4. The Refuge

Paladin Danse stood on the battlements of the Castle, looking off towards the airport. The Prydwen looked absolutely gorgeous in the early morning light, the violets and reds of another Commonwealth sunrise reflected in her steely exterior, giving the airship the illusion of being birthed by fire. He had always loved the design of her, at once both regal and powerful. It reminded him of Arthur Maxson himself, he realized, which made sense. He supposed the ship was an extension of his friend, in a way. Larger than life, intimidating, and yet somehow comforting at the same time.

Danse sighed. He wondered how things were going back at the airport. When he’d left, he had initially planned on returning with Myra as soon as she was able to travel. They had work to complete. But now, knowing how much she was struggling, he couldn’t bring himself to force her to return. At least not until she’d decided to support the Brotherhood above all other factions. Bringing her back as an unknown variable was just asking for her execution, and Danse would risk just about anything to prevent that.

“Homesick already, Danse?” Myra called from behind him, and he turned to look at her. She hobbled forward defiantly, bracing herself against the wrought iron railing, her shoulder-length hair unkempt. Myra was doing her best to put on a brave front, but it was clear that she was still in considerable pain.

“You should be recuperating in bed,” the Paladin chided her, “not climbing stairs.”

Myra groaned as she continued making her way to his side. “That’s boring. Besides, I’m never going to get better if I don’t push myself.”

Danse closed the distance between them, offering her his arm. “Push yourself too much, Larimer, and you’ll never leave that bed again. Did Ignatius clear you, or have you decided to be insubordinate?”

She chuckled weakly, coughing. “In case you forgot, Danse, I’m the General. I literally have no one to be insubordinate to.”

“That’s erroneous,” he muttered. “You and I both know that Ignatius gets the final say as long as your body is recovering. So can you walk back to your room, or do you require my assistance?”

Myra sighed heavily. “In a bit. Is it really too much for me to ask to watch the sunrise with you? I’ve been cooped up for weeks!”

Danse relented. “Very well. But unless you wish to remain on bed rest indefinitely, Larimer, you really ought to let your body heal.”

She nodded, leaning gently against his armor-plated side. “I know. I was just worried about you.”

The Paladin’s eyes widened. “About me? Why?”

“You’ve been acting… I don’t know, strange lately?” Myra said. “Like something’s bothering you, more than just what we’ve talked about. I guess I just wanted to make sure that you’re still okay with giving me time to think.”

Danse sighed. “You have the right to make your own choices. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” she soothed. “But you shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to put you through something that’s going to make you miserable. If you need to go back to the airport without me, then I want you to do that.”

Danse’s heart ached at her words. How could she even dream of him leaving her when she was in trouble, or think that being by her side made him miserable? He knew he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but he had hoped that Myra would have at least realized by now that he was happiest when he was by her side. But he couldn’t tell her that. To admit how he felt, even a little, might cost them both everything. “I’m still your sponsor,” he said finally. “My place is right here.”

Myra’s face fell slightly, but she covered it up with a charming smile so quickly that Danse almost thought he’d imagined it. “As long as that’s what you want,” she said. “The last thing I want to do is to push you away.” She sighed, looking up at the Prydwen as well. “Although I might not have a choice, in the end.”

The Paladin frowned. “What do you mean, Larimer?”

“I really do want to believe that the Brotherhood cares about the people of the Commonwealth,” Myra continued, her eyes tracing the gentle curve of the airship’s bow. “I know that our first priority is protecting people from technology, but...I’m not sure that’s the kind of salvation people are looking for. Are we...is the Brotherhood of Steel really doing what’s in the best interest for the people down here on the ground, Danse?”

Danse thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. He’d admit, his mind had been troubled by similar concerns in the past, especially when the Prydwen was first constructed. He knew the airship was vital to the Brotherhood’s mission, but watching the engineers rip the power core out of Rivet City had alarmed him. In a lot of ways, the old aircraft carrier had been his first real home, and even though the Brotherhood had replaced the power plant with the less efficient model they’d been using on the airship before, the method of seizure had still bothered him. 

Still, he had to believe that the Brotherhood’s mission was noble, that Arthur Maxson really did care about the everyday people under his protection. Though the young Elder’s methods sometimes lacked finesse, Arthur was a good man at heart. Danse knew that better than anyone. Maxson simply couldn’t afford to be sentimental with the eyes of the Council fixated on him constantly. If only he could make Myra understand that as well.

“It all depends on what it means to keep humanity safe from the abuse of technology,” Danse said finally. “Every Elder seems to have his own idea of what that means. Arthur, for instance, believes that we have to understand technology in order to find the aspects of it that are harmful. Since he became Elder, we’ve adapted a great deal of pre-War technology that others would have simply stored away to gather dust. And unlike many other Elders, he insists on trading food and medicine for the technology we acquire, rather than taking it by force.”

“The fact that Maxson’s policies are exceptions to the rule shows an inherent flaw in the system,” Myra countered. “Those rules should be the starting point, not the exception. What’s the point in having all of these advanced systems if everyone isn’t benefiting from them?”

Danse sighed. “Now you’re beginning to sound like Elder Lyons,” he replied. “He was Arthur’s mentor, and an extremely good man. But his idealistic and overly-generous policies weakened the Brotherhood in the East. We almost didn’t survive. If certain outside individuals hadn’t intervened on our behalf...well, we would have lost everything to the Enclave, a ruthless group who sought to destroy everyone living in the Capital Wasteland. So you see, Elder Maxson has had to walk a delicate line between genuinely wanting to help people and having to keep the Brotherhood strong. It’s not an easy path to follow. You, as a leader, should understand that.”

Myra’s brow furrowed. “I suppose. Just...are we really the good guys if we don’t respect people’s freedom?”

The Paladin looked down at her dubiously. “How do you define freedom, Larimer? Where does it stop, and anarchy begin? Look at your Minutemen, for example.” He gestured down at the courtyard below, where Preston was running drills with the newest recruits. “They claim to stand for freedom, but I’ve asked your Lieutenants, and none of them can agree on what exactly freedom means. To Mr. Stern, it means not being under someone else’s thumb. Miss Davis says that it’s being able to do whatever you want. Those are very different concepts.”

“I think it’s the very nature of freedom to be nebulous,” Myra retorted. “It means different things to different people.”

Danse nodded. “That’s a fair assessment. However, I think that there’s a key component missing in the way most people view freedom, and that is responsibility. Being free to self-determine is all well and good, but every individual then is responsible for using that freedom in a way which benefits those around them, or at least doesn’t cause them harm. Raiders claim to also believe in freedom, but they murder people and keep slaves. Freedom without responsibility...that’s the problem. The Brotherhood of Steel does respect freedom. We just also accept that there are limits to how freedom can and should be expressed.”

“But that has its own dangers,” Myra said. “Limiting people’s freedom too much leads to tyranny, and from what I’ve heard, many people already see Elder Maxson as a tyrant. Now, I know him, and I know that isn’t who he is, but I can understand why people believe that.”

“I’m sure Arthur would rather be seen as a tyrant than have the Commonwealth descend even further into anarchy,” the Paladin said cooly.

“Those aren’t the only options!” Myra exclaimed. “That’s why the Minutemen are important. We’re a militia of private citizens. Every person here is here to protect the Commonwealth, but we do it by being part of the Commonwealth first. If Maxson really wants to help, he’s going to need to learn that as well.”

“I’m sure he’d be pleased to discuss this with you, Larimer,” Danse replied. “I know he values your conversations. But what is this really about? You’re still having doubts, aren’t you?”

Myra nodded. “I...I know taking the Oath will keep me safe, but what about my work here with the Minutemen? I’m barely around as it is, but they rely on me all the same. What if they fall apart without a figurehead? The Commonwealth needs the Minutemen, Danse. And I firmly believe that the Brotherhood does, too.”

“I realize that it’s a terrible choice to make,” Danse said, pulling her just a little tighter. “And in the end, it is your choice. I’ll do everything I can to protect you if you decide not to take the Oath.”

“I appreciate that, Danse,” she said softly. “I really do. But I can’t ask you to risk your position for me. It’s all you care about.”

The Paladin’s heart clenched at her words. Yes, his position was important to him. But it certainly wasn’t all he cared about. Couldn’t she see that? “You’re wrong. I care about --”

“General!” cried Preston from below, cutting Danse off. “It’s good to see you up and about! Are you feeling better?”

Myra waved to the Colonel, grinning down at him. “Much, thank you!”

“That’s great news!” the Colonel continued. “Do you think you’re up to lead the Commissioning? We were waiting for you to recover before we handed out the new assignments.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right down!”

Danse frowned as he looked her over. Myra was compensating well, but her skin was still so pale and clammy, her eyes still shrouded in dark bags. Even as she tried to put on a brave face, he could see her fingers trembling. She may be finally a few steps away from death’s door, but she certainly hadn’t left death’s neighborhood. “Are you certain you’re adequately healed for this?” he asked. “You seem exhausted.”

Myra bit her lower lip, looking away from him. “I...I have a responsibility to the Minutemen, Danse. If I’m really going to leave them behind, I have to be there for them while I can be.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he replied. “But if you need my assistance, I can at least get you to the stage.”

Myra chuckled. “I think you just want an excuse to hold me again,” she teased.

Danse could feel his ears burning, and he sighed. “Hardly.”

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t mind it if you did,” she mused. “Just as long as you don’t mind my men giving you a hard time.”

“People have been tormenting me my entire life, Larimer,” Danse said, hoisting her up in his arms. “If you think that is going to deter me from ensuring your safety, you still have quite a lot to learn about me.”

She clung to the handles on the torso of his power armor and leaned backwards before flashing the Paladin a grin that threatened to melt him like plasma fire. “I look forward to learning everything about you, Danse,” she murmured.

His blush deepened, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “If you’re quite finished,” he muttered, “I’d prefer it if you’d remain still. I don’t want to lose my footing on the stairs.”

Myra nodded, tucking herself tightly against his torso. Danse tried not to think about how much better this would feel without his power armor in the way as he carried her down to the courtyard. The past few weeks had led to many moments of closeness between them as he sat by her bedside, helping her eat and listening to her stories of life before the Great War. It was getting harder for him to remain detached, to put his duty as a Brotherhood soldier before his feelings for her. Part of him didn’t mind. It was wonderful just to spend those moments by her side. But at the same time, he knew all too well the dangers of becoming too dependent on another person for his happiness.

Danse’s mind filled with thoughts of Sarah Lyons, the valiant young Sentinel who had been Arthur Maxson’s life. She was the strongest and bravest soldier Danse had ever known, and she had been cut down in battle just months after becoming Elder. There was nothing that anyone could have done to save her, he knew, but her death had been a turning point for him and Arthur alike. It was the first time that either of them had truly realized how easy it was for everything to change in an instant, for even the strongest to fall without any warning. And while her death had sobered the young and optimistic Knight Danse had been, it had nearly destroyed Squire Maxson. Danse couldn’t bear the thought of going through what his friend had, of losing the woman who gave his life more meaning than anything had before.

Myra was like Sarah in all the wrong ways. She had the same impulsivity, the same charisma that made people rally to her, the same destiny-driven fire. But she lacked Sarah’s discipline, her experience. In many ways, Myra was constantly tempting fate by the way she lived and acted. It was a miracle she hadn’t died yet, and every day, Danse feared that she was closing in on the battle that would finally seal her doom.

Danse knew in his heart that he wasn’t strong enough to lose her. The closer they got, the more in love with Myra he found himself, the more terrified he became of her death. How could he endure if she wasn’t there by his side? Losing a best friend in Cutler had been hard enough. Danse couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be to lose someone he loved even more. What if he wasn’t able to protect her? Could he ever forgive himself for failing her? Could he ever forgive her for leaving him behind?

Myra shifted in his arms, clearing her throat so loudly that the Paladin nearly dropped her in shock. “Um, Danse,” she teased softly, “we can go now.”

He realized then that his feet had been frozen at the top of the stairs, and he blushed furiously as he tried to banish his fears from his mind. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, hoping that she wouldn’t ask him what he’d been thinking about. Fortunately, Myra seemed to be in a forgiving mood, as she simply nodded and let it go. Danse carried her carefully down the steps, cradling her in his arms like she was the most precious treasure in the world. To him, after all, she was. 

Once he reached the stage, Danse gently lowered Myra into a chair next to the podium. “Would you like me to stay by your side?” he asked softly.

Myra shook her head. “This is Minutemen business, Danse,” she replied. “I’m not sure it would look right for a Brotherhood Paladin to be assisting me during the ceremony. Preston will help me from here. But after...if you wouldn’t mind meeting me in my room, I’m going to need your help.”

Danse nodded. “I’ll wait for you there, then,” he replied harsher than he intended. “Don’t overexert yourself, Larimer.”

Myra nodded, smiling gently up at him. “I’ll do my best,” she murmured.

It was difficult for Danse to leave her, even knowing that he would see her again soon. He understood why she sent him away, of course. While tensions between the Brotherhood and the Minutemen were mild at the moment, he knew that his presence at the Castle had already caused a bit of a stir in the lower ranks, especially with Quartermaster Shaw. The old woman had been particularly outspoken in objection to Danse’s presence in the fort, and had gained the ear of more of Myra’s men than the Paladin was comfortable with. He wasn’t certain if Myra had heard the rumors or not, but he was certain that she was doing her best to make a clear statement that the Minutemen and the Brotherhood were still separate entities.

Danse eased the door of the General’s quarters open with a heavy sigh. Myra’s fears for the Minutemen were more justified than he’d cared to admit to her. Many of the settlers under Minuteman protection adored Myra, often to the point of worship. She was a symbol of everything the people of the Commonwealth stood for, a mother willing to go to war with the Commonwealth’s greatest enemy in order to save her son. She was a reminder of the past, a voice crying out for a better future. And the people listened to her voice, joining it with their own. If Myra stepped down, would the Minutemen still fight? Without a rallying point, would things return to the way they had been, the Minutemen reduced to little more than a group of feuding lords in charge of their own sectors? It seemed more than likely. In Danse’s experience, people needed a strong leader. Without one, even the best-intentioned movements tended to fall apart.

Danse eased out of his power armor, flopping down on Myra’s bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. For the hundredth time since he’d suggested that Myra take the Oath of Fidelity to the Brotherhood, the Paladin tried to come up with an alternate solution. He knew asking her to commit herself fully to the Brotherhood was the best way to save her life. But at the same time, if everyone else she cared about suffered because of her decision, would Myra ever forgive herself? Was Danse truly looking out for her best interests, or was he merely too terrified of losing her that he’d ask her to sacrifice her happiness in order to save her life? Maybe it was better if she fled, if she abandoned the Brotherhood. Danse would never be able to see her again without being forced to kill her himself, but at least she would be free.

Myra wasn’t like him. She wasn’t a born soldier. She questioned orders, fought for what she believed even when it wasn’t practical. Danse doubted if she’d be able to see the oath as anything more than a heavy chain of servitude. Part of him feared that she would come to hate him in time, should she take the Oath. Was he being selfish, hoping that she would choose to stay by his side?

As his thoughts grew more and more troubled, Danse felt his eyelids grow heavy. Before he realized it, the world around him faded away, his only thoughts of Myra and the cruelty of the fates that guided her journey. He wasn’t certain how much time passed in this manner, but before he knew it, he heard the creaking of the heavy wooden door and a bright, familiar chuckle from the entrance to the room.

“Well, I won’t say that’s an unwelcome sight,” Myra joked as she hobbled into her quarters. “Hell, I’d definitely stay in bed all day if there was always a handsome man keeping it warm for me.”

Danse blushed, sitting up abruptly. “I...er...I’m sorry. I must have been more exhausted than I realized.”

Myra laughed. “Relax, Danse. I’m not here to scold you. I came to pack. Think you could help me?”

Danse frowned. “You’re planning on going somewhere?”

“Well, as long as that offer still stands,” she said, a hint of darkness behind her emerald eyes. “I already told Preston that we’re leaving.”

“In your condition?” the Paladin replied in concern. “I thought we were going to remain at the Castle until you were fully healed.”

“Change of plans,” Myra hissed, clutching her side. “I can’t stay here any longer, not if I want to make a clear decision. It’s not saf...um, I mean, I can’t think clearly when I’m surrounded by people who refuse to see me as myself and not just the General.”

Danse caught her slight wrist gently in his hand. “Larimer, did something happen?”

She shook her head, pulling away from him. “Nothing I didn’t expect.”

The Paladin frowned. “That’s hardly an answer.”

“I…” Myra sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Danse. I just want to go before I do something I’ll regret.”

Danse looked her over carefully. Something had clearly aggravated Myra. He’d rarely seen her this upset. But the Paladin wasn’t the type of man to push her beyond what she was comfortable disclosing. If Myra really didn’t want to talk about it, he’d wait for her to tell him when she was ready. “Very well,” he replied. “But please, lie down. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll pack it for you.”

“Well, for starters, I’m going to need underwear,” she said with a forced laugh. “Top drawer.”

Danse tried not to think too much as he picked a selection of panties from Myra’s dresser. He wasn’t particularly accustomed to handling women’s undergarments, after all. He tried to tell himself that they were just clothes, and simply shoved a few pairs in the bottom of Myra’s pack and moved on. Socks and pants were a little easier to deal with, and by the time it came to shirts, he had no trouble grabbing a few tank tops for her to wear under her flannel.

“I’m going to need fusion cells,” Myra continued, “and let’s make sure to pack Maxson’s notebook. I’d hate for anyone to stumble across it.”

Danse nodded, filling her pack with ammunition. “I’ll bring enough rations for a few days,” he said. “Do you have any particular requests?”

Myra pointed to a box near the top of her shelves. “There’s water and canned goods there. We can hunt along the way if we run out.”

Within minutes, both of their packs were filled. Danse set the bags by the door along with their laser rifles. “Are you certain you wish to leave now?” he asked.

Myra nodded. “It’s for the best. I need to clear my head, and I…” she sighed heavily. “I’m tired of everyone telling me who I’m supposed to be and how I’m supposed to behave. I just need time to be Myra Larimer again. If that makes sense.”

Danse nodded. “I promise, no one will bother you where we’re headed. I won’t force you to make a decision until you’re certain you’re ready.”

“See, that’s why I love you, Danse,” Myra replied. “You’re always looking out for me.”

Danse’s heart raced. She...had she meant to say that? He stared at her, trying to read her face. But as was so often the case, her intentions eluded him. “Well,” he said awkwardly, “I suppose I should take this note to Colonel Garvey then. And I’ll need to inform Lancer-Captain Farfield that we are ready to depart.” He fled the room, trying to catch his breath.

He hadn’t expected to hear those words from her. Regardless of how she’d meant them, just hearing Myra say that she loved him made him come undone. He was hopeless. Worse than hopeless. Ever since he’d put a name to his attachment to Myra, he’d found it difficult to think of much else besides how much he adored her. Danse was prepared to silently carry that torch forever, but if there was even a whisper of a chance that she felt the same…

The Paladin shook his head, trying to focus. No. It didn’t matter if Myra loved him or not. He had to be strong. How could he protect her if he got any more attached to her? Danse couldn’t dare to hope that she cared for him as more than a friend and colleague. Even if she did, he couldn’t risk acting on it. Losing her would hurt far too much. It already would hurt far too much. And besides, she clearly hadn’t meant love in a romantic sense. She meant it platonically. She must have.

Danse met Preston by the radio tower. The Colonel’s face fell as the Paladin handed him the signal grenade and letter. “Can you please send this letter to the Prydwen tomorrow?” Danse asked. “Give us time to be as far away as possible.”

“So you really are leaving,” Preston said with a heavy sigh. “I know what happened really shook the General up, but I was hoping she’d reconsider.”

Danse frowned. “What exactly transpired here? Larimer seemed particularly distraught when she returned to her quarters.”

Preston’s dark brown eyes misted with tears. “It’s...I’m sorry, Danse, but it’s not really my place to tell you everything. Let’s just say that some of the minutemen made some particularly...nasty comments about your relationship. Those men have been disciplined, but I’m not sure what else we can do.”

Danse’s eyes narrowed. He’d suspected as much, but to hear his fears confirmed was another thing entirely. “What did they say?” he growled.

“I...I don’t think it’d do you any good to hear,” Preston replied. “Really, just let it go.”

“If they insulted Larimer,” Danse retorted, “I’m not certain I can just let it go.”

“If you try to do anything about it, you might start a war between our factions,” the Colonel cautioned. “Please, Danse. I know neither of us want that.”

The Paladin sighed. “Your assessment is correct,” he muttered. “But if you care for her, I hope you didn’t hesitate to defend her from slander.”

“I did my best,” Preston replied. “But you know how ideas and rumors can spread.”

Danse nodded. “I’ll call our vertibird and tell them to rendezvous with Larimer and I by the diner. She’s right. We need to leave before the situation escalates. Be careful, Garvey. You’re a good man. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

“Same to you, Danse,” the Colonel replied, offering the Paladin a firm handshake. “Keep her safe, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight this time.”

“You have my word,” Danse said, heading back into the keep.

::::

As the vertibird cut through the Commonwealth sky, Myra’s attitude seemed to perk up a little. She stared in awe at the roofs of the buildings they passed, pointing out old landmarks to Danse. She tried her best to tell him what they looked like before the War, but he had a feeling that words weren’t entirely sufficient to express the wonders of her memories.

“Danse! Look!” she cried. “There’s what’s left of St. Pete’s! That was Nate’s family’s home parish! It used to have the most beautiful stained glass. I’ll bet it’s all gone now. Oh! And over there, that’s the park we...um, that we got engaged in! I can’t believe it’s still there!”

The Paladin leaned over the edge beside her, careful to keep a hand braced against the doorframe. “Do you want to take a closer look?” he asked. “We can land, if you wish. We’re not in any particular hurry.”

Myra shook her head. “I’m not...I’m not sure I’m ready to go back there yet,” she murmured. “Nate’s gone, but that park...I’m not ready to remember it.”

Danse couldn’t say that he understood her hesitation. Some part of him was almost jealous at the implication that she hadn’t entirely moved on yet, but he did his best to respect her past. After all, Myra had possessed a life before that Danse could never fully understand or share with her, and while that bothered him to some degree, he also knew how important those memories were to her. They made her who she was, this magnificent woman that he loved with all his being. How could he begrudge her the past that had created her? “Very well,” he said softly. “But if you change your mind, all you have to do is say so.”

“I appreciate that, Danse,” she said softly, a troubled edge to her voice. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Larimer,” he replied. “But if you really want to repay me, then would you please come away from the edge? I’m worried that you’ll fall, and you have no power armor to protect you.”

Myra chuckled. “Or you could just hold on to me, you know. You wouldn’t let me fall.”

“I…” Danse sighed, wrapping his free arm around her gently but firmly. “I wish you’d just relent and wear armor,” he muttered. “It would cause us both much less trouble in the long run.”

She gripped his arm tightly from beneath. “Yeah, but I kind of like trouble.”

“You certainly do have a way of surrounding yourself with it,” the Paladin replied. “I just hope you don’t come to regret it.”

“Me too,” she whispered, her voice so overpowered by the wing whipping past the open hatch that Danse almost didn’t catch her words. For a long time, neither of them spoke, their eyes trained on the destroyed cityscape beneath them. There was a stark beauty to the Commonwealth from the air, and Danse gladly lost himself to it. It was easier to focus on the buildings beneath them than it was to think too much about the wounded woman wrapped tightly in his embrace, or how incredibly natural holding her was beginning to feel. He didn’t want to think about the future, about what would happen when they returned to the Prydwen and he could no longer hold her like this. How could he ever readjust to the way things were supposed to be, to her being his subordinate and not...whatever she’d become?

After a while, Danse felt Myra’s weight shift against him, and he glanced down in panic to see her slumped over. He cried out in alarm, pulling her away from the edge. She murmured slightly as he laid her down on the vertibird’s passenger seat, brushing her snowy hair out of her pale, cold face. As Danse watched over her, she shifted into a fetal position, her snores filling the cabin. So she was asleep, rather than passed out. Danse smiled in relief. Poor Myra. The pain had kept her awake most nights in the past few weeks, and it seemed like her body had finally had enough. She smiled sleepily as the Paladin gently rolled her onto her back to keep her from reinjuring her ribs, but there was no other indication that she was at all aware of the world around her.

“How much further, Farfield?” The Paladin called to the pilot of their aircraft.

“Not too much longer, sir,” the young man replied. “We should be nearing Diamond City soon, and the coordinates you gave me are just on the other side of it.”

“Outstanding. Let me know when we’re in position.” Danse stood protectively between Myra and the open hatch, his hand ready to catch her at the first sign of danger. There was something so calming about watching her sleep, the peace on her face so rarely seen when she was awake. If he could, Danse would want to burn the image into his memory forever, a reminder of what he was fighting for, what he was sacrificing for. Things could never be the same. He knew that in the deepest part of his soul. But in the end, as long as he could be by her side, he didn’t particularly care. Whatever it took, he would bring her that peace as often as he could.

As the vertibird slowly descended into a sun-warmed field of brown grass, Danse hoisted the two packs onto his back. With a nod of thanks to Farfield, the Paladin pulled the sleeping Knight into his arms and bailed out, hoping not to wake her.

Fortunately, he’d underestimated how completely exhausted she was. As Danse crossed the field towards the skeletal forest to their west, Myra nuzzled tighter against his armor, and he smiled gently down at her. She seemed so small wrapped in his armored arms, her lovely face radiant in the late afternoon sun. It warmed his heart in ways he had never before experienced.

The cabin appeared, a small building of green-painted wood nestled between the trees, and Danse found himself instantly taken with it. This had been quite a find, a mostly intact cabin in the middle of nowhere. He reminded himself to thank Haylen for telling him about the place next time he saw her.

The building's interior was small, a simple kitchen and dining room separated from a sleeping area by a hastily-constructed barricade. He sighed in exasperation at the state of the sleeping area. Only one bed. Well, someone would need to be on watch at all times anyway. At least the mattress wasn’t the most disgusting he’d seen. He tossed a sleeping bag on top of it just to be safe before lowering Myra onto the bed.

She clung desperately to the front of his armor, and he had to pry her hands from it in order to retreat to the kitchen. Her grip was strong, even in her sleep.

“Hey, go check on the baby,” she murmured.

“I will. Don’t worry,” he replied, hoping it was convincing. He’d long since learned to play along when she talked in her sleep.

“You’re the best, Nate,” he heard as she rolled over on her side.

Danse tried to ignore the jealous twinge in his heart as she called him by her late husband’s name. Would they ever be free of Nathaniel Larimer’s ghost? “Sleep well, Myra,” he whispered, leaving the sleeping area as quietly as possible. This wasn’t the time to think about the past. If Danse wanted them to survive, he had to instead plan for the immediate future.

Now, to get their supplies in order. It was going to be a long stay. Hopefully they’d packed enough for the first few days, because he wanted Myra to rest as much as possible before they had to explore the nearby area. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her alone and unattended when he went out on a scouting run, and it would still be a few days before she could reliably follow him. 

Danse carefully placed their preserved rations on the kitchen counter, taking stock of what he’d grabbed from Myra’s quarters. They had four cans of Cram, three of mixed vegetables that no longer grew in the Commonwealth, six boxes of Blamco Mac and Cheese, and two cans of dog food that would do in a pinch. Along with these humble rations were twelve cans of purified water as well as a box of snack cakes and three tubes of potato crisps. It wasn’t much for a long-term food solution, but it would keep the two of them going until they were able to hunt some fresh food.

The Paladin filled one of the cabinets with the provisions before returning to the bedroom to put their clothes away. There was only one dresser, so he put Myra’s clothes in the top drawer and his own in the next one down. Neither of them had packed much, but they had detergent and a steady supply of water from the nearby lake, so it wasn’t hopeless. They could easily stay as long as was necessary for Myra to make up her mind.

As he prepared to leave the room again, Danse caught the sound of weeping from Myra’s slumbering form. He edged closer, unsure of what to do. Should he wake her, or…

When the Paladin drew near, Myra turned to look at him with groggy, tear-stained eyes. She smiled weakly at him, wiping her tears with one hand. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I just...I’m scared, Danse.”

He frowned down at her. “Why are you afraid, Larimer?” he asked softly.

“I...can’t do this, Danse,” she sniffled. “I know what I need to do, what everyone needs me to do, but...I can’t just pretend that I’m alright with putting down my own child.” 

“That’s not…” Danse sighed. “You don’t have to think about that now,” he soothed.

Myra shook her head. “I can’t not think about it. There’s so much blood on my hands already, so much I’ve been willing to do just to find him. It feels like God is playing the worst possible joke on me, and everyone around me is just willing to let it happen!” she wailed.

Danse hated watching her cry. He was never quite sure how to handle it, although he hoped that he’d done a good job thus far. Watching her cry always made him feel so helpless, so incapable of protecting her. How could he defend her when her enemies were attacking her from within? “Pull yourself together, Larimer,” the Paladin said gruffly. “I know it seems like everyone in the Commonwealth is asking the impossible of you. In fact, were you anyone else, I might believe that this task is too much for you. But you are among the strongest, bravest, and most adaptable people I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving with. If anyone can find a way to bring this mission to a satisfactory conclusion, it’s you.”

Myra struggled to sit up, her body wracked in pain from her injuries and compounded by her sobs. “Do you really believe that? Look at me, Danse. I’m not a soldier. I’m a glorified housewife just trying to survive in a world where housewives don’t exist anymore. If Nate were here, maybe things would be different. But I’m not my husband. I never will be.”

Danse shook his head. “No one is asking you to be your husband, Larimer.”

“That’s the problem!” Myra cried. “Nate...he could handle anything. I could barely handle law school, much less life in the Commonwealth. I’m a pathetic burden. I mean, look at you,” she continued, gesturing to the Paladin. “You’re out here with me, practically defying orders, and for what?”

Danse sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here because I want to be,” he said simply. “And you’re wrong. I’ll admit, when we first met, I didn’t think much of you at all. I saw exactly the woman you’ve described to me, a frail, lost, terrified vault dweller that would be dead within the month. But that is not who you are, even if it was who you were. That is not who you’ve become.”

“And who exactly is that, Danse?” Myra retorted, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“You’re someone I can respect,” he continued, “a sister I trust with every bone in my body. You may not have been a soldier, but you sure as hell are one now. Not only that, but I truly believe you have the capacity to be one of the best. I’m honored to be your sponsor, and, if I may, even more honored to be your friend.”

Myra laughed bitterly. “Do you actually believe that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

“We’ve known each other for almost a year now,” Danse replied. “Do I strike you as the sort of man who would say something like that just to make you ‘feel better’?”

She chuckled weakly, her voice as bright and free as a half-forgotten melody. “Fair enough. Thanks, Danse.”

“It’s the truth, Larimer,” the Paladin replied. He’d wanted to cheer her up, it was true, but he’d meant every word. Myra had no idea how important she was, not just to him, but to so many people. It hurt to think that she thought so little of herself.

Myra blushed slightly, her eyes turning abruptly away from him. “Hey, Danse?” she asked.

“Yes?”

Her blush deepened. “You...um, you can call me by my first name, if you want,” Myra sputtered. “You’re the only person I’m this close to who doesn’t, and it’s kind of weird at this point, don’t you think?”

Danse froze, his heart pounding wildly. He wanted to oblige her. Of course he wanted to. But using Myra’s first name was a line he’d only crossed on accident. To deliberately break down that boundary between them was madness. The rules he’d meticulously imposed on their relationship were there to protect them both. Without that disciplined framework, anything could happen. Now, more than ever, Danse couldn’t afford to bend the rules. He shook his head. “That would… I feel that would be inappropriate, given the nature of our working relationship.”

Myra’s bloodshot eyes threatened to overflow again as she flashed him an incredulous look. “Our working relationship? Are you kidding me? Look around you. Do you see any Brotherhood flags? I know you’ll be your ramrod-straight self when we’re at work, and that’s fine. But for God’s sake, Danse, we’re alone out here. No regulations for miles.” She sighed. “Please, just… if we really are friends, you could at least treat me like a human for once, and not just a cog in the Brotherhood machine?”

Danse sighed. There she was again with that damned look in her eyes. Did she how that he could never deny her when she looked at him like that? “Very well, Lari...Myra. If you insist. But only so long as we are off duty,” he added hastily. “The last thing I think either of us wants is for Elder Maxson to accuse us of fraternizing and reassign you to another sponsor. That would be… unfortunate.” 

In spite of himself, Danse realized, her transfer really was the last thing he wanted. He’d asked Maxson to sign the transfer paperwork as a way to stop himself from putting the Brotherhood’s mission at risk, but it hadn’t been what he wanted. He wanted to be by her side as long as he was able.

Myra laughed. “Fair enough. I don’t really want to deal with one of the other Paladins. I mean, Brandis would be okay, but I don’t think he’s ready to take on any subordinates just yet. And given the position I’m in, I’m not sure I need another Paladin breathing down my neck.”

The Paladin frowned, his cheeks burning. “I can assure you, they’re all quite capable soldiers. But I concur. I’d...I’d rather remain your sponsor. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“But that’s for when we get back, ok?” Myra asked. “While we’re here, can we just be Myra and Danse for a while? Or can I use your first name too?”

Danse cleared his throat awkwardly, his gut wrenching at the suggestion. “I would rather you didn’t.”

Myra frowned, confused. “Why not?”

Danse tried his best to think of an excuse. He hadn’t gone by his first name in years. No one used it, nor did he want them to. He hated his name. It reminded him of his past, of fighting for scraps of rancid meat in the filth-ridden streets of the Capital Wasteland. Only Cutler had ever used it, and even he had preferred to call Danse by his first initial, rather than the clunky moniker the young orphan had been saddled with.

He thought of his parents, whose faces he couldn’t even remember. Had they abandoned him willingly, or had they been forced to leave him behind? His memories of them were fuzzy, vague. All he had to cling to was the sound of his mother’s voice, urging him to stay put until she or his father came back for him. He’d waited for days before wandering out into the metro. He’d never found a trace of them, dead or alive. They were simply...gone. Honestly, Danse wasn’t certain how he’d survived, young as he’d been. Perhaps he’d simply been too afraid to die.

“I…” Danse sighed. “It’s part of the past, Myra,” he said finally. “And I would prefer it if it remained that way. I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable with it.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry for pushing you so hard, Danse. I know I’m asking a lot of you, and you’ve already done so much for me.”

“It’s quite all right,” he replied. “Maybe someday I’ll…” he trailed off as Myra’s hand brushed gently against his cheek, his eyes wide in shock at the tender gesture. “What are you doing?”

Myra blushed, withdrawing her hand as if it had been burned. “I’m sorry! I just…” she sighed. “You looked so sad, Danse. I couldn’t help it.”

“I...I need to gather firewood,” the Paladin exclaimed abruptly, retreating from the room. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he fled the cabin. He felt like an idiot for being unable to control his response to her touch. Myra clearly didn’t mean anything by it. She was trying to be a compassionate friend. But he...he wanted more than that. He needed more than that.

“This is going to be a long mission,” Danse mumbled to himself, his stomach contorting into strange shapes. One way or another, he had a horrible feeling that this retreat was going to be the death of him.