the-purple-martin

[the-purple-martin]

WIP Whenever

Danse had been out on perimeter guard when Jackie arrived and she didn’t want to interfere, so she had let him be. Told Shaw not to bother informing him because she knew it would distract him. So she waited. Busied herself with menial tasks and walked the ramparts as the sun lazily sank beneath the horizon to observe the command operations in the courtyard below. The Castle guard and Minuteman army, her army, had grown significantly in her absence. The once scant grounds now swelled with soldiers milling about. And while she supposed the Brotherhood was hers as well, it never really felt like it belonged to her, not really anyway.

The Brotherhood had provided a means to an end. Had given her stability when there was none to be found within the chaos of the Wasteland, and after everything, they had managed to mend her aching heart. There was still work to be done but Cade had somehow convinced her that her insanity was the product of the trauma she had endured and she was not, in fact, crazy. That perhaps she was deserving of the title and rank that had been thrust upon her and for that, the Brotherhood would always hold a special place in heart. But coming back to the Castle and seeing the Minutemen and the reality of all the work she had put in from afar, it felt like coming home.

For that very reason, she remained up there, watching and waiting, feeling so damn proud, until the sky turned dark and the milling slowed with the impending shift change. A sign that Danse would be back soon so she wandered downstairs and inside to eat and wrap up unfinished business before finding her way to his quarters. A small stone-walled room crammed in the officers hall of the Castle dormitory. It lacked luxury, favoring the simplistic design of bare walls marked only by the Minuteman flag pinned above an oversized bed next to a desk all shoved within the small space. She stared at the flag, a smile growing on her lips and warmth blooming in her chest because even if he hadn’t put it up himself, he hadn’t torn it down either. The implications of which weren’t lost on her that perhaps he had done some mending of his own.

“Jackie…?”

The deep resonance of Danse’s voice startled her out of her rumination and she quickly pivoted, snapping around to see him standing wide-eyed in the threshold of his quarters.

She had expected his reaction, prepared for it, but she wasn’t prepared for her own reaction at the sight of him. The pounding of her pulse and the giddy excitement that had her trembling and feeling lightheaded as she stepped toward him.

It had been too long, but perhaps she had needed the distance. Needed time to sort out her own mangled thoughts before she could really and truly appreciate him, appreciate how their shared experience only made them stronger together rather than just making her the weak link. She needed time for herself, separation to understand that she was a victim and that what had happened, it wasn’t her fault. That it was ok to grieve and let it go, to move on with her life because she was worth it. She was worthy of kindness and respect, of happiness and love, not only to love herself but to be loved.

She approached, grinning like an idiot because damn he looked good and she hadn’t realized how much she missed him.

“Danse,” she breathed. His name sounded far more desperate than she intended because if she was being honest, she was desperate. Desperate to throw her arms around him and squeeze him harder than she had any right to. Somehow, though, she managed to restrain herself from bombarding him before he even managed to make it into his room and stopped in front of him, just out of arm's reach.

“What...what are you doing here?” he stuttered and awkwardly stared. “I mean, I saw the air transport come in, but… You weren’t due back for another week.”

“I couldn't wait.”

Weeks of sleepless nights had passed in anticipation of this moment. Nights spent tossing and turning and yearning to put her arms around him. To kiss him and hold him and to finally tell him the things she truly felt for him.

He balked a moment longer, blinking as if attempting to rid himself of what she was sure he perceived as a hallucination. Then, as if life had been breathed back into him, he swiftly shut the door and closed the distance between them in a single stride. He pulled her into his arms with such fervor that it stole the breath right from her lungs. 

Of course they had talked, a near constant radio chatter of emotions, shared trauma, and healing. And the letters he had written to her... The most disgustingly sappy love letters that she had no right being so flustered over, but she was and for all the right reasons.

Nothing compared to this, though. To the feeling of being entangled in his solid warmth and the comfort of his heartbeat as he held her. Held her so close that she swore she would be burned alive by the heat fluttering in her belly.

[the-purple-martin]

The Sacrifices We Make

Read on Archive of Our Own

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: The Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Guilt, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Heavy Angst, Abuse, Mental Health Issues

Chapter 3 - The Road to Righteousness

“Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine” -Mess is Mine, Vance Joy-

“I’ll see you on the other side…”

BANG!

Darkness exploded around her and Jackie shot up from her bedroll.

“Danse?!” She cried, feverishly groping for her rifle or her Pip-Boy, anything to help fend off whatever had jolted her awake.

“Soldier?”  It came out forceful and frantic as Danse clanked through the room, “What is it? What’s the matter?” 

“I-I don’t know… I can’t breathe!”  Jackie panted, her pounding heart threatening to strangle her. “Something’s wrong!” 

Unable to control her racing thoughts, Jackie trembled and clung to her bedroll. She was convinced she’d perish in a fit of hysteria or at the very least, die of embarrassment. In an attempt to conceal her shameful state and regain some semblance of control, she pressed her face into her hands,

“You’re alright.”  

She nearly leapt out of her skin at Danse’s hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear. So consumed by her irrational fear, she hadn’t even heard him exit his power armor. It stood looming at the edge of the room and Danse… Danse was so near that Jackie was suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions she’d been trying so hard to bury since leaving the vault. All the pain and heartache, her insurmountable grief, leaked from the little box she’d haphazardly stuffed them away in. 

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[the-purple-martin]

“Jax.”

Those eyes. She knew those warm, dark eyes.

“I am nothing without you.”

The wasteland below was no more than a radioactive cesspool. But the full moon, strung high above the moor of the warring sea, casting soft, gray light upon the peaks and valleys of the waves, was just as beautiful as before.

And the stars…

Had there always been so many? They filled the night sky from east to west, north to south, the darkness few and far between them. Tiny, glittering pin pricks that unlocked the secrets of the past. They painted the black sky with myth and folklore, legends of times long since passed.

“Don’t be afraid.” 

That face. She’d seen it before, haunting her dreams. 

And she wondered what it would be like to fall. Would the cosmos catch her or would she fall right on through? Just another pin prick, forgotten amongst the stars, lost in the sands of time.

The barrel of her gun pressed against her skull, “Together?”

Her free hand reached out to tether her to that face she knew all too well.

“Together.”

I love you.

“Jacqueline…”

So much.

[the-purple-martin]

The Sacrifices We Make

Read on Archive of Our Own

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: The Creator Chose Not to Use Archieve Warnings Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Guilt, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Heavy Angst, Abuse, Mental Health Issues

Chapter 2

“You’ve been the only thing that’s right In all I’ve done. And I can barely look at you” -Run, Snow Patrol-

The bunker was cold and damp with an almost mist that saturated the room. It clung, suspended in the air, and collected on her skin like dew in the morning’s first light. Slick with condensation, the walls wept from the tragedy that had transpired here. Bleak, dull grays blurred together with the cool stone and concrete that framed this dungeon within the ground.

Buried beneath the broken earth, this pit contained a man, reduced to rubble because a single phrase told him he no longer held the right to life.  Forced him to believe he was less than human, brought into this world an object—a machine.

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[the-purple-martin]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor Characters: Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse (Fallout), Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen (Fallout) Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Heavy Angst Series: Part 3 of Beauty from Pain

Summary:

In the wake of the events at Listening Post Bravo, Sole Survivor Jacqueline struggles with the consequences of her choices, while Danse is prepared to let the Commonwealth burn on his path to seek vengeance for not only himself, but for the woman he has devoted his life to. Except the road righteousness isn't what it seems. Will the bonds of love and friendship be enough to save them both?

“Are you angry?”

In the aftermath of her confession, Jackie couldn’t bear to look at him. Twisting and churning, her gut was in knots; this place held enough heartache, but she couldn’t keep this from him. 

“I don’t know,” Danse admitted, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling.  Even from her peripherals, she could see the pensive expression that hijacked his features. 

Since Jackie had stepped into this place, condemned to be his personal prison, Danse hadn’t made eye contact. He’d barely acknowledged her presence; staring at nothing, staring through her, until she slunked over and slid down the concrete wall to nestle beside him. Jackie thought he'd been making progress, healing even, but it seemed he hadn’t fared well in her absence. It broke her heart when she had returned, to see Danse’s decline since her previous visit—he sat slouched on the floor, hiding in the dark, with his head in his hands. 

Even though Jackie had managed to keep Danse alive, the days immediately following his execution had been wrought with endless silence and meaningless existence. And then one night, Jackie awoke to the sound of muffled sobbing. Across the room, Danse sat on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. Even through the darkness, Jackie could see the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders, hear his stuttering breath as he attempted to smother his weeping. 

She had gone simply to sit beside him, to offer quiet comfort with her presence. After a while he’d looked at her; hopeless and broken, and finally admitted that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore. She’d contended that maybe it was okay not to have a plan and promised that whatever life threw at them, she would be there for him. 

You watch my back, I’ll watch yours, she reminded him. 

When she stood to go back to her bunk, Danse caught her arm and tugged her towards him, pulling her into his arms with such force that they toppled over onto the mattress. When his trembling subsided, Jackie gently held Danse’s face between her hands and he told her he would be lost without her. 

During the weeks that followed, Jackie took him to the nearby settlements and put him to work fortifying their defenses and training the residents how properly to defend themselves. Little by little, Danse had been reclaiming the humanity that had been stolen from him. Slowly he was finding the way back to himself. 

The days turned into weeks and Jackie had laid the Brotherhood to rest, deciding that she wasn’t going back. Before long, nearly two months had passed before the Brotherhood came to claim what was theirs. 

Backed by the setting sun in early May, a vertibird and a familiar face, clad in ridiculous aviators and enough arrogance to sail the Prydwen to the moon, a lancer had come under orders to bring Jackie back. She assured Danse that she wouldn't be long. She'd show face, go along with the pomp and circumstance, and promptly hand in her resignation. A few days, maybe a week, she promised. 

Now, Jackie couldn’t stand to look at Danse because it was a lie. She had failed him. Abandoned him in this miserable bunker because her hand had been forced and the burden weighed heavy on her heart. 

Finally, Danse looked at her but still she refused to meet his gaze. For she feared what he would discover from deep within. Under it all, she was terrified and ashamed. Maxson had broken her. Played to her weaknesses and sliced along her vulnerable underbelly, threatening to make her bleed by destroying the man she'd sacrifice anything to protect. 

Danse’s eyes immediately focused on the discoloration of her neck that her jacket didn’t quite hide. He swept her hair aside and tugged at the collar of her shirt to see the extent of the blue and purple splotches that stained her shoulder and chest. She had waited a few days in hopes that bruises would fade, but like a tattoo, they were branded on her skin. His fingers ran along the markings and she winced at his touch.

Shameful proof of her violation. 

“Did he hurt you?” Danse’s voice betrayed nothing except the clinical calmness of a bedside examination. 

Jackie shrugged away, an abstract smudge of dirt on the floor the focus of her attention. Try as she might though, his voice confirmed what she didn’t want to admit.  This had happened. It was real. 

There was no escaping what she’d done. The admission hurt like hell and no amount of attempting to swallow her shame could keep the tears from streaking down her cheeks, “Just my pride.” 

With a sigh, Danse went to catch her tears, “You shouldn’t-” 

“Everything has a price,” she pawed his hands way. “I threatened him, shoved my gun in his face, backed him into a corner… Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences for my actions?” 

“This…” he shook his head, hands retreating to his side, “the price was too high.  I– it wasn’t worth it.” At least he had the decency to catch himself and not defile her by saying he wasn’t worth her sacrifice.

“Don’t!” This time she did look at him. Her head snapped around and she could feel the heat of anger, flushing across her cheeks, “Don’t you dare patronize me by devaluing my decision to fight for you! I made my choice and so did you.  We did this together. Now we pay the price.” 

It was his turn to look away and hide. To cower in his corner. Slip into himself where no one could reach him. 

“You aren’t the only one who lost something here,” she wrapped her arms around her ribs, holding herself and staring at her knees. “If you care about me—even in the slightest—you won’t let my sacrifices be in vain.” 

“I'm not okay with this.” It was mumbled, but with conviction, like his words actually meant something. As if he could put action behind what he said. 

She shifted and drew up her knees to press her forehead into the knobby join of her legs, “And you think I am?” 

The question went unanswered but she didn't have it in her to press the issue. Instead, she let the tears continue to track down her face and run along her thighs before plummeting to the floor. 

Fragmented pieces of her former self splintered in her chest, the jagged edges scraping and tearing at her with each squeeze of her heart. Who was this woman she had become? On the outside, she looked much the same but an ugliness had consumed her. A disease that festered within and ruined everything it touched. Her insides were boiled and black. She had become infected by the sickness of this godforsaken world. And to think, she now called it her home. 

This place, where the wicked and the damned reaped the fruitful rewards of their lawlessness. They sat high and mighty upon their spoils of war, taking the desires of their flesh, without care for who they trampled in their merciless, single-minded path to obtain it. 

A world where innocence and humility were violations of the human condition because here you were conditioned not to think, not to feel. Because independent thought and emotions would get you killed or left for dead in a ditch. The idea that it was okay to desecrate the body and take the life of another simply because they looked at you wrong was commonplace here. It was disgusting and vile and somehow Jackie had found herself surviving, even thriving in this new world. It was ruining her, bending and molding her, and desensitizing her to forsake her humanity. What scared her the most, though, was the thought that maybe she was okay with that. 

She couldn't help but wonder what Danse thought of her now. It was impossible for her to rise to meet his expectations. She was damaged. Not worthy of his compassion. 

‘I'm not ok with this.’ 

Could he forgive her for her transgressions? Would he leave her? Could she live with herself if he did? 

Selfish. She was such a selfish woman. This had all been about what she wanted. He deserved better. 

Jackie dared to turn her face toward him, to steal a coveted glance at the man she had sacrificed everything for—everything including herself.  She had laid out all her cards on the table and in the face of victory, she'd still lost. Now she had to live with her choices, live with herself, as did he. Danse was entitled to so much more than she had to give.  It wasn’t fair to either of them. 

“I just thought you deserved to know the truth.” It was a meager excuse and she wasn’t worthy of staying here any longer, “I should go.” Though she made no attempt to leave. 

Danse sat much the same as her: hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, and fingers knotted in his hair. Still, she saw the twitch of his lips and tensing of his jaw as his eyes squeezed shut, and she knew. 

“You’re angry.” The statement hung in the air, but he remained unmoved. Unflinching. Unyielding. 

The impact of what she had done was finally beginning to settle in.  He was angry.  She would not be forgiven. And why? Why would he forgive her? Why on earth would she even entertain the idea that he would? The trap had been set and she had foolishly walked straight into it.  Now she would lie with the devil, sign his pact, and give away her soul. All in the name of honor and glory. All to save Danse's own soul. 

“I don’t belong here. I don’t…” she turned away and held herself closer, trying to fall deeper into the cavern of guilt that chipped away at her humanity, “...you deserve so much better.” 

Before the fresh tears could even form, Danse tugged at her arm and his fingers closed around her chin. He jerked her face toward him, forcing their eyes to meet.  There was determination in his muddy browns, a fierceness she hadn't seen in quite some time. 

“I’m only angry with myself,” he held her gaze, searching her eyes to make sure his message was received, “that I couldn’t protect you from this.” He was gentler now, releasing her chin to press his hand against her cheek. 

Jackie gravitated toward his touch and closed her eyes as she leaned into his warmth.  A beacon of hope that all was not lost. 

“Look at me.” Both of his hands cradled her face and reluctantly she opened her eyes, “this isn’t your fault.” The fierceness in his eyes shifted to reveal something more sinister, “I’ll burn down the entire Commonwealth if he lays a hand on you again.” 

She almost had the decency to smile at his conviction, but she was reminded, “You don’t have the luxury of making that promise.” 

The determination that was present before quickly faded. In the seconds it took for Danse’s expression to shift, she could see the desolation of defeat hover across his brow before he could erect the facade. 

“I will find a way to make this right.” Again, his words held no value, but maybe she could pretend they did. Maybe it would ease the raw and achy feeling. 

For a moment nothing happened.  Neither of them moved or even breathed.  They sat in an eternity of silence and Jackie allowed herself to drown in the warm pools of his brown eyes. Perhaps if she lingered there his empty promises would chase away the devastating reality that she had failed. 

Danse shuffled and slipped his arms around her shoulders. There was the briefest hesitation.  A resistance where Jackie contemplated if she would let this happen.  It didn’t take her long to arrive at her conclusion.  She would allow it. 

In a single movement, he pulled her to him and folded her into his embrace.  Jackie shifted her weight, curling up into him and relaxing against his chest only to feel the slightest tremble within his own body. It was too much to bear so she clung to him and wept in his arms because there were no words to ease their pain. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered after a while and loosened his hold on her to run his thumbs across her cheeks. 

“Yeah,” she didn't doubt him, but she also wasn't blind to the fact that he didn't control their fates anymore, “me too.” 

There were choices to be made and she'd sowed her seeds, chose her path.  She didn’t regret what she had done; she would do it again without hesitation. In the end, though, there was a price to be paid for her transgressions and it just might cost her own life.

[the-purple-martin]

My Plan

I have been going back and forth on how to continue with posting for Sacrifices. Chapter 20 is technically the end of book/part 1. I think am going to continue posting new chapters under the Sacrifices title, however, I have begun editing the first twenty chapters. One the edits are complete I will post chapters weekly under a separate work/title.

As for part 2, I am at least going to write the first five chapters before I start posting again. I want to have chapters ready to go in case I find myself not writing regularly.

[the-purple-martin]

Archive of Our Own - Sacrifices: Chapter 20

Sacrifices: Chapter 20

Chapters: 20/?

Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor (Fallout), Arthur Maxson & Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor (one sided)

Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen

Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strong Language, Violence, vengeance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Angst, No Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Coercion, Guilt, Ok Maybe Some Fluff, Sexual Content, Consent Issues, Canon Divergence, Modified Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Death, Redemption, just be patient, Slow To Update

Chapter 20

“There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though … betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.”

-Steven Deitz-

As the minutes dragged on into hours, Danse became increasingly restless. Propelled by nervous energy, he pushed himself to stand and pace about the bleakness of his cell. With each heavy footfall, the aching in his head intensifying. It didn’t matter how fast he attempted to outrun the throbbing, it stalked his every step. The whirling, feuding tangle of thoughts that Jackie’s confession had unleashed, crowded his head. It was too much. All too goddamn much.

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[the-purple-martin]

Sacrifices: Chapter 20

Chapters: 20/?

Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor (Fallout), Arthur Maxson & Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor (one sided)

Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen

Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strong Language, Violence, vengeance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Angst, No Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Coercion, Guilt, Ok Maybe Some Fluff, Sexual Content, Consent Issues, Canon Divergence, Modified Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Death, Redemption, just be patient, Slow To Update

Chapter 20

“There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.”

-Steven Deitz-

As the minutes dragged on into hours, Danse became increasingly restless. Propelled by nervous energy, he pushed himself to stand and pace about the bleakness of his cell. With each heavy footfall, the aching in his head intensifying. It didn’t matter how fast he attempted to outrun the throbbing, it stalked his every step. The whirling, feuding tangle of thoughts that Jackie’s confession had unleashed, crowded his head. It was too much. All too goddamn much.

The past twenty-four hours had slipped by in a blur and yet, the image of Jackie’s husband endured. It fed Danse’s uncertainty, robbing him of his rationale with the lucidity of the man’s likeness to his own. His dizzying, swaying world threatened to knock him off kilter and Danse staggered to a stop. He growled his frustrations and mashed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts. But entangled beneath it all was the woman he loved, held captive by fear and coercion.

Maxson.

Suddenly the warring ceased, his mind clearing with renewed conviction. Danse had come here for a greater purpose; to wage war on the Brotherhood with fist and fury alone. The mess in his head was nothing more than a useless vessel conjuring his anxiety and above all else...it was a distraction.

More than anything, Danse regretted his words shouted in anger at Jackie, but if he didn’t want them to be his last, he couldn’t allow his mind to be muddied with emotional entanglements. Regardless of his failing sanity, he had unintentionally led an insurgency to topple the Brotherhood and now, he intended to win.

Failure was not an option.

He pushed his clashing thoughts aside with the promise that he would set things right with Jackie later. War was afoot and Danse was a lone crusader, marching to the snare of his drumming feet. A loose cannon set to bring the Brotherhood to its knees. His opponent was well matched, yet Danse didn’t falter. Despite Maxson’s general threatening appearance, it was just that, a flaccid veneer used as an intimidation tactic.

Maxson was stockier than he, outweighing him in brute strength alone, but Danse held the combat advantage. He far exceeded Maxson in tactical expertise and field experience. Before his exile, if someone had wanted something done efficiently, done right, they sent Paladin Danse. There was a reason he’d been maintained in such high regard, and even though he hadn’t held the rank, he had been the strong-arm of the infantry.

War… Danse understood war. He’d spent over a decade fine tuning his skills, training to survive a life of bloodshed out in the field, and striving to be the best. The epitome of Brotherhood ideals, he upheld his reputation with proven results. Countless adversaries had died at his hands, life strangled from their eyes and burned from their bodies. An excellent marksman who wasn’t daunted by close-quarter combat, Danse excelled at being the model soldier.

Maxson’s legend, however, hadn’t been immune to propaganda. Inflated tales strategically told to ensure his rise to power instilled a god-like fervor amongst his soldiers. In reality, Maxson was no more a god than a man; worshiped for his name, rigorously trained to look the part, and conditioned to explicitly comply with the Brotherhood’s expectations. In reality, his experience with warfare was fleeting at best and the combat exposure he boasted had become a distant memory—Maxson had become complacent.

Despite his previous dedication, Danse had grown resentful and after his earlier encounter with the man, he’d begun to suspect it didn’t matter what feats Maxson had overcome. The more he thought about it, the more he doubted that the elder had ever accomplished any of them. Not really anyway. For Maxson was no longer the same man Danse had come to respected and proudly pledged his life to defend and perhaps, he was no longer a man at all.

Just as Danse was set to take another turn about the room, the cell door screeched open, halting his inner discourse. A soldier clad in olive officer's garb, sheathed beneath full combat armor, waited at the threshold of his cell. She stood at the ready, barking her contempt with the valley of her brows and the flare of her nostrils; her rifle held tense in her hands, sighted to end him if he so much as looked at her wrong.

“Move out,” she ordered with a flick of her rifle towards the open door.

Danse dithered at the sudden intrusion, swaying on the spot, burdened by his conflicting emotions. He should be moving, complying with his gait towards the door. Instead, he remained unmoved, struggling to stuff down the intense desire to resist. He lingered too long though, and was met with a swift advance and a rifle to the chest.

“I said move out!” the soldier gnashed her abhorrence through the strain of her jaw. “Do as you’re told or—”

“Enough.” Maxson emerged from the darkness, his face an unyielding void of emotion.

Wrapped in the regalia of false pretenses, Maxson’s command resurrected the imprint of their previous altercation and Danse was tempted to strangle the man before the guard could fire off a shot. His twitching fingers didn’t go unnoticed though, and Maxson angled him a harsh glace, warning him that he wouldn’t be afforded the opportunity. Reluctantly, Danse surrendered with the show of his hands, because all of this would mean nothing if it ended before it even began.

“Escort him to the staging area.” Maxson snapped off and pivoted to retreat through the doorway.

The guard grunted her disapproval and unwillingly let the rifle go slack in her hands. “The Elder has been lenient, but...” she growled and seized his arm, shoving him past her and towards the door, “it’s in your best interest not to resist.”

Despite no longer being a member of their ranks, Danse obeyed and followed Maxson out the room and into the darkened warehouse. A paladin in full power armor stood guard just outside the door and from what Danse could make out, the shadowy expanse was stuffed with renegade soldiers. A vast sea of orange and drab, men and women propped against walls, crammed into corners, and packed into disorganized rows. Guards swept the isles with sharp flicks of theirs eyes and rifles cradled at the ready.

Danse stuttered in his step, stunned by the sheer number of soldiers contained within the space. The coup had left the airport—and the Brotherhood—extremely vulnerable. In his selfishness, Danse had betrayed the only family he’d ever known.

“Keep moving.” the guard barked, shoving her rifle against his shoulder and forcing him to keep pace.

For a moment his eyes lingered on the scene, caught between doing the right thing and blindly following what he had been taught, only abandoning his inner turmoil when the door leading out whined open. His focus snapped back to his current objective, quickly deciding that he could deal with the repercussions of his actions later. Emotional entanglements were a luxury that war did not afford, so he stuffed away his uncertainty and walked on, out into the murky airport ruins.

Outside, the morning was held captive by impenetrable murk, broken only by blips of strange light drifting from the ground base. The crumbling buildings were swathed in wisps of white billowing in upon the sea. Opposite the warehouse, the dilapidated parking garage jutted through the mist and just ahead, the scantily guarded walls of the outer fortifications loomed a menacing stance. Perched above, the Prydwen hung in the sky, an ominous presence enwrapped in eerie half-light.

Heat clung to the early morning air and dribbled down Danse’s back as they walked past a young initiate stationed at the door. The muttered ‘Ad Victoriam’ awakened feelings of nostalgia and abandonment. He never thought he’d return to this place, and yet here he was, stalking the man responsible for his banishment, seeking some sort of justice...or at the very least, vengeance.

Just below the surface his anger brewed, bubbling and taunting him with the heinous images that had provoked his return. Maxson had committed the unspeakable, dishonored the Brotherhood with his willful betrayal of basic human decency. Now, the elder’s lumbering form bled into the fog, blurring the lines between the righteous and the wicked. Honor be damned, Maxson would pay for his violation, for his slaughter of hope and humanity.

At the cross street, Maxson deviated. Instead of following the road straight, through the gate and into the staging area, he veered left towards the eroded shoreline and abandoned maintenance warehouse. Danse’s restraint was waning. Whatever the man had planned, Danse didn’t trust him not to fight dirty.

He’s going to get away.

Madness fanned his fury at the thought and without regard for the consequences, Danse lunged at Maxson. He seized his jumpsuit and jerked him around, his fist ploughing into Maxson’s face with a grisly crack.

“I know what you are,” Danse growled and cocked his elbow to strike again.

Behind him, the guard's rifle hummed to life.

“Hold your fire.” Maxson ordered with a wave of his hand before she could snap off a shot. His attention quickly shifted back to Danse, countering with the surrender of his hands and calculated hint of a grin. “And what is it that you think you know?”

The cheeky bastard. Maxson knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re a hypocrite,” Danse ground out, searching Maxson’s bloodied face for any hint of the truth, but found only that sickening grin, “an imposter. A synth…”

“How dare you!” The stock of the guard’s rifle smashed against the back of Danse’s head, breaking his stance to topple into Maxson.

His surroundings sputtered and swayed, leaving him blinking and groping for stability. But before Danse could regain his footing, Maxson drew a hidden knife and plunged it into Danse’s side. He choked down the pain and thrust himself against the other man, only for Maxson to sidestep and twist the blade deeper, sending Danse stumbling to the pavement.

The guard opened fire and Danse hardly hard time to clamber out the way, but not before his shoulder caught the white-hot singe of laser shot. Streaks of red charred the ground and he just managed to evade them long enough to hear the click of a spent cell.

Just as Danse was set to barrage Maxson from behind, the earth beneath his hands trembled and hell’s wrath claimed the sky, splitting the air with a vicious volley of lead. Bullets slammed into pavement beside him and the guard crumpled to the ground a bloody mess.

The commotion, clapping at the compound’s entrance, provided enough distraction for Danse to scramble to his feet and barrel into the elder. Both men fumbled to the ground, a snarl of limbs gnawing for the upperhand. Maxson outweighed him, but Danse had the skill to shift his weight and force the man to his back. He lashed out, his fist bashing against Maxson’s skull before Danse’s hands found purchase around Maxson’s throat. His fingers clamped down around his neck, his thumbs digging deep into the soft flesh of his trachea and choking away his air supply.

This was it. Arthur Maxson’s end. Raw and visceral, Maxson writhed beneath Danse, twisting and contorting his body, trying to break free of the hold. He kicked out and grappled with Danse’s arms, scraping and scratching at his skin.

“Danse…”

Maxson’s eyes, wild and bulging with desperation, flicked about, searching for something, anything, to save him.

“Danse!” Jackie ripped him from his rage with a heave of his shoulder and Maxson sucked in the the sweet breath of her diversion.

She towered over them with her pistol sighted between Maxson’s eyes, looking just as mad and untamed as Danse felt but her eyes were clear—sharp and determined. For a moment she eyed him, exuding her silent intent, and he understood. Maxson was hers. She needed to do this.

Without hesitation, Danse clambered off of the elder and hauled him up by the collar of his jumpsuit and force him to kneel before Jackie. She angled her disgust down at him with a snarled, “How long?”

Maxson said nothing, only glared up at her with a hollowness in his eyes.

“How long?!” she echoed with a sharp advance.

Still Maxson said nothing.

At his silence, Jackie snapped and struck him with her pistol, bringing it down in a tight arc. Maxson jerked and swayed, blinking and coughing as Danse struggled to keep him upright and just for a moment, he looked at her with lifeless eyes.

“You have nothing to say for yourself.” It was a statement, confirmation that this was it. She glared at him, watching...waiting, challenging him to fight back, but Maxson refused to afford her the satisfaction.

Jackie growled her frustration and shoved the barrel of her pistol against his forehead, “Ad Victoriam, Elder,” she snarled and squeezed the trigger.

[the-purple-martin]

Flashback

“Incoming...!”

Hellfire rained from the sky and the earth exploded, erupting in flames and sending debris screaming through air. The ground groaned, spitting and sputtering it’s muddy protest and fire licked the frozen tundra. Yet, Jackie felt nothing, heard nothing, only silence. Silence broken only by muzzle flash tearing through the darkness. Thrown from her vehicle, her consciousness shattered and haphazardly smashed together on impacts, she swam in a soundless world, groping for a sense of her surrounding and her rifle…

Damn it!

Her rifle. Where the fuck was her rifle?

In the distance, a figure appeared amongst the smoking wreckage, hobbling towards her. Words were tumbling from his mouth, but no sound met Jackie’s ears. He collapsed beside her, his hands roamed her body, plucking at her uniform and yelling garbled nonsense. She stared at him, her eyes struggling to adjust through the lingering shock of the explosion.

When she didn’t respond, he seized the straps of her armor and dragged her from the smoldering remains of her convoy. Slowly reality shifted back into place. The clack, clack, clack of enemy fire droned into a thundering assault of her ears and the soldier lugging her along was snapping out orders to take cover behind the embankment of the road. He heaved them both down the slope and propped her against the earthen ridge.

“Dixon!” he shouted, snapping his fingers and yanking her chin to peer into her eyes, “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Crenshaw.

[the-purple-martin]

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson & Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor (one-sided) Characters: Paladin Danse, Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson, Scribe Haylen Additional Tags: Post-Blind Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strong Language, Violence, vengeance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Angst, No Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Coercion, Guilt, Ok Maybe Some Fluff, Sexual Content, Consent Issues, Canon Divergence, Modified Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Redemption, just be patient

Five minutes.

That's all the time she allowed herself to waste. To crumple to the floor and succumb to the utter and all-consuming panic.  Her hands clutched at her ribs, nails digging into her sides as she heaved and screamed and cried. Overwhelmed by the reality that Danse was likely already dead.

Her world blurred and the bleak walls of the bunker came crashing down on her. Pinned beneath the weight of her hysteria, she retched and choked on bile. For a fleeting, desperate moment, she entertained the idea of breathing in and letting herself asphyxiate on the filth in her mouth.

Breathe, just breathe.

Her mind eased her racing thoughts. Slowly the room stilled and she was left a pathetic mess, weeping on the floor and drowning in self-loathing. This was selfish, a waste of time and above all else, it was not about her.

With the reminder that Danse’s life was dependent on every second she wasted, Jackie pushed herself to her feet and urged her limbs to stumble through the irrational haze. She staggered across the room, aimlessly groping for a plan, and dragged a dirty sleeve across her face. Except it only furthered her dilapidated state by smudging her cheeks with grime.

Don’t forget to breathe. Mindful breaths.

It had been years since Jackie had struggled with anxiety so intense that it triggered panic attacks. But waking up in that goddamn vault had brought about a new kind of hell for her mind to wander in.  Often in the months before joining the Brotherhood, she had found herself pressed into a dark corner, stricken with fear, unable to move or breathe or think.  Terrified that some horrible creature or the perversions of man that called themselves human beings would find her and she would die alone and forgotten in this shithole.

Once she started traveling with Danse, she had been able to keep her anxieties at bay for a time. He reminded her of Nate and despite the heartache it brought her, Jackie didn’t feel so vulnerable in Danse’s presence. A sense of normalcy had begun to return and with each passing day she reclaimed a piece of her sanity.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her demons stuffed away forever though. On a frostbitten night in midwinter, they had stopped to set up camp, hunkering down in a crumbling building for the evening. That night, Jackie had awoken in a panic. She’d jolted awake, cold sweat trickling down her back, convinced that this was the end.

“Danse?” she called out to him, hearing only faint rustling from somewhere beyond the shadows in return. She clenched her sleeping bag in her hands, her heart hammering away in her chest. “Danse!” again she cried his name only for the rustling to crescendo into horrid hissing and screeching.

She desperately groped around for her weapon, her Pip-Boy, anything to help fend off whatever was lurking in the darkness, except she came up empty handed. This was it. She was going to die, torn apart by some wretched wasteland creature, feasting on her innards as she screamed in vain.

Suddenly loud crashing and the sounds of grinding metal filled the air.

“Soldier?”  It came out forceful and frantic as Danse clanked through the room, “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know!” Jackie panted, unable to catch her breath, “I don’t know!  I can’t breathe!”  The panic threatened to strangle her and she shook with the pounding of her heart. “Something’s wrong!”

Unable to control her racing thoughts, Jackie was convinced she would hyperventilate, or at the very least, die of embarrassment. She pressed her face into her hands, attempting to conceal her shameful state and regain some semblance of control.

“You’re alright.”  

She nearly leapt out of her skin at Danse’s hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear. So consumed by her irrational fear, she hadn’t even heard him exit his power armor. It stood a menacing stance at the edge of the shadows and Danse... Danse was so near that Jackie was suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions she’d been trying so hard to bury since leaving the vault. All the pain and heartache, her insurmountable grief, leaked from the little box she’d haphazardly stuffed them away in.

“It’s not real, you’re safe. It’ll pass, just breathe.”

Danse had taken a knee beside her and his grip, firm on her shoulder, moored her to reality. At least until she met his gaze and those heartbreakingly familiar brown eyes shattered her sanity. It took everything in her not to clamber into his arms and weep away her troubles. Instead Jackie clutched at his uniform and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the haunting reminder and hold back the tears caught just behind her lids.

Nate...she missed him so goddamn much it hurt. But Danse...right now, Danse would have to do. She let his soft, calming words sooth her aching heart and slowly the panic subsided. Left with only an echo, Jackie’s hands fall into her lap. Broken and hollow, she grasped at the ghosts of her former life splintering in the parallels of her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered and pawed at her face, wiping at tears or the flush of shame she didn’t know.

“This is common among soldiers.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that despite her madness Danse still had her back. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Jackie just stared at her hands. There was sadness in Danse’s voice, a resonance of understanding that made her wonder about his own mental state. She wasn’t blind. She’d seen how he struggled. How he kept himself endlessly busy, avoiding sleep or rest so he didn’t have to confront his demons. Danse carried the weight of the wasteland on his shoulders and clearly he cared about her. He was a tough nut to crack, but underneath it all he was kind: a good man.

All Jackie had done since enlisting was repay his kindness in cruelty. She had been insubordinate at best and nothing short of a cold-hearted bitch at worst.

“I haven’t treated you fairly,” she admitted, “I’ve been angry and so caught up in myself. You...” she nervously wrung her hands together as she trailed off. “You were an easy target.”

Danse shifted to lean his elbow on his knee. “Sometimes trauma makes us do things we aren’t proud of.”

“Doesn’t give me the right to be nasty.” She glanced over at him and was met with the faintest of smiles.

“Is that an apology I hear, soldier?”  

“I-ah…,” she tittered to herself, “yeah, I suppose it is.”

Danse continued to grin and he knocked his shoulder against hers, "I appreciate the sentiment.”

She leaned into him, wishing he could give her so much more than just fleeting touches. “Thanks,” she muttered and pulled away before her emotions got the better of her again. “I can take watch if you want.”

“Negative,” his fingers brushed against her shoulder as he stood to retreat back to his armor, waiting until he was safely encased inside before continuing, “but you can sit with me if you’d like.”

Jackie’s chest ached thinking about that moment. What if she never saw Danse alive again? The realization halted her advance across the room. Danse…he was the only thing worth fighting for in this world, the only thing that kept her breathing. He was her lifeblood and if he died at the hands of the Brotherhood for her foolish, selfish mistakes, they might as well kill her too.

This was her fault. She should have done more, fought harder, told Maxson where could shove it and walked away. Should have run and never looked back. Taken Danse somewhere far away. Somewhere near the sea where they could watch the sunrise and hear the waves crashing upon the sand. Leave it all behind and allow the Commonwealth fall to its own demises. But Jackie had been broken. Gutted and left to bleed, too scared to retaliate or flee and worse, too afraid to say no. Now she would atone for her sins in fear and blood.

The cycle of panic threatened to repeat itself but someone had once told her that, ‘courage was not the absence of fear, rather the knowledge that something else was more important than fear.’ Danse was more important than her irrational mind. If she had any hope of saving him, she needed to take action.

Fear still rattled her bones, scratching at her skill like the parasite it was, but Jackie pushed herself forward. She forced her feet to carry her across the room to where she had dumped her duffle bag the night before. Hastily she stripped of her soiled clothes and plucked a clean uniform from her pack, dressing with little regard to her personal appearance.  

Unkempt and unhinged, it would have to do. She would have to do.

With a sigh and a final glance around the room she jabbed the elevator call button, pacing and trying to formulate a plan while she waited for its decent. A plan that didn’t involve her solo assault of the Brotherhood stronghold or the very real possibility that she would be forced to murder their Elder.

Shit.

Jackie stumbled to a stop, staggered by the consequences of Danse’s actions. If she wanted him to come out of this alive, she was going to have to bring down the Brotherhood -- alone. If by some stroke of dumb luck she was successful, then what? The Commonwealth would crumble at the sudden power vacuum.

Dammit Danse!

The door to the elevator clanged open and Jackie was left standing there, messaging her forehead between her fingers. She didn’t know what the hell she was going to do but she slung her duffle bag over her shoulder and snatched up her rifle nonetheless.  She would make it up as she went and hope to whatever gods were still listening that they didn’t end up dead.

The elevator made an agonizingly slow ascent to the surface and Jackie prayed that she was wrong. She hoped that Danse had just gone to patrol the perimeter or ventured to a nearby settlement for supplies and he would be waiting for her in the vestibule of the bunker. If only she could be so lucky.

When the elevator finally rattled to a halt, Jackie was greeted with darkness. Quiet and empty, midsummer twilight hung in the sky beyond the open door. Her heart skipped a stuttering beat at the sight. This was good. In the cover of night and concealed in her armor, perhaps Danse was still alive. Kept safe in the guise of a much-coveted Brotherhood paladin set on a warpath to bring them to their knees, burn them to the ground for betraying not only himself but the woman he had devote his life to.

The irony nearly had her smirking, except she was reminded that they were likely both going to wind up dead before this was all over.  

Jackie made her way out into the desolate wasteland and rooted around in her bag, searching for the signal grenade she had stashed away in case of emergency. The sun pushed the envelope of dawn painting the skyline in faint wisps of pink and orange. It lazily eclipsed the deep blues and black of night as she walked out into the open, heading east to the unofficial extraction point.

It was the quiet of the wasteland that unnerved Jackie as she walked. Here silence didn’t necessarily mean safety and she had spent the entirety of her life before the war surrounded by constant background noise.  The world never stopped, even in the dead of night, there was never true silence. Now her surroundings were deceptively quiet, peaceful even, and it unsettled her.

It didn’t take long to reach the designated location, a vacant stretch of broken road behind the old ironworks factory. She threw down the signal grenade and watched as the plume of smoke circled up into the air. Not so patiently she waited for the distant hum of the vertibird’s engines to break the silence.

The sun breached the horizon and with it brought the feeling of failure. Not once had she bothered to check in with Danse last night to assess his own mental state. His deteriorating physical health had been an obvious sign of his instability, yet Jackie had failed to acknowledge it. Instead, she burdened him with her insignificant troubles. She’d neglected to reciprocate his kindness and allow him to voice the complexities and emotionality of his internal conflict, and look where it had gotten her.

She had promised to be there for him, help him heal, and secretly she had vowed to love him. Then in the face of hardship, she’d abandoned him. Jackie couldn’t breathe and before she could stop it, tears were leaking down her cheeks. She had betrayed him when he had needed her the most.

The crippling intensity of her guilt sliced at her underbelly, threatening to tear her open and spill her guts upon the pavement. It would have been better, easier for them both, if she had just endured the pain of letting Danse go. Allowed him to move on and live out his days in peace. After everything he’d been though, he at least deserved that much. In the end, Jackie had let her self-serving desires get the better of her. Now, it no longer mattered, she would be forced to pay it forward, with her life and his.

The ground groaned beneath her feet as she paced in an attempt to occupy her mind and halt the hemorrhaging of her spiraling thoughts. Bile rose in her throat and she commanded her body to be still, but she lost the battle and just barely caught her knees in her hands as she retched and stumbled forward.

The pooling sick a reflection of the disease that festered within her. It disgusted her how far she had fallen, the things she had done, people she’d killed, monsters she’d made. Jackie didn’t deserve this life and she clung to the shards of humanity that still resided within her.

Her urge to vomit again was quelled just in time to hear the familiar whirl of a vertibird’s engines approaching. Earth and grass were whipped about and dirt was violently kicked up with the aircraft’s landing decent. Jackie covered her face with her arms, attempting to shield herself from the dust storm. Despite the sickening feeling that still lingered, she hoisted herself up into the ‘bird as soon as the landing gear made contact with the ground.

A familiar face, clad in aviators and arrogance, greeted her as she clambered inside. It was always the same Lancer who picked her up. The same pilot who had run transport for Danse and his team and who had taken Maxson to the bunker. He was the only one authorized for extraction from this location and even though words had never been exchanged, Jackie knew he knew and she wondered what price he had paid to keep their secret.

He handed her a headset as she scooted by to sit into the co-pilot’s seat, the roar of the engines was drown out when she slipped it on.

“Paladin,” His voice crackled through the earpiece, followed by terse nod and a salute.

“Geers.” Jackie returned the gesture out of habit.

For a moment Geers watched her, taking in her obviously disheveled state, but chose not to comment, “Ma’am, you’ve been given orders to report to the Command Deck immediately upon arrival.”

“Wonderful,” she scowled, “who did I piss on this time to be owed the pleasure?”

A knowing look passed between them before he spoke, “The Elder knows where you go when you disappear.”

Jackie said nothing and stared at her feet, the knots in her stomach twisting tighter.

Geers allowed the void of conversation stretch on before he added, “Maxson thought you weren’t coming back this time.”

And there is was, the painful reminder of her violation.

“Yeah, that was the plan...” She could feel his eyes on her, pitying her, questioning her.

“So why did you?” he dared to ask.

None of your goddamn business.

Jackie wanted to snap at him. Put him in his place and maintain the distance that was held within the chain of command, but she bit her tongue because it was rude and Geers was one of the few people she could still trust – her friend.

She twisted her hands together and mused her bottom lip. Should she tell him the truth? The truth would likely get him killed so Jackie decided on a half-truth. “There's been a recent development that requires my immediate attention back on the Prydwen.”  

Static hissed in coms while Geers watched her with a frown hovering upon his brow. “You told him about Maxson...didn’t you?” he pressed her with the demand and sharp angel of his eyes when she didn’t immediately respond. “Jackie-”

“Just take me back.” It wasn’t a request, she was done playing games. Every second she spent dicking around with Geers put Danse at risk, they needed to leave – now.  

Geers cursed under his breath and Jackie could hear the eyeroll as he turned back to jab at the instrumentation panel.

“Whiskey, golf, echo, seven, this is Lancer-Knight Geers en route to the Prywden.”

Static droned in her ears, her stomach lurching when he abruptly jerked the stick the get them in the air.

“Acknowledged, what’s your status Lancer?” the voice on the other end asked.

“I’ve got movement. Delta November inbound. Juliet Charlie,” Geers glanced over at her, looking more smug than ever, “secure. Give the order.”

More static and then finally air traffic control came back, “Roger that. You’ve been cleared for landing in bay two upon your arrival.

“Roger out.” Geers responded and flipped a switch, cutting out the static.

“What was that about?” Jackie wasn’t sure she liked what she just heard.

“You aren’t the only one with secrets.” There was that look again. Whatever Geers had been up to, he was damn proud of himself.

If Jackie didn’t know any better she would say this reeked of mutiny. “I don’t like this,” she frowned and shook her head.

“Too bad, sister. You gave up control when you climbed in my aircraft.” Geers pulled down his sunglass just enough to wink at her like some crazed junkie. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

God, she wanted to smack that stupid grin right off his face. Though, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. All she could do was  close her eyes and hope that whatever half-baked plan Geers had cooked up didn’t get them all killed.

[the-purple-martin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor (Fallout) Characters: Paladin Danse (Fallout), Female Sole Survivor Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Thunderstorms, Feelings, Love, Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Sexual Content Series: Part 3 of Charlie and Danse Summary:

Danse has been away, Charlie's been worried, and perhaps Danse finally understands what it means to be truly happy - what it means to be human.

For @marvilus73

Night had befallen the Castle and with it, a lashing of freezing rain. It beat against the outer walls, streaming down the limestone bricks in gnarled rivulets only to be swept away by the churning sea below. And yet, within its walls the Castle’s inhabitants slept, safe and warm, comforted by the reality that their lives were now truly beginning anew. With the end of the war, an almost-peace had settled upon the city, and the stronghold offered a luxury that few had been able to partake in until now – sleep.

Even through the storm, settlers and Minutemen, families and children, citizens and soldiers alike all slept. All except one. Despite the heat of the fire and the warm body beside her, Charlie shivered as she lay awake, staring at the blackness above.

Since the destruction of the Institute she had been plagued with insomnia. Her mind conjured sleepless nights with endless thoughts of the son she had lost and uncertainty about the family she had gained. Visions of the life she had left behind and the one she was beginning with a man who believed he wasn’t worthy of her love and a boy she wasn't sure she deserved, tangled Charlie’s thoughts deep into the wee hours of the morning.

Even though memories of the vault no longer haunted Charlie, the cold still bothered her. It triggered irrational anxiety and feelings of being trapped. Strangled by icy tendrils with nowhere to escape, it reminded her that there was still so much she could lose. One wrong decision and the Wastes would swallow her family.

Tonight was no different. Charlie had awoken to the sputtering of a dying fire and the first rumblings of thunder upon the horizon. Now, she whittled away her worries as lightning split the sky outside, illuminating the room just long enough for her to make out the fine cracks in the aged ceiling. It was close, close enough that she barely counted to one before the crack of thunder rattled her bones.

Danse twitched and grumbled his protest at the offending storm before rolling over and blindly reaching though the darkness.

“Charlie…?”

"Shh..." She pushed the blanket aside and scooted closer, her fingers tangling with his as she guided his arm rest around her waist.

"Charlie," he mumbled again and laid his head on her pillow.

"I'm here." The half light of the fire cast harsh shadows upon Danse's face, dark circles rimmed his eyes and hard lines stretched across his heavy brow. Charlie wondered if he had slept at all while he had been away. She brushed the wayward strands from his eyes and traced her thumb along the old scar that cut down his forehead. "The storm...it woke me too."

“Mm…” the soft rumbling of his sigh prickled against her skin, “I missed you.”

"I missed you too," Charlie smiled at how freely Danse admitted his feelings these days. He'd come a long way since she had found him, broken and alone, in the bunker. Still though, she worried and perhaps she always would. Even with all the progress, she wasn't convinced he had truly accepted who he really was.

"You don't need to worry about me." The grogginess of sleep lingered in Danse's voice but his eyes, rich and dark, alive with the glow of the fire, caught her by surprise.

"I wasn't..."

"I could hear you thinking," Danse smiled and kissed her forehead.

Charlie scoffed, feigning offense, "I thought you were asleep."

She attempted to wiggle away, but Danse caught her in his arms, pulling her to him until she was trapped against his chest. He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, his fingers finding their way to the sensitive skin above her hip.

"Danse!" She squealed, squirming in his arms and trying but failing to escape his hold, "Stop!"

With a chuckle and smile that brightened his entire face, he relented.

Unable to contain her own giggles, Charlie swatted at his shoulder, "What's the matter with you?"

His fingers lingered on her hip, just barely skimming her skin, “Tactical diversion.”  

“Oh? Tickling...” she rubbed her nose against his, “that in the field manual?”

“Mm-hmm,” Danse teased, pressing his fingers gently against her hip again.

“No!” Charlie reached for his hand, trying to stop him, except Danse caught her wrist before she could.

He pulled her hand to his mouth, softly kissing the tips of her fingers as he whispered, “You worry too much.”

“I just...” she hesitated but smiled anyway, watching the flickering fire light illuminate the flecks of gold in Danse’s eyes, “want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

“Charlie, I am happy.” Danse brushed his knuckles along her cheek, the fine lines around eyes crinkling with the curving of his mouth, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You say that but-”

“Something happened while I was at that settlement." Surprised by Danse’s interruption, she expected a reprimand and sombering of the mood. Instead, he continued to smile and stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Something that made me realize that...maybe I’ve been wrong. That maybe where I came from...doesn’t make me any less of a man,” he paused to lean his forehead against hers, the tip of his nose just barely touching hers, “or any less worthy of your love.”

Consumed by his nearness and the overwhelming warmth that bloomed in her chest, Charlie was lost to his sudden admission. Never before had Danse been so bold and she could see it in his eyes, something had changed, he had changed.

“Charlie,” his lips whispered against hers as he breathed her name, “you make me feel human.”

“You are human,” she murmured. Her cheeks burned and she wanted nothing more than to press herself against him and show him just how human he was.

“You’re right,” Danse pulled her closer. His thumb traced along her jaw before he slowly slid his hand into her hair, his fingers tangling with her loose waves. “You’ve always been right.”

Charlie couldn’t breathe. All previous ponderings forgotten with any shred of self-control when Danse softly kissed her lips, lingering there just long enough for the pounding of her heart to drive her mad with yearning from the overwhelming desire to be close to him. To feel his skin, slick and warm and hungry, against hers. To be wrapped up in his arms, overpowered by the all-consuming sense of security that his embrace provided.

When she kissed him back, her lips lusted for unspoken desires. The soft caress of Danse’s lips upon hers threatened to drown her in a tidal wave of warmth. His insistent mouth pushed against her shaking lips, parting them to entwine his tongue hers. Charlie trembled at his forcefulness, her nerves tingling with sensation that had been neglected too long.

The mattress creaked at her back as he rolled over to firmly press his body against hers. Charlie was enraptured, held captive by the weight of his desire. His lips devoured hers leaving her breathless and hungry for more. Her senses unraveled with each desperate pant he swallowed and she clung to him as if his body was the only solid thing keeping her from sinking into her dizzying, helpless impulses.

Charlie was sure she would drown in the heat of his mouth and his thoaty groans that boiled her blood. Her hands grabbed and pulled at his shirt, craving to feel his skin on hers. The taut muscles of his back and the tease of his flesh beneath her fingers, not nearly enough to ease her aching. Danse chuckled, a deep guttural sound that reverberated from his chest, at her whining when his shirt caught on his arms.

In one swift movement he yanked it off and Charlie was rewarded with the vast expanse of his naked chest. Her fingers splayed through the dusting of hair on his chest and she stretched her hands up over his shoulders. All bulk and hard lines, she couldn’t help her eyes from wandering or her hands from touching every inch of exposed skin her fingers could reach. Before she could savor the extent of his body, Danse abruptly pulled her upright and tugged her shirt over her head.

He was immersed in the beauty of her body, his eyes flitted over her exposed chest before his arm enwrapped her waist and he held her flush against his body. The heat of his skin consumed her and Charlie melted into him, sighing at the feeling of intimacy burning between them. For a moment Danse paused to savor her lips with soft kisses and brush her hair from her face. His eyes were alight with unspoken emotion, warm pools of love and devotion that wordlessly whispered forever.

Danse held her close as he pushed her back towards the mattress. His lips never strayed far from hers, and he tenderly caressed her cheek as her head fell back against the pillow. Charlie ran her hands over his shoulders, relishing the way his muscles tensed and flexed, raw strength and power wrapped in firm flesh. Her fingers slid up his neck, and she scratched her nails through the short strands at his nape before fisting her hand in his hair with a firm tug.

“Charlie...” he grunted a ragged pant, fueling the fire within her veins that ravished her body with hot flutters from deep within her belly.

He bit at her lip in response and kissed her jaw, making his way down her neck. The heat of his mouth drifted along, lips pinching and sucking at the sensitive flesh. His lips set her skin aflame and wracked her body with delicious tingles that prickled across her flesh. Danse palmed her breast, brushing his thumb across her nipple before tracing the curve of her body down past her hips. He paused to run his fingers under the waistband of her underwear and Charlie couldn’t help the needy whimper that parted her lips.

With pressure already building, spurring her on, it was too much. She needed him. Needed to be close to him. To feel every part of him. Charlie dragged her nails down his back, relishing in the way he grunted and sighed. Her hands fumbled with the waistband of his briefs before Danse pushed back and looked down upon her as if she was the sun and the moon. His entire whole world. As if she was his every heartbeat and the breath upon his lips.

She reached for him, needing to touch him and connect with him in that moment. Her hand caressed his face, her thumb scratching through his stubble as she smiled up at him. Carefully, Danse touched her, taking his time to cherish every inch of her body. He smoothed his hands over her stomach, lingering at her hips before pulling off her underwear and shimmying out of his.

As he leaned down, he ran his hands along her calves and kissed the inside of her thighs. Slowly, he came back to her lips, kissing his way along her hip, then up from her navel. His mouth and his hands teased her breasts, sucking and squeezing until Charlie was left gasping. Her chest heaved with the warm sensations that coiled through her body.

“Danse,” she whined as his tongue flicked over her nipple.

Distracted by her soft pants, he looked up to meet her gaze. His brown eyes, filled with unending devotion, threatened to end her before they even began. Charlie twined her fingers in his thick hair, scratching at his scalp, and pulled him closer to capture his mouth, their lips melding together. Lost to the fervor of his mouth, she writhed beneath the weight of his body and pressed her hips into him.

They both groaned and Danse reached between them, stroking himself and rubbing the head of his cock through her wetness. With a gentle roll of his hips he slipped inside her. Charlie cried out, whimpering at the slow, undulating pressure of him pushing into her. Enraptured with sensation, she was unable tell him how much she needed him and how he made her feel whole.

Danse completed her.

She rocked her hips, desperate to feel every part of him, but Danse seized her hip and nearly collapsed on top of her, barely managing to catch himself on his elbow.

“Stop, stop,” his breath came in shallow pants as he pleaded for her not to move and dipped his head to rest on her shoulder.

Breathless and overcome with emotion, Charlie wound her fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek. “It’s-it’s been too long” she whispered in his ear.

Finally, Danse lifted his head and moved with gentle rolls of his hips, “God, I missed you so damn much.”

Charlie had no words as he thrust into her, only the soft sighs and moans that she couldn’t hold back. She relished his slow, tender movements and the way his skin slid against hers. Warmth spread in her chest and she clung to him, unwilling to be separated from him even a fraction. Her thighs already trembled at the feeling of being so intimately bound to him.

Danse pulled away if only for a moment to grunt and sigh before returning to kiss her cheeks and along her jaw. He kissed down her neck, taking time to message the sensitive skin at the curve of her shoulder with his tongue. His teeth grazed her collar bone and she sighed his name, her heart pounding with the pressure already building within her.

But Danse was becoming impatient. His hips jerked forward and he thrust into her harder than before. Hands were everywhere, touching, grasping, clutching at skin, hot and slick. Charlie dug her nails into his back, scratching up to grip at his shoulders before smoothing her fingers down to feel the movement of Danse’s muscles flexing with each thrust of his hips.

His movements became erratic, uncoordinated, and Charlie wrapped her leg around his waist. Her body tingled with the sensation of him moving within her. Heat fluttered in her belly as her mounting pleasure unraveled her senses. Pressure coiled within her and she could feel that Danse was right there with her.

She clutched at his shoulders and gripped the back of his neck for leverage to press her body up against him. Overwhelmed with heat and sensation, Danse snapped his hips into her and Charlie cried out as euphoria burned through her. A few quick thrusts and Danse was quivering and groaning with his own bliss.

Unable to hold himself up, he allowed the weight of his body to pull him down and guide his head to rest upon Charlie’s shoulder. He nuzzled into her neck, lips pressing ever so slightly against her skin. Reluctant to move or part from each other, they remained like that, a breathless tangle of limbs, for several moments.  

Charlie combed her fingers through his hair, trying to catch her breath and tenderly rubbed his back. Slowly, Danse untangled himself from her and shifted to lie on his back. He pulled her close, and Charlie snuggled up to him, resting her hand on his chest above his heart, right where it belonged.

“I don’t like when you’re gone,” she mumbled against his skin.

“I know,” he lightly trailed his fingers up her arm and threaded his fingers through her tousled hair , “but it makes this so much sweeter.” Danse pressed his fingers to her chin, tilting her face up so he could capture her gaze, “Charlie, my love, do you know how much you mean to me?"

Her heart stuttered at the sentiment. Captivated by the soft smile upon his lips, Charlie couldn’t look away. She loved every part of him. His warm brown eyes, so full of love and a lifetime of devotion. She loved every facet of his face, every line and scar; she loved them all. And she loved him more than words could possibly express.  

“I could ask you the same,” her voice a breathless whisper as she murmured, “I love you.”

His smile never faltered, and he pressed his lips to hers once more, “I love you too.”

Danse brushed the threads of hair from her face and tucked her head beneath his chin, wrapping her up in his arms as he kissed her brow. Within a few minutes, Danse’s chest began to rise and fall with the deep, rhythmic sounds of sleep. Content and warm and barely able to keep her own eyes open, Charlie let the warmth of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep, surrendering herself to unconsciousness with her worries long since forgotten.

[the-purple-martin]

Current WIP Preview

Inside, Charlie whittled away her worries while lightning split the sky outside, illuminating the room just long enough for her to make out the fine cracks in the aged ceiling. It was close, close enough that she barely counted to one before the crack of thunder rattled her bones.

Danse twitched and grumbled his protest of the offending storm before rolling over and blindly reaching though the dark.

“Charlie…?”

[the-purple-martin]

“Greenish light spattered the wall a sickly hue, not quite concealing the cackling specters who heckled her sanity. Jackie had trusted Maxson,  trusted him. Believed that even in his coercion of her, it had somehow all been for a greater good. That despite Maxson’s own increasing instability, he was honorable. A man who would stand behind his beliefs no matter the cost. That his unreasonable hatred for all things non-human was derived from his own very human flaws of prejudice and greed. That at the very least Maxson was a man of his word.”

[the-purple-martin]

Decades had passed, untouched by time, down here in this hole. Mold and mildew grew, dust and filth choked out the oxygen and stamped out the chance for survival here. Yet two beings remained unearthed in the ground.  Scraping the pieces together, trying to live in a world they didn’t belong, attempting to continue and move forward with what little dignity they had left.

[the-purple-martin]

So, I’ve been working a rewriting some of the beginning chapter of Sacrifices. I wasn’t super happy with the writing quality and there are some things I wasn’t sure about and now need to tie together or add context. Rereading isn’t required but some things make a little more sense.

“Look at me,” both his hands cradled her face and reluctantly she opened her eyes, “this isn’t your fault.” The fierceness still lingered in his muddy browns, “I’ll burn down the entire Commonwealth if he lays a hand on you again.”

She almost had the decency to smile at his conviction, but she was reminded, “You don’t have the luxury of making that promise.”

[the-purple-martin]

For @marvilus73 because her sole survivor Charlie is just as beautiful as she is. Sometimes Charlie inspires me when I think I have no inspiration left.

Chapters: 1 of 2 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor Characters: Paladin Danse (Fallout), Female Sole Survivor Additional Tags: Fluff, Developing Relationship, Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Friendship, they’re a little stubborn Series: Part 1 of Charlie and Danse Summary:

Charlie had been so focused on not allowing herself to become attached that it hadn’t occurred to her that maybe Danse had been fighting the same feelings.

[the-purple-martin]

Current WIP

Crystals crept along the outer edges of the dirt stained window and as the wind rattled the frame, the quiet crackling of frosty tendrils could be heard stretching across the grimy glass.