7. The Stillness of Waiting

“Easy, now,” Ignatius chided as Paladin Danse struggled to get out of bed. The doctor reached out for his patient, offering the wounded soldier his arm, but Danse waved him off.

“No,” Danse remarked, groaning in pain as he drew himself to his full height. “I need to do this on my own, or my recovery may be delayed. I cannot afford to rely on crutches if we find ourselves in battle. I have to be able to stand on my own before I can use my power armor.”

The doctor sighed. “Fine, but at least use the walking stick for now,” he muttered, handing Danse a length of twisted wood. “If you can get around using just this today, then we can talk about getting you back in armor.”

Danse grimaced in displeasure. “If we were using conventional medicine, I would already be back in fighting form, doctor.”

The bear-like physician shook his head, smiling slightly. “If we were using conventional medicine, Paladin, you would also be fighting one hell of a chem addiction by now. I know my methods are slower, but I refuse to sacrifice your overall health for a quick fix. Surely you understand that.”

“Affirmative,” Danse sighed, accepting the walking stick. “My apologies, doctor. I am merely having difficulty adjusting to my circumstances. I realize that it is not your fault.”

Ignatius eased the bedroom door open, escorting Danse from the room. The Paladin hobbled into the hall. It was slower than he was comfortable with, but he had to admit that it felt good walking on his own. He made his way to the little breakfast nook next to Myra’s kitchen, easing himself down in one of the chairs. He winced as his body bent into a seated position. The pillows that Ignatius had used to ease the Paladin’s transition to sitting early on in his recovery had been removed now, and the hard seat was both uncomfortable and satisfyingly familiar. Things were finally getting back on track, at least.

The doctor set a chipped yellow plate in front of Danse, and the Paladin smiled as the scent of meat and eggs filled his nostrils. One of Marcy Long’s famous double meat omelettes steamed on the plate, a welcome change from gruel.

“It’s high time we started getting you some protein,” Ignatius said. “But, Danse, please take your time. Your stomach isn’t used to solid food any more, and if you eat too fast, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Understood,” Danse said, sitting quietly without touching his meal.

“Um...Danse?” asked Ignatius, “Are you okay?”

Danse stared at the doctor in confusion. “I’m fine. Why?”

“Just...you can eat now. You don’t have to wait for it to cool down like the gruel.”

Danse blushed slightly as he realized what he was doing. He’d gotten so used to eating every day with Myra that he’d instinctively started waiting for her to finish praying before starting his meal. He felt a twinge in his heart when he thought of her. Was she all right? Had she and Deacon found MacCready? Most importantly, when was she coming back? He closed his eyes, bowing his head for a moment. The Paladin wasn’t a particularly religious man, but he hoped that whoever was out there listening wouldn’t care about trivial things like that. If Myra’s god was there, he figured a simple request wouldn’t hurt. “Please,” he whispered under his breath, “please keep Myra safe.” Danse’s blush deepened. He felt so foolish, talking to himself like that. How did Myra do it every day? Even still, he had to admit there was something comforting about directing his intentions somewhere, instead of just worrying. Perhaps that was the real value of such an exercise.

The omelette was buttery and flavorful, and it took most of Danse’s self-control to eat slowly. He wasn’t certain if the dish was really that good or if he’d just been starved for flavor, but he could have sworn that it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. Somehow, he managed to avoid wolfing the entire thing down in a matter of seconds, however. Ignatius rewarded his restraint with an approving smile.

Once breakfast was over, the two men headed for Myra’s backyard, where Renata was already waiting. The girl stood by the half-destroyed picket fence, an overripe tato in her hand. Several similar fruits had already been placed on the remaining fence posts, clear juice and seeds oozing down the once-white planks.  Ren waved at Danse enthusiastically as he hobbled over to her.

“Mr. Danse!” she chirped. “Look! I got the tatos ready!”

“I see that,” Danse replied, gently ruffling the girl’s soft brown hair. “Outstanding work, Renata.”

“And here’s your gun!” she continued, grunting with effort as she handed Danse the heavy laser rifle. He frowned as he took the weapon from her, eyeing it critically.

“Renata,” he said sternly, “did you repaint my weapon?”

The girl nodded, her blue eyes meeting his. “Yeah! It’s a present! Do you like it?”

Danse sighed as he looked over the rifle. It was a bright pastel blue, a sloppy child’s rendering of the Brotherhood of Steel logo shining in sunny yellow on each side of the barrel. It was an absolute abomination, and he groaned inwardly as he thought about how difficult it would be to restore the original paint job.

“Thank you,” he managed, trying not to show her his disappointment. She was just a child, after all, and in spite of his revulsion, he knew that she had meant it as a kind gesture. “I can tell that you worked very hard on it.”

Ren nodded. “Mr. Sturges helped.”

Danse made a mental note to kill Sturges once the mechanic was done refurbishing the replacement T-60 suit for him. Did the minuteman really think he could get away with this? The Paladin sighed, readying his weapon. “Stand back, Renata,” he said, aiming carefully at one of the targets she’d made.

His hands were still unacceptably shaky, he realized with a frown, cursing under his breath. It was bad enough that he’d likely be badly scarred for the rest of his life. But if he couldn’t even shoot straight, what good was he to anyone? How could he fight the Brotherhood’s enemies? How could he protect Myra? He fired at his target, growling as his shot went wide.

“Let me help you,” Ignatius said, walking up behind him. Danse shuddered as the doctor wrapped his arms around him, bracing Danse’s weakened limbs with his own. “Remember,” he continued softly, “you have to be patient with your body, Paladin. It will take a while for your strength to return. You almost died, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Danse frowned as he felt the warmth of the other man’s body against his. It frustrated him that Ignatius didn’t seem to realize how demeaning it was, being treated like a squire learning to shoot for the first time. Still, with the doctor’s help, he managed to aim smoother. Danse fired off another round, this time striking the tato from its perch with a sizzle.

“See?” Ignatius said in his ear. “You’ve still got what it takes, Danse. You just need to give your muscles time to recover.”

“Again,” the Paladin growled, selecting another target.

The doctor chuckled. “Of course. This is an important part of getting you back on your feet, after all.”

One by one, the over-ripe fruits fell from the fence, and with each one slain, Danse’s confidence grew a little. He soon forgot all about Ignatius’ presence, reveling in the feeling of holding a gun again. It would take time, but he would be able to continue his duties unassisted eventually. The worst of it, finally, was over.

::::

Late afternoon found Danse under the large tree in the center of town, a book balanced on his knees. It was one of Myra’s, miraculously preserved in her bedside table. He’d run out of manuals to read by the third day of his recovery, so in boredom and desperation, the Paladin had decided to give Myra’s novel, “The Gates of Destruction,” a try.

He had to admit that he was enjoying the story so far. It wasn’t bad, for fiction. In fact, he rather liked the protagonist, a thief named Elara Jerick. While she was certainly a criminal, Danse had to admit that there was a nobility to her actions, especially as she tried to help the true ruler of her country save the world after she made a promise to his dying father. Her stubbornness and refusal to accept defeat reminded him a little of Myra, he thought. He turned the page, greedily devouring the story. If all books were like this, he admitted to himself, perhaps he had been missing out.

“What’s this?” a familiar voice called, interrupting his reading. “Danse, reading a novel? What has Larimer done to you?”

The Paladin looked up, startled, his eyes meeting amused steely blue. Arthur leaned casually against the tree, watching him. The young Elder was almost unrecognizable without his greatcoat, dressed simply in a pair of brown cargo pants and a worn grey shirt. In all their years together, Danse couldn’t recall ever seeing Maxson out of uniform before. He looked younger, closer to his twenty years than he did normally. Sometimes, it was easy for Danse to forget how young Arthur really was. It was jarring, seeing the Elder without his mantle of command.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe for you to be out in the Commonwealth by yourself! You aren’t even wearing any armor.”

“Quiet!” Maxson hissed. “Unless you want everyone to know I’m here. If you must know, I came to see how your recovery was coming along. From what Knight Larimer told me, it seems like you nearly died.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Danse replied. “But I assure you, I’ll be back to optimal performance soon.”

“That’s excellent news,” the Elder said, reaching into his pack and withdrawing a small package wrapped in striped cloth. “I ran into Scribe Haylen as I was leaving the Prydwen,” he explained, offering the bundle to Danse, “and she insisted that I bring you this.”

Danse chuckled as he unwrapped the package. As he opened the box, the sickly sweet smell of Rhys’ homemade corn and tarberry cakes filled the air. Also included was a short note, which he read quickly.

Sir,

Please get better soon! I know it’s not much, but Rhys and I want you to know we’re thinking of you. Share these with Larimer, if you want. I promise I won’t tell Rhys!

Ad Victoriam!

Haylen

The Paladin picked up one of the lumpy sweets, eyeing it carefully before taking a small bite. It was kind of his old squad to think of him, even if he wished that Rhys would realize that he wasn’t that competent of a chef. The cakes were surprisingly palatable, at least, so he offered one to Maxson.

“Did Knight Rhys bake these?” Arthur asked suspiciously.

Danse nodded. “They’re really not that bad, actually. Maybe he’s learning.”

“Still, I’m afraid I can’t afford the food poisoning right now,” the Elder said, shaking his head. “Come to think of it, neither can you. Perhaps I should take those away for your own safety,” he added, reaching for the box.

The Paladin shook his head, moving the cakes to his other side. “It was a gift, Arthur. I’m not just going to throw them away.”

“Fine, Danse,” the Elder replied. “But don’t make yourself sick.”

Danse nodded, closing the box. “I’m not about to do anything that would impede my recovery. It’s been difficult enough. At least I’m through the worst of it now.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come visit,” Arthur said, something akin to guilt on his face. “I’m sure you realize that I took the first opportunity to come that I could.”

“Affirmative,” the Paladin replied. “I understand how busy you are, Arthur. If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect you to visit me at all. I figured we’d reunite once Larimer and I got back from our next mission.”

“I’ll admit, Danse, I have my doubts about Larimer’s plan for this next mission,” Maxson said gruffly. “Do you really think it’s wise to go charging into the Glowing Sea of all places after a fugitive who may or may not even be there? I can’t help feeling like I’m sending two of my best people on a suicide mission.”

Danse sighed. “If the information that fugitive possessed was any less valuable, I’d agree with you. But the fact remains that Brian Virgil is the first credible lead we’ve found. You and I both know that we have to find the Institute if we’re to have any hope of defeating them. Yes, it’s a risk, but you should know me well enough by now to know that it’s a risk I’ll gladly take if it means that ensuring victory for the Brotherhood.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. “I’ve never doubted your resolve, Danse. I just wish there was another way.”

“As do I, Arthur. But if it meant that we would have a chance to strike at the heart of the Institute, I’d gladly wade through the flames of hell itself.”

“From what I’ve heard, conditions in the Glowing Sea aren’t that far off. Are you certain that you and Larimer are up to the task?” Maxson held up a hand as Danse began to protest. “I’m not questioning your abilities, Danse. I’m only asking because you both are still recovering from serious injuries. If you need me to send another team in your place, I’ve already got a squad on standby.”

Danse shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Once Larimer gets back, we’ll begin preparing for the journey.”

“When she gets back?” Maxson growled, his eyes narrowing. “Larimer assured me that she wasn’t going to leave your side. That’s the whole reason I agreed to her ludicrous plan of having you recover here in Sanctuary, rather than under Cade’s supervision! And you’re telling me she left you here?”

“Arthur, I promise that it wasn’t her intention to leave me behind,” the Paladin retorted. “Her mercenary friend, MacCready, went missing last week. She left to go find him, and understandably, she didn’t ask me to come along. Besides, it’s not as if she left me alone. There’s a perfectly capable doctor looking after me.”

Arthur frowned. “I highly doubt he’s giving you the sort of care Cade could, Danse. Look at you. You can barely…” The Elder’s voice trailed off as he looked over the Paladin with worried eyes. “Are you certain that you’re recovering well? Are you eating enough? I know how you can be when you’re injured.”

Danse smiled gently at his friend. “Arthur. Calm down. Look, I’m…” he groaned as he stood up, leaning on his walking stick, “I’m walking on my own already. Doctor Ignatius assures me that I’ll make a full recovery soon.”

“All the same,” Maxson continued, walking alongside the Paladin as he made his way back towards Myra’s house, “Larimer should not have left you. Wasn’t there anyone else she could have sent to find MacCready?”

Danse shook his head. “That’s not how Myra operates, Arthur. When someone she cares about is in trouble, she brushes everything else aside. She won’t even think about anything else until MacCready’s safe. That’s simply how she is.”

Arthur cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “So it’s Myra now?” he mused.

Danse blushed slightly, clearing his throat. How could he have been so careless? “A slip of the tongue,” he amended. “I’m afraid that I’ve been among civilians too long, Arthur. I’ve gotten used to hearing them use familiar terms with Knight Larimer.”

“Is that all?” Maxson mused. Still, he didn’t pry further, a small mercy which Danse appreciated. “I suppose Larimer at least had the foresight to take backup, correct?”

Danse nodded. “She left with one of her other allies, a civilian named Deacon. I can’t say I’m fond of the man, but everyone I’ve talked to who knows him says he’ll keep her safe. I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue,” he added bitterly. “In my present condition, a twelve-year-old with a slingshot would be better support than I would be.”

Maxson froze just outside Myra’s house, frowning. “Deacon. I’ve heard that name once or twice from Proctor Quinlan...and never in a good context.” He looked at the Paladin, his face stony. “Danse, are you certain that Larimer can still be trusted? The company she keeps... it’s bad enough that she is the General of the Minutemen. If she’s somehow gotten involved in something less benign...”

“Are you questioning Larimer’s loyalty, Arthur?” the Paladin asked, his eyes wide. “I’ll admit that her behavior is...erratic at best, but when has Larimer ever given you any reason to believe she’s disloyal?”

“The better question would be when hasn’t she?” the Elder retorted. “I’m sorry, Danse. As you know, I’m quite fond of Knight Larimer myself. Still, you have to understand that the way she refuses to follow the rules is starting to draw the wrong kind of attention. I don’t want to think that she’s working against us, at least not deliberately. But as Elder, I have to see past my personal feelings. I have to be objective. And Larimer’s behavior is admittedly worrying.”

“Worrying to the point of treachery?” Danse asked. He knew Arthur was right. Many of the fears the Elder mentioned were echoed in his own gut. The Paladin had been cutting Myra a large amount of slack, had been deliberately trying not to face his doubts about her. After all, most of her behavior could be easily explained away as symptoms of her trauma, the actions of a desperate woman trying to regain some semblance of control over her life. But if she wasn’t sincere, if she was working with the Brotherhood’s enemies to take them down from the inside, ignoring her behavior could be catastrophic.

“I’m not certain yet,” Maxson replied. “I sincerely hope I’m wrong. But given the circumstances, the time for Larimer to be ostensibly a free agent might be drawing to a close. We need to get her under control, before someone else does. Perhaps I made a mistake in not asking her to take the Oath when you first brought her to me.”

“Normally, I’d agree,” Danse said. “But what about her commitment to the Minutemen? She’s their leader, Arthur. And from what I saw at the Castle, they need her. If we ask her to be loyal only to those bound to her by Steel, won’t she have to abandon them?”

“It’s a difficult decision Danse,” Maxson said with a heavy sigh. “Trust me, I’ve been agonizing over it ever since she left my office last week. Keeping the Minutemen as allies -- at least until we defeat the Institute -- seems like a wise course of action, and having Larimer continue to lead them would make that alliance easier to weight in our favor. However, such an alliance goes directly against the spirit of the Codex. The Brotherhood of Steel has survived this long because we are cautious and discerning.”

“Which is precisely why severing our ties with the Minutemen at this time would be imprudent,” the Paladin countered. “We should not try to wage a war on multiple fronts, Arthur. Perhaps it is better that we continue to make an exception for Larimer, given her position as General.”

“What good has ever come from making exceptions?” Maxson replied angrily. “Compromise weakens the Brotherhood. Be both saw that under Elder Lyons. At some point, Larimer will have to choose which of the factions in the Commonwealth she’s truly willing to support. You’re her sponsor. It’s your job to make sure that when that time comes, she’s prepared to stand with us.”

The Paladin thought for a moment. Arthur was completely right, as he usually was. Danse was letting his personal concerns outweigh his judgement, he realized. Myra was...important to him. He wanted to do everything he could to protect her, even from the consequences of her own actions. Whether Danse liked it or not, he was too close to the situation to remain objective. “Very well,” the Paladin agreed. “But, Arthur, even if you don’t trust Knight Larimer to make the right decision, will you at least trust me to guide her? As you’ve said, I am her sponsor. Larimer may be a bit of a loose cannon, but she’s hardly a lost cause.”

Maxson nodded. “And she operates better with a loose hand at the reins. I think we both know that,” he said softly. “But we also both know that there’s only so much I can do to protect the two of you if she continues to behave like a mercenary and not a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel. The Council has made that very clear. For all our sakes, Danse, you have got to get her to at least look like she’s following proper procedure.”

The Elder Council. So that was why Arthur was so fixated on Myra's activities all of a sudden. Danse sighed heavily. The governing body of the Brotherhood had never exactly operated with a light touch when it came to influencing Arthur’s choices. While most of the Elders who made up the Council were given free reign over their chapters, Arthur was still treated as a child playing at war by most of them, even as they revered him for his bloodline. As the last Maxson, the seat of High Elder should be Arthur’s by right, but there were many members of the Council who would love to see the young Elder fall so they could claim the title. If Arthur’s opponents considered the Elder’s leniency towards Myra to be a sign of weakness, they could very easily force his hand.

“I’ll do everything I can, Arthur,” Danse replied. “I promise, I’ll never let you down.”

The young Elder nodded. “I know you will, Danse. You’ve always given me your best. That’s why I’ve come to rely on you so much. Now, I’d better get back to the Prydwen before I’m missed. I…” The younger man trailed off as his eyes met Danse’s again. There was a nervous energy behind those steely eyes that Danse had only rarely seen. It was almost fear, but fear of what Danse couldn’t say. After all, there was nothing in the world that frightened Elder Maxson, and only a few things that scared Arthur, the man behind the mantle.

Danse almost asked him what was bothering him, but decided against it. It was better to let Arthur preserve his dignity. Eventually, Maxson cleared his throat, the nervousness fading from his eyes. “I expect a full report when you and Larimer return from the Glowing Sea,” the Elder said finally, his voice a little too regimented.

“Affirmative,” Danse replied. “Whatever we find, you’ll be the first one to know about it.”

Maxson nodded simply before heading for the town gate, leaving Danse staring down the road after him until long after he vanished from sight beyond the wall.

::::

“I’m home!” Myra called, walking through the front door of her house, grinning brightly as she dropped her pack next to the door.

Danse beamed at her from the couch as she sat down next to him, curling her long legs beneath her. “Welcome home,” he said softly. “How was your trip? Did you find MacCready?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He’s a little scraped up, but he’ll be fine. Deacon’s with him now. But I don’t want to talk about Mac right now, Danse. I want to talk about you. Are you feeling better?”

Danse thought for a moment, patting at his bandaged torso before looking up at her, surprised. “I seem to no longer be in any pain,” he replied. “That’s quite unusual.”

Myra’s smile returned, soft and warm. “I’m so happy to hear it. I was really worried about you while I was away, you know?”

“You were?” he asked.

She nodded, scooting closer to him on the couch. “Of course I was. What, did you really think I’d forget about you or something? You know there’s no way I’d ever do that.”

Danse frowned. She was acting strangely. “Larimer, are you inebriated?”

She shook her head, pressing a finger to his lips. “Shh. Call me Myra, ok? I hate it when you call me Larimer. That’s not even my name. It’s Nate’s, and he’s dead.”

“I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

Myra sighed. “Who cares? Damn, it , Danse, you’re always so worried about what’s right that you can’t see what’s right in front of you, can you? Just once, please, just put all that aside and do what you want to do.”

“But the rules exist for a reason, Larimer,” Danse retorted. “Rules keep us safe. I can’t just ignore them. I…” he sighed, gently brushing a strand of pure white hair from her face. “I don’t know who I would be without them.”

Myra flipped one of her legs over his and eased herself into his lap, pinning him to the couch. She laughed quietly as he gazed up at her in shock. “Let’s meet that version of you together.”

Before he had a chance to question what was happening, her lips were on his, cool and hungry as her arms snaked around the back of his head. It was so hard to think as her body pressed against his, her lips intoxicating as they parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss. With a groan of frustration and desire, he relented, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her even closer.

“That’s it,” she gasped against his lips, grinding her body against him. “Finally, you’re being honest.”

“I’m always honest,” he growled. “You’re the one who makes everything so damn difficult.”

She gasped as he nibbled at her neck, teasing the sensitive flesh with his teeth. “You...ah...have got to be kidding me,” she replied. “You can’t even admit that you want this, can you? Not to me, not to Maxson...hell, you can’t even admit it to yourself.”

Danse moaned as her hands played across his broad chest, struggling to regain control. “I...I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he said.

Myra nodded. “Of course you are. That’s the only time you’d ever allow anything like this to happen, isn’t it?”

“I shouldn’t even be allowing this now,” he murmured as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s not right, thinking about you like this. What would the real Myra say if she knew?”

She laughed. “I think she might surprise you, Danse. If you ever bothered to find out. But you and I both know that you haven’t got the balls.”

He frowned, pushing dream-Myra off of his lap as she squeaked in protest. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying,” he muttered. “I’m no coward.”

“No,” a deeper voice replied. Cutler sat on the couch where Myra had been, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. “You aren’t a coward, are you, T? You just hide behind your regulations and let the people who love you pay the price. You didn’t even question it when you killed me, did you, buddy?”

“I had no choice!” Danse exclaimed. He knew he wasn’t going to win this argument. He and Cutler had been having it almost every night since the day he’d pulled the trigger. “What that mutant filth did to you...I had no choice!”

“There’s always a choice, T,” his friend replied. “But you’ve always taken the easy way out, ever since you joined the Brotherhood. You told me you were glad to finally have a family. But I was your family, too. And in the end, you chose regulations over me. Don’t make the same mistake with her.”

::::

Danse woke in a cold sweat, his abdomen throbbing. He reached out for the bell Ignatius had placed by his bedside, ringing it with trembling hands. In a matter of moments, the doctor appeared, a glass full of murky solution in his hand.

“I heard you cry out, Paladin,” Ignatius said calmly, helping Danse sit up, “so I already had this waiting.” He pressed the rim of the class to Danse’s lips, and the Paladin grimaced and sputtered as the bitter herbal medicine touched his tongue. “Easy,” Ignatius continued. “You don’t want to waste any. I’m running low on some of these herbs. Soon, I won’t be able to make any more medicine and I’ll have to find some alternatives.”

Danse nodded, draining the glass carefully. “Thank you, doctor.”

The large man sighed, sitting on the edge of Myra’s bed with a concerned frown. “Paladin, this isn’t just the pain, is it? Something’s bothering you, I can tell. If you need to talk…”

Danse shook his head. “I’m doing better, now that I’m awake. Thank you for your concern, but I can handle a few unpleasant dreams.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” the doctor smiled gently at him. “Try to get some more rest, won’t you? The General will be pissed if you don’t, and I think she’s much more likely to take it out on me than on her favorite companion.”

“I somehow doubt I’m her favorite,” Danse replied, blushing. “But I’ll do as you ask. Good night, Ignatius.”

“Good night, Danse,” the doctor replied. “If you need anything else…”

“I’ll ring the bell,” Danse finished with a slight smile. Ignatius returned his smile, taking the empty glass with him as he departed. The Paladin lay back down with a low moan, trying to at least rest his eyes. But every time he closed them, the image of Cutler’s jeering face returned, tormenting him. Danse sighed. It was going to be another long night.