind her. looking over her shoulder slowly, she caught x6 staring at her with a blank expression. she glared at him. “next time, give me a warning, will ya? you almost gave me a heart attack.” x6 simply nodded before continuing on with his statement, “i believe your skills will be convenient to the institute. it’s almost remarkable to discover that you retain something from your prewar days.” soles eyes widened in surprise for a mere moment but collected herself, a small smile growing on her face. “thanks x6.” silence followed after, but x6s compliment was enough to tell her that he appreciated her talent.

[thevaultturtle]

I got one for you: Companions react to Sole getting so caught up in helping others they forget to take care of themselves and get proper sleep and it ends up biting them in the ass

Companions React to an Exhausted Sole Survivor Falling into Danger

Notes: First request on this blog! It’s also my first companion react post, so let me know what you think about it! 

Warnings: None. It’s just under a cut because it got a little long. 

Exhaustion wasn't something thatSole was completely unfamiliar with. They had faced it many times intheir pre-War life, especially after Shaun had been born, and becauseof that, they didn't think anything about facing it again.

Thatwas a mistake.

Inmost cases, exhaustion wouldn't have got you killed in a pre-Warworld, but in the post-apocalyptic nuclear Wasteland, it would getyou killed in almost every scenario. Sole learned that the hard way.

Afterlearning the truth about Shaun and the Institute, helping people wasone of the few things that kept Sole going in the new, unforgivingworld that they found themselves in, and they dedicated their everywaking moment to it. If they had to go without food or sleep to doso, so be it, so long as they helped everyone that needed it. Soledidn't necessarily consider themselves a hero, but they knew that theworld would never get better if people didn't help each other, andthey would give anything to fix the world so people could livepeacefully again.

Thiswas Sole's obsession, and although it was born from good intentions,it was still dangerous, not so much for others, but for Sole.

Ithad been days since Sole had properly slept, and as much as theytried to deny it, they were running on fumes. They were so dead seton making it to the next settlement to offer them help, that theydidn't even notice the feral Ghoul wandering out of a nearby ruinedbuilding, but it sure as hell noticed them, and before Sole knew it,they were being pushed to the ground, the feral's decaying handspoised to tear at their face.

Therewas nothing that Sole could do, and they closed their eyes, bracingfor their impending death and the eternal slumber that they wouldfall victim to, sure that nothing could save them, but then a bulletrang through the air. The feral fell dead, and Sole looked aroundthem, only to see their companion rushing over to them…

Cait

She will quickly take the feral's place, kneeling over Sole and yanking them up by the front of their shirt so they have to look her in the eyes while she yells at them.

She's pretty pissed, needless to say.

There aren't many people that Cait trusts and cares about in the world, and seeing one of those precious few nearly torn to shreds because they refused to take care of themselves will set off a righteous fury in her like nothing else could.

She's tempted to punch them for their negligence, but by some miracle, she restrains herself.

She will make them rest before setting out again, and she won't take any objections to that. Sole will sleep whether they want to or not, even if she has to indulge herself in that punch to make it happen.

Curie

"Oh! Why did you not say something?"

It's actually a bit surprising that she let Sole get to this point, because with all of her medical knowledge, Curie is no stranger to the signs of exhaustion.

Maybe Sole just hid their symptoms a little too well, but whatever the case may be, she'll be putting Sole on a bit of a lockdown for a while at the nearest bit of shelter that she can find.

She'll monitor them herself for that entire time, and she won't medically clear them for travel until she is 100% sure that something like this won't happen again.

She will also insist on giving Sole more frequent checkups for that same reason.

Danse

"I expected better from you, Soldier."

He's mostly just disappointed in Sole.

He expected them to take better care of themselves, especially while they had such an important mission (taking down the Institute) that they were so close to finishing.

He expected more from them as a member of the Brotherhood, and he hoped for more from them as a friend.

His disappointment mainly stems from his concern for their well-being, and he will put a halt to everything that they were doing until Sole rests.

He will also make them get a checkup from Cade when they return to the Prydwen, and he'll make sure that they don't budge until Cade clears them for travel again, because he refuses to let another comrade and friend die on his watch.

Deacon

He'll hide it well, but Deacon is actually really worried about Sole.

Before the feral incident, he tried to sneakily get Sole to take a break, complaining that he was tired and that he was the one who needed a break instead, but that obviously didn't work.

He was trying to spare their pride since he knew how important helping others was to them, but after the feral almost clawed their face off, the gloves will come off and he'll finally say something to them.

"Look buddy, you need a rest. You won't be able to help anyone as chewed up minced meat."

His tone will be completely serious, and that in and of itself is enough to make Sole rest for a bit.

He'll keep a close eye on them from then on out, and if Sole gets any worse, he'll bring them to Carrington, and he'd really like to avoid that, for several reasons.

Hancock

"And I thought I was tripping pretty hard."

He'll keep things jovial because he doesn't want to make Sole feel any worse than they already do, but he's undeniably worried about them.

"You need an upper, buddy?"

He won't actually give them chems, but he sure as hell will take some himself, and those chems will definitely be downers so he has an excuse to make Sole stop traveling for awhile.

The chems will conveniently last until he thinks that Sole has had enough rest, and he will repeat this performance as often as necessary until Sole starts taking care of themselves again.

MacCready

"Do you want to get ripped apart by ferals?!"

The situation hits him pretty hard at a deep level, for obvious reasons.

Mac feels like he can never truly repay Sole for what they did for Duncan, and in that split second before he took the feral out, he was afraid that he had truly and utterly failed the person who saved his son, in the exact same way that he failed Lucy.

It hit him hard, and it hurt.

He's relieved that he was able to save them in time, but he's pissed that the situation happened to begin with, so he'll berate Sole for a bit until he calms down.

He won't necessarily make Sole take a break, but he will take point on whatever it is that they're doing, regardless of any objections that Sole might have.

Nick Valentine

"Look, we can't have you sleepwalking your way through the Commonwealth."

His reaction is pretty calm, but that's not because he's any less concerned than any of the other companions.

He's worried about Sole, but he probably saw this coming a mile away.

He has strong memories of human Nick working himself to a similar point of exhaustion, so it wasn't hard for him to see this coming, and he was ready for it because of that.

He also knows how stubborn Sole can be when it comes to helping others, so he figured they'd need to learn the hard way why they had to keep taking care of themselves.

Needless to say, with his own personal lecture to go along with this hard-learned lesson, Sole will gladly take a rest before they move out again.

Old Longfellow

"You're not gonna survive out here for long if you don't rest some time, but if you want to keep goin’, I won't argue with you."

He also knows that Sole will have to learn the hard way, so he pushes them to keep going.

He thinks that this is the best time for them to learn this lesson, too, since they're already shaken up from the feral, and he also knows that they'll still be safe because he's watching their back.

He'll keep pushing them until they finally break down and can't keep going any longer.

He'll make them realize just how truly miserable they feel, and just how open they left themselves because their senses were dulled by their exhaustion, pointing out that if it hadn't been for him, the same thing would have happened again numerous times.

He'll be straight to the point with all of this, and it'll be more than enough to make Sole realize that he's right, and that they need to rest to help people to the best of their abilities.

Piper

"Take it easy, Blue! I know you're itching to help people, but you kind of have to stick around and, you know, stay alive to do that!"

She's a little exasperated that Sole put such little thought to their own wellbeing.

Like, it utterly baffles her that someone who focuses so much on every little problem that everyone else has could be so oblivious to their own ailments.

She'll tell them that, too, in a long, frustrated rant that Sole is bound to fall asleep during, and even if they don't, she'll still rant long enough that they'll have had plenty of time to unwind a little.

It's certainly not a conventional method of getting Sole to take a break, but it's undeniably effective.

Porter Gage

"Why the hell are you lookin' so weak, boss?!"

He's pretty disappointed and pissed that Sole let themselves get into such a poor position.

Weakness has a very high price in the Wasteland, especially when you're running around with raiders, and Gage would rather Sole not have to pay that price, not just for their sake, but also because he would probably have to share in that expense, as well.

He knows that he can't let something like this happen again and that Sole needs to shape up, so he'll tell them that, and he won't leave any room for argument.

He will also tell Sole that they need to stop wasting their time on helping a bunch of weak nobodies, but he knows that's a bit of a long shot. He can still try, though.

Preston Garvey

"General! Are you alright?"

Just pure concern right here.

Preston knows what Sole is going through because he's been through it himself.

He understands that unbrittled need to help others because that same need haunts him every day.

He also knows what that need can lead to.

His failure at Quincy broke him, and he almost didn't make it through that. He doesn't want Sole to go through the same thing, especially when the Commonwealth depends on them so much.

He'll practically beg them to rest, telling them that they'd never forgive themselves if they failed to help someone because they neglected to take care of themselves, and that is bound to strike an emotional chord with Sole, especially once Preston makes the connection to Quincy and his own struggles.

X6-88

"Unacceptable. We're leaving. Now."

X6 thinks that helping Wastelanders is a waste of time anyway, so he will have no issue relaying Sole back to the Institute at the first sign that there's something wrong with them.

Looking out for Sole is his priority, his mission, and he won't fail in that mission, no matter how much Sole argues against it.

Strong

"Hmph. Human weak. Never find Milk of Human Kindness like this."

Strong is on his own mission and he won't let a little bit of exhaustion get in the way of that.

If Sole can't keep going to do what they need to do and to help him with that mission, then he'll just carry them so they have to help him anyway.

Sole might as well just catch some sleep while he does that.

Ada & Codsworth

Ada: "Sir/Ma'am! I cannot advise that you go any further."

Codsworth: "Oh, Sir/Mum, I do wish that you would get some rest! I'm worried that you won't make it home at this rate!"

These two have pretty similar reactions, in that they will voice their concerns, but they won't actually do much to stop Sole if they want to keep going since they both have an inherent desire to serve and follow orders. 

However, with how often they voice this concern (especially Codsworth), Sole will probably rest just to get them to stop. 

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Faction-related companions and leaders react to Sole who is aware of multiple verses and currently stands with their faction describing how they destroyed it in some of previous iterations

This one was really fun to write! I think I’ve gotten all the endings covered (I’m like 99.9% sure there is no “Minutemen Destroyed” ending). I would have included the Far Harbor and Nuka World endings but tbh I have yet to complete them. Please enjoy! 😊 

(Oh, and I had to sneak one of my favorite fan theories in there. Surprise! Easter egg! I’m sure you’ll find it.)

FO4 Factions React: Sole Telling Them About Their Opposing Ending

The Institute:

“I built a reflector platform and managed to infiltrate Institute once I’d been banished,” Sole began, “I tapped into one of your terminals and stole all your data. I shared this information with the opposition and we used this information to…launch an attack.”

“Launched an attack how?” Father asked, “You’re going to have to elaborate.”

Sole hesitated.

“It’s okay, [sir/ma’am],” X6 reassured, “We’re not upset. We need this information to improve our security protocol. You’re doing the Institute a favor by sharing your experience.”

“It was an attack from within. We used your terminal, Shaun, to override a lock- down that was initiated. We then used the nuclear reactor to blow the place up.”

Father frowned. “And what happened to the synths, the scientists, the coursers…me?”

“All dead.”

“That’s a damn shame,” X6 lamented.

“Well. We’re certainly going to need to develop an improved computer defense network. I’ll see if Doctor Li and Doctor Filmore can collaborate to make the ultimate firewall.”

“Please, Just don’t get Dr. Holdren involved,” X6 plead, “He doesn’t have a good track record.”

“Fair enough. We will get to work immediately.”

The Railroad:

Desdemona, Glory, Tom, and Deacon watched in concern and amusement as Sole frantically waved their arms around, babbling about how he busted into HQ with the Brotherhood and gunned everyone down.

“And then we breached the door of the church and it was an absolute bloodbath,” Sole rambled, “Railroad agents everywhere. In the pews, in the gallows, on the staircase. But the Brotherhood soldiers just kept coming!”

“A likely narrative,” Desdemona commented, “Certainly more believable than anything Deacon could come up with.”

“Hey!”

“But it gets worse.”

“How can it get worse than the Brotherhood breaking into the church and massacring everyone?” Glory asked.

“Yeah, that’s pretty whack,” Tom responded.

“Because then I…I went down to HQ and me and the Brotherhood we…we…”

“Uh oh,” Deacon intervened, “We were all turned into punching bags, right?”

“More like ballistic targets.”

“Ouch. So we all died, I’m assuming?”

“Yes,” Sole explained, “And so does Danse.”

Deacon scoffed, “Did Glory put a million holes through his power armor?”

“No. He’s actually a synth. Maxson ordered me to kill him,” Sole started, “I would have never guessed he, of all people, was a synth.”

The Railroad members all shot each other nervous glances before Glory decided to quickly end the conversation.

“Take a breath, friend,” Glory soothed, “It was probably just a dream. The important thing is that you’re with us, so none of this is gonna happen.”

The Brotherhood

Sole had requested to have a meeting at the Cambridge Police station to discuss a strange vision they had had.

“And then I come in and plant explosive devices on the walls of the Prydwen,” Sole explained in shame, “I killed so many soldiers. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you were a filthy scumbag,” Rhys muttered, “I knew I should’ve shot you on the spot on the day we met.”

“Rhys,” Danse growled.

Maxson scratched his chin, “How can we be sure that the Institute didn’t plant these ideas in your head? This certainly seems suspect.”

“Oh, stop it! Both of you! None of this actually happened,” Haylen defended. She looked at Sole sympathetically, “We appreciate your honesty.”

“Yes. Thank you, soldier,” Danse stated, “But did the squires make it out alright?”

Sole shook their head and the Paladin furrowed his brows, before looking at Maxson.

“This is why we shouldn’t have children aboard the Prydwen Arthur.”

“None of this actually happened, Danse,” Maxson sharply reminded, “This meeting is over. All of you are dismissed.”

[danseinthefallout]

the art of danse - one

a paladin danse fanfiction

story warning; this story contains strong language, adult themes (such as violence, smut/NSFW themes, drug use, and other harsh themes) and canon and un canon language and story plots of Fallout 4 and Fallout 3.

summary; yea, the bombs may have fallen, but art and love have not. and of course, people still tell white lies

~~

word count; 3,6k

chapter one - idiots

Stella wondered how she stumbled in a police station, fighting feral ghouls with a man who battle cried. One minute she was looking for her friends, Lucas and Joanna and the next was involved in military business. She knew that they needed help, even one man in power armor couldn’t take all those ferals at once. She saw one of his men down, lazily shooting at them as a woman was tending to him. She was hoping to ask if they have seen her idiot friends and she would be on her way back to Endcliff in hopes they would be there. 

Stella was caught off guard by looking at the women tending to the man as he gave up as a feral flung at her, knocking her to the ground. This has happened more times then she’d like to admit. She reached for her gun as she used the back of it to bash in the skull of the feral ghoul. “Filthy fucker!” She yelled as she jumped back up and shot the feral in the head, just to make sure. The man in the power armor was fighting three more ferals, the number of them decreases. He seemed to have a hard time as one of them attacked his arm. Stella was a master at headshots and with three bullets and a steady eye killed each and every one of them. Stella looked down the street to see if any more were coming, but it was clear, thankfully. 

Stella was unsure if she should stay around, after all, she could tell this was the Brotherhood of Steel territory. She only knew that from the orange outfits and the symbols that were around the police station. A while ago she bumped into a wounding scribe by the name of Danny. The man in the power armor came up to Stella as she held her gun close to her chest. Stella looked at the man’s face and couldn’t help notice how handsome he was. Her face grew red but hoped he didn’t notice due to the blood that was splattered on her skin. “We appreciate the assistance, civilian. But what’s your business here?” The man asked, his voice deep and more calming then his battle cry. Stella raised an eyebrow, remembering the idiots she called family. She let out a smirk, hoping that they didn’t get kidnapped by raiders… again.

“Looking for two idiots. Who are you?” Stella asked nodding her head at the man. Stella put her gun back in her hoser as she crossed her arms. 

“I’m Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. If I appear suspicious, it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire. If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side,” The paladin spoke. Stella could use this to her advantage.

“Will do, but I need your help in return,” Stella spoke. “You know those idiots I referred too? Their the closest thing to family I got. It’s like them to trail off and get kidnapped by raiders or hideout for 2 days surrounded by feral ghouls. This time they promised me they would stay close and well, no one other than me is here. We’re from Endcliff, so making our way to the middle of the Commonwealth is a mission. Luckily, I got a signal from one of my teammates and it led me to Cambridge. Any help would mean a lot before I make way back home to see them there or not,” Stella sighed, frustrated at Lucas and Joanna. She hated traveling back home alone.

“Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys, Haylen will help decode the signal for you and track down where your team is, but we need your help,” The paladin spoke as Stella put a hand on her hip, listing.

“What do you need me to help with?” Stella asked

“We’re on recon duty, but I’m down a man and our supplies are running low. I’ve been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal’s too weak to reach them,” Stella could see the worry in the paladin’s eyes and couldn’t help but feel bad for him and his team. The women that were tending to the man, now known as Scribe Halen turned to Stella and Danse, butting in.

“Sir, if I may?” Haylen began.

“Proceed Haylen,” Danse instructed, Stella, raised her brow.

“I’ve modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but I’m afraid it’s not enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal,” Haylen informed Paladin Danse and Stella.

“We need a deep range transmitter, our target is ArcJet Systems. We secure the area, get the transmitter and bring it back here. Will you be willing to help us get it?” Danse asked.

“I said yes, didn’t I? Let’s get you a new transmitter,” Stella smiled.

“Sounds like a plan, stay behind me,” 

***

Fucking synths! Stella had to fight first-gen synths just to get that stupid transmitter. Almost died twice, but with a little will, she got that transmitter. Haylen was decoding the signal she got on her Pip-Boy to see where Lucas and Joanna where. Danse and Stella were making their way back to the police station, Danse was explaining some stuff on their way there and back, but Stella kind of blacked out on the conversation, really focusing on her friends. She did look at him a lot, she hasn’t found a man that good looking in a while. Stella noticed how he spoke and how serious he was. She’d hope that she could travel with him again, but she knew after this, she has to find her friends and go back to Endcliff.

As they walked down the road back to the station, Paladin Danse broke the silence and looked at the women who held her gun tightly. “You mentioned you’re from Endcliff, why are you way out here?” Danse asked, breaking his serious military character. Stella thought for a moment and looked up at the man in armor.

“We’re on a supply run as well as a manhunt. A raider gang came though Endcliff a few weeks ago, stole some important technology from us, killed 3 of our people, and injured 6. That never happened to us before. Luckily, me and my friend Luna killed them, but their leader left with the tech piece we need most. We’re hoping to find that bastard and get that back,” Stella was vague on the subject but specific enough because she felt like she could trust Danse.

“I’m sorry to hear that citizen. I hope you track down and kill that scum,” Danse said with compassion.

“Name is Stella Kennedy by the way. I was a vault dweller for most of my childhood. Vault 101. I was 12 when I escape after a kid left to find their father. I guess I kinda wander off, found some friends at Little Lamplight and spent a year there. Became friends with Mayor… fuck was it MacKenny? Cready? Anyways...” Stella trailed off. “Shit… that must have been 10 years since that bullshit happened,” Stella smirked to herself.

“Vault 101 and Little Lamplight was in the Capital Wasteland, right?” Danse asked with suspicion.

“Yes, sir. I spent most of my days wandering around until I was 15 I made my way to the Commonwealth where I meet Lucas and Joanna,” Stella smiled. 

“I grew up in the Capital Wasteland as well,” Danse smiled but also remembering everything that happened. 

“No shit soldier, where from?” Stella asked

“Rivet City,” Danse simply respond

“I’ve only been there a few times, I bought some junk there to build my first gun and only went there to get supplies when I was leaving for the Commonwealth,” 

 Danse could see the police station getting closer and closer. The two went inside as Stella gave the transmitter to Danse. Haylen walked over at the two.

“The signal is coming from Lexington, from the Super Duper Mart there. Hopefully whoever you’re looking for is there,” Haylen smiled.

“Thank you so much. Since I help you and you helped me, I think I won’t bother you and your team. Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Stella smiled.

“Wait, before you go, I have something for you,” Danse said

“No need to give me anything,” Stella said softly. Danse rolled his eyes and handed her a laser rifle. It was beautiful, to say the least.

“No need, as a soldier we always pay our debts. I modded it myself, it’s called Righoues Authority,” Danse smiled as Stella smiled back, her heart grew.

“Thank you Paladin Danse. I’ll return the favor, I promise. Say, if you’re ever near Endcliff, you should visit sometime. Benji will question you, but tell him I sent you. Where can I find you and your team after this?” Stella asked, taking the gun from Danse.

“Rhys and Haylen will stay put, I’ll be going back to the Prydwen. If you ever need me, come back here and we’ll get a vertibird to fly you there,” Danse said “If you ever want to become a soldier yourself, we’ll talk and I’ll be your sponsor,”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I’m soldier material. However, you’ll probably see me again,” Stella declined the offer.

“Ad victoriam,” Paladin Danse spoke. Stella knew what all that meet when she spent some time with Danny, smile smiled

“She doesn’t know what that means, why waste your breath,” Rhys scoffed

“To victory. Ad victoriam, to you Paladin. Thank you for everything,” And there Stella made her way to Lexington, with her head filled with Paladin Danse

***

Lexington was always a raider shit hole. It was sad that only raiders, ferals and even super mutants littered the place. Stella knew the ends and outs of the place, but always had to tiptoe just incase a landmine was placed and every raider and their dead mothers could hear it.

She scouted out the Super Duper Mart and saw some roaming ferals liter the place, but from the looks of it, most were dead. Probably from Joanna and Lucas. She could hear yelling from a raider in the back of the store. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m going to kill you both and keep it. Then I’ll find your friend who killed my gang.” Stella’s jaw dropped. It was him. She felt her heart beating out of her chest as she crouched down. 

Although she didn’t know the three people that his gang killed all that well, she knew that justice had to survive for their families. She turned on the dim lights on her Pip-Boy as she made her way across the market, being careful to not make any noise. Last time she was here, ferals littered the store. 

She saw the greasy raider towering Joanna. Only Joanna. She was tied up in a chair. It made Stella sick to her stomach. But she started to wonder where Lucas was and her mind started to race. 

Stella made a plan, point, and shoot. She aimed her rifle at the raiders’ head, making a perfect headshot. When she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Fuck! She thought she brought enough bullets for this mission, but she used the rest of her bullets on synths and ghouls. Ha, funny…

Stella saw as the raider integrated Joanna, but she couldn’t just walk in there, discuss the weather. She knew these sacks of shits, they’ll just kill Joanna and then her. Stella somehow forgot the gift the Paladin gave her and reached for it. She never actually used a laser rife before, so she was kind of excited to kill that scum bag with it. She put her rifle over her shoulder, took out the rifle and aimed. “Hey fuck face!” She screamed as the raider turned around and struggled to get his gun before Stella pulled the trigger a few times and blowing his leg off. Holy fuck, that Paladin is a killing machine if he made this.

The raider screamed in pain unable to do anything. “You fucking bitch!” He screamed, trying to crawl to Stella who rushed over to Joanna and untied the rope. Joanna went to a steamer trunk to retrieve her gun that Stella gave her on Christmas years ago and the piece that the raider stole from Endcliff

“Should we let him out of his misery?” Joanna asked as they fleed to the front door. Stella laughed, hearing the pain that the raider was in, desperate to escape.

“Never, he needs to feel pain for the people he killed,” Stella said as the left the market. “What happened to Lucas?” Stella asked with worry. Joanna held her gun.

“He went out looking for help, I think we went to that police station to ask for help, some Brotherhood of Steel members are held up there, heard it on my tracker when I made that distress call, hoping someone would help,” Joanna explained.

“Perfect, I was just there. Helped this really cute Paladin and his team was stranded. They said we can come back whenever I hope that’s true,” Stella doubted.

“Okay, you lead the way before ferals attack,” Joanna nodded. “Hey what’s up with you and the Brotherhood of Steel? Didn’t you hook up with a scribe back in the Capital Wasteland?” Joanna laughed making Stella blush.

“I was 15, he was 17, we dated, then we fucked, it just so happened that I was held up with some Brotherhood soldiers and he was one of them. We went over this!” Stella said, clearly embarrassed.

“What about Scribe Danny?” Joanna teased.

“We’re just friends,” Stella stated.

“That’s not what my eyes would tell me,” Joanna laughed as the walked down the broken road to the police station. Stella shoved Joanna, annoyed, but a small smirk formed her lips. “I’m so happy you figured out my signal. I was so scared and I never really felt that fear before. All I could think about when he was yelling at me was you and Lucas. I had hope, of course, but I started to expect my death. I only felt that way once before and that one time was the accident. I learned to accept my new life as a ghoul fast, that was before of you guys… I just couldn’t imagine a life without you two… or your life without me. Shit, sorry if that was deep,” Joanna laughed as Stella gave her a side hug.

“I’d get you if you ended up in the Institute or the Capital Wasteland. You’re my family, just like Lucas is,” Stella stated with full truth to her statement.

“I love you, Stella,” Joanna smiled as she stopped in her tracks, giving Stella the biggest hug.

“I love you more, Joanna. Thank you for everything these past seven years,” Stella let go and looked at Joanna, grabbing her shoulders. “Just remember you’re still Joanna. You’re not just a ghoul or a freak like those assholes in the Brotherhood think or the folks in Diamond City,” Stella preached as Joanna smiled and rolled her eyes. Joanna pushed her arms away and did the same thing to Stella.

“And goes to you, you’re more than a prototype, you’re the best goddamn gun modder in all the Commonwealth and you let me fuck up your hair when I can’t with mine,” Joanna laughed as she pulled on one of Stella’s dyed braids.

“Hey, I really like the split color look,” Stella shook her hair a little. “Also, don’t let the Brotherhood know I’m… whatever the fuck I am and I’ll tell them to suck my dick if they give you a hard time,” Stella smiled.

“If you think it’s a good idea…” Joanna sarcastically commented. “But I’ll probably just wear my gas mask when we get there,”

Approaching the police station, the two girls casually made way towards the door. Joanna put on a gas mask that she looted off a raider, she knew she couldn’t walk in and have the soldier happy to see her. That did hurt Stella to her core. She hated the new Brotherhood to be quite frank. The Brotherhood was never like that years ago. One of the soldiers gave her a weird look, not expecting to see the mysteries girl so soon.

“Is Paladin Danse still here?” She asked one of the Knights.

“Yes, civilian, you may enter,” The Knight stated. Stella entered the police station to see Scribe Haylen working on the transmitter and Knight Rhys planning something out on the table. Stella went up to Haylen and cleared her throat. Haylan looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Stella! You’re back sooner then I expected! And I’m assuming this is…” Haylen paused thinking of Joanna’s name

“Haylen this is Joanna and Joanna this is Haylen… I have a question,” Stella got to the point and leaned in.

“What would that be?” Haylen smiled.

“Has a dude by the name of Lucas, about yay high, blonde hair. Joanna told me that he was coming here for help,” Haylen put down her stuff and stood up straight.

“Yes, Paladin Danse went with him to look. I’ll call him telling them to abort their mission and come back to the police station. The two just left,” Haylen spoke as she went to the radio next to her. “Paladin Danse, come in Paladin Danse, head back to the police station, Joanna and Stella are here for Lucas, come in Paladin Danse,” Haylen spoke, hoping that he’d come in the other side. She waited a few seconds before a signal started to come in.

“This is Paladin Danse, aborting mission now,” 

“Now we just wait,” Haylen smiled.

“Thank you so much Haylen seriously. I wouldn’t know where to look for Joanna if it wasn’t for you,” Stella smiled.

“Why does your friend wear a gas mask?” Rhys burst out, causing everyone’s head to turn to him.

“Rhys, you can’t just ask why someone wears something?” Haylen said, annoyed.

“Yea I can… So, why is that? Is there something you’re hiding?” Rhys smirked. Stella rolled her eyes and although you couldn’t see it, so was Joanna

“Hey asshole, why do you care?” Joanna blurted out. That caused Rhys to stand up, pissed off.

“You’re speaking to a Brotherhood Knight, civilian. I subject you don’t speak to me like that, or there will be a problem; so I’ll as you again, what are you hiding… freak?” Rhys said slowly as he approached Joanna until he was close to her face. Stella felt herself tense up because she knew how Joanna can get when some asshole threatens her. Stella grabbed Joanna’s shoulders.

“How about we just wait for Danse and Lucas to get here, please,” Stella stated.

“Please, Rhys can you just let this go. Danse will have your head if he sees you acting like this. I’m so sorry you two,” Haylen pleed.

“Fine, but I will figure it out, I always do,” Rhys said as he walked away.

“He’s such an ass! I’m so sorry,” Haylen was so embarrassed, her face was red like a tato. 

“It’s fine, I’m use to that. I’m kinda burned up, don’t like showing my face a lot,” Joanna half lied.

“No need to explain. I don’t mind… Danse should be here any minute now,” Haylen stated as she started to finish up fixing the transmitter.

“Hey, thanks again, we’ll be outside and we’ll fight any more ferals that come this way,” Stella stated as she grabbed Joanna’s hand and went out the door. She didn’t want any gunfire especially when Joanna is on edge.

Stella turned to Joanna. “What the fuck was that Anna? I mean what the fuck for both of you… Please try not to get yourself killed AGAIN. We’re almost done, we got the piece and we just need Lucas and then we’re home free. Please… and also don’t say shit to this Paladin, at least don’t call him an asshole, he could be useful,” Stella begged as she hugged her rifle to her chest, looking up and down the road to check for ferals, the Paladin or the idiot she called Lucas.

“You just don’t want me to blow your chances to blow the Paladin. I bet he’s not that hot,” Joanna laughed.

“Ah! Shut up! I don’t have a thing for soldiers in the Brotherhood. It was a two-time thing, stop teasing me,” Stella was clearly annoyed, but Joanna loved it. Stella rolled her eyes as she looked down the street to see the Paladin in his power armor and Lucas. “Lucas!” Stella shouted as Joanna saw him and perked up. The two girls ran to Lucas and gave him the biggest hug as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. 

“What the actual fuck dude! I almost shit myself thinking you died,” Joanna shouted as she let go and looked at the Paladin. Stella was right. He was as sexy as fuck. “And this must be your knight and shining armor ready to take you away and fuck you, aye,” Joanna laughed.

“That is not appropriate, civilian,” Danse said with the most seriousness. Stella slapped her face.

“I’m so sorry Paladin. Thank you for everything. I will repay you… and before Joanna says anything, nothing sexual,” Stella said as she looked at Joanna who was doing that thing with her hands to indicate a penis and a vagina. You know that hand signal. Stella flipped her off. “Anyways, we should head back to Endcliff before people get a search team for us. Make sure to visit if you’re ever in the area. Goodbye,”  Stella smiled.

“Anytime, soldier. You have a character full of friends. I’ll make sure to use that opportunity,” Paladin Danse cracked a smile. “Ad victorim, Stella”

“Ad victorim, Paladin,”

Authors Note; I’ve been really into writing this story and I have already written 2 more chapters that I’ll post sooner than later! Thank you for reading and I will try to quench all of your Danse thrist and needs.