2. The Best Intentions

Paladin Danse had hardly left his quarters since he’d learned about Myra’s association with the Railroad. There wasn’t much cause for him to do so, anyway. Until Myra returned with information about the Institute, the Paladin was effectively on standby. But it wasn’t boredom that confined Danse to his small room on the main deck of the Prydwen . It was a deep, twisting ache that seemed to grow with every waking hour, like an old wound that acted up when the weather changed for the worse. The thought that Myra had betrayed him, had betrayed everything he stood for, was unbearable. No amount of busy work could distract him from the gnawing, festering disquiet in his soul.

He barely ate, subsisting on the limited rations he’d squirreled away in his room in case of emergencies. He barely slept, his dreams haunted by visions of Myra, her mouth twisted into a cruel grimace as she pointed Righteous Authority at the Paladin’s head, Deacon urging her to pull the trigger. There was no escape from the torment.

Maxson had checked in on him regularly at first, trying to break the Paladin from his funk, but the Elder had eventually relented and gave him space. No one else bothered to try. Thus, when there was a gentle but persistent knocking on Danse’s door, he almost thought he was imagining it. “Come in,” he said gruffly, and the door swung open to reveal an unexpected visitor.

Paladin Brandis stepped lightly into the room, closing the door behind him. The old man had recovered quite well since his return to the Prydwen . His skeletal frame had fleshed out some, and a healthy pink glow had returned to his pallid cheeks. Even his green eyes, once haunted and half-crazed, had regained some of their kind, wise light that Danse remembered from long ago. “How are you holding up, kid?” Brandis asked, easing into Danse’s desk chair. He pulled a box of snack cakes from his satchel, tearing them open and tossing one to the younger Paladin. “Haven’t seen you around much. You been avoiding me?”

Danse shook his head, holding the packaged treat unopened in his large hands. “Not particularly,” he muttered. “I suppose it’d be more accurate to say that I’m just keeping to myself.”

Brandis nodded grimly. “It’s a terrible thing, Danse, losing your subordinates. Trust me, I know. But it’s too soon to give up hope on our Angel. Knight Larimer’s beaten the odds more than once. She’ll pull through. I really do believe that.”

“As do I,” Danse replied. “That isn’t what has me concerned.”

Brandis sighed as he unwrapped a cake of his own. “Well, what is it, then?” he asked between bites. “Because you look like I did when Larimer found me, and that’s not a good look on someone as young as you.”

Danse frowned. “I’m not certain you’d understand if I told you,” he said. “Or if you’d agree with my decision.”

“Well, hell, kid,” Brandis muttered. “You’re the Senior Paladin here. I’m not exactly at a position in the Chain to question your decisions. But sitting in here cooped up with your demons isn’t helping. You need to talk. Might as well talk to me. I’m old. I’ll probably forget whatever you tell me by the end of the day.”

The younger Paladin sighed heavily. “I suppose you have a point. It concerns Larimer. But I can’t risk anyone finding out about what I’ve learned, not before she has a chance to explain herself. You’re a good man, Brandis, but…”

The older man smiled gently at Danse. “But you’re worried that I’ll tell someone about whatever it is that’s bothering you. I can’t say that I blame you. The trouble with the Brotherhood being like a family is that it’s hard to keep secrets. It’s wise of you to keep whatever you’ve uncovered close to your chest.” Brandis leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on Danse’s desk with a small sigh. “But, that being said, I owe our Angel my life, Danse. You can trust that I take that sort of debt seriously. I’d follow that girl into the gates of Hell if she needed me to, sure as you would. So if you need me to keep my mouth shut, you’d best believe that it’s locked tighter than Ingram’s metal ass.”

Danse thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew that Brandis adored Myra, the woman who had given him his life back. Still, it was risky bringing another person into the circle of people who knew her secret, even someone as sincere as Brandis. Was the weight of Danse’s concern heavy enough that he really needed another shoulder to bear it? Or was Myra’s potential treason too great of a transgression even for the old man?

In the end, Danse’s need for a sounding board won out, and he relented. “I believe you, Brandis. But what I’m about to tell you becomes public knowledge, you are the only one I’ll have to blame.”

“That’s fair,” Brandis replied. “So what is it that’s gotten the Brotherhood’s most unflappable Paladin worked up like a Squire on his first mission?”

“I’ve recently acquired some information about Larimer’s...activities that could be a major liability,” Danse explained. “If anyone finds out the specifics, she would be severely punished. As the Senior Paladin of this outfit as well as Larimer’s sponsor, I have an obligation to report my suspicions to Elder Maxson immediately.”

“But something’s stopping you, right?” Brandis asked.

“I...I don’t know,” Danse groaned. “I’ve never neglected my duties. I’ve always stood up for the Codex, for order. The fact that I’ve even waited this long… I don’t know what to do, Brandis. What if she’s betrayed us, and my inaction leads to disaster?”

“What if you’re wrong, and she’s still loyal?” Brandis asked with a soft sigh. “Damn, Danse, I don’t envy you. That’s a difficult judgement to make. But, if you don’t mind taking some advice from an old man’s intuition, perhaps you should trust Larimer.”

“How can you say that?” Danse retorted. “You don’t even know what she’s done!”

“And you do?” Brandis countered. “I know you, Danse. I’ve known you since you were an Initiate fresh from the Rivet City gutter, barely able to spell your own name, let alone recite the Codex. If you had conclusive evidence that our Angel was a devil in disguise, you wouldn’t hesitate to unmask her. We both know that Larimer’s prone to doing things in her own way, and sometimes that means that she walks a grayer path than we can follow. But that don’t make her a traitor any more than it makes her a radroach in a human suit. You trust her. I can see it in your eyes. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re right to. Our Angel’s one of the good ones. Hell, maybe even the best.”

“Even if she’s working with the Railroad?” Danse asked, his voice trembling.

“The Railroad?” Brandis replied with a catch to his voice. “Are you certain?”

Danse nodded. “As certain as I can be without further proof. Now, do you understand the stakes? I read your report, Brandis.What happened to your squad, the ambush… Would you still stand by Larimer, if she was a Railroad agent?”

Brandis reflected for a moment, his green eyes misty, distant. “I lost three good men in that ambush,” he murmured. “We hadn’t done anything to provoke that sort of attack. Hell, we hadn’t even begun our survey yet. We weren’t threatening the Railroad or their interests. We were just too close for their comfort, I suppose.”

“And Larimer may be working for that same organization,” Danse pressed. “She may have even been sent by the Railroad to infiltrate our ranks. How can either of us stand by her when we can’t even trust her?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Brandis retorted. “I trust her. Larimer saved my life, gave me my purpose back. Even if she was involved in the Railroad, I don’t think she’d agree to hurt us. That’s not the woman I know. If she’s involved with those nutcases, she has to have a good reason.”

“I hope your assessment is accurate,” the younger Paladin sighed. “Because I’ll be perfectly honest, the thought of Larimer being the enemy is one I’d rather live without.”

“Agreed,” Brandis said. “I certainly understand now why you’d keep that information to yourself, Danse. If word got out, I doubt our Angel would even get a trial.”

Danse nodded. “Banishment would be the humane option. More likely, she’d be thrown from the foredeck.” His voice trembled. “I’ll be honest with you, Brandis, I don’t know what I’d do if that were to occur. I...I care for her too much.”

Brandis smiled gently at the younger man. “I can’t recall seeing you this concerned for anyone since Knight Cutler,” he mused. “It’s good to see.”

Danse chuckled bitterly. “Not that it matters, if she really is a traitor. No matter how I feel about her, I have a duty to uphold. If I have to choose between her and the Brotherhood...how could I make such a choice?”

“Well, I guess the first step is finding out if your suspicions are true or not,” Brandis replied. “You need to have a talk with our Angel, find out her side of the story.”

“I don’t even know where she is,” Danse retorted. “Hell, I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“I guess it’s your lucky day,” Brandis said with a faint smile. He pulled a sealed letter out from his satchel, tossing it down on the desk. “This came for you this morning. The Lancer who delivered it had quite the story to tell. Apparently, the Minutemen got their mitts on one of our signal grenades.” Danse’s eyes widened in shock, and Brandis laughed. “Now how do you think they got one of those?”

Danse grabbed for the envelope, turning it over in his hands. The writing didn’t match Myra’s delicate cursive. His name was emblazoned on the envelope in blocky print letters instead. If Myra hadn’t sent it, then who had? He tore the paper open, his eyes narrowing as he read the note.

Paladin Danse,

General Larimer made it to the Castle, no thanks to you. She’s hurt. Bad. We’ve got her as stabilized and as comfortable as we can, but there’s not much we can do but give it time. I thought you’d want to know. Please come if you can. It would put the General’s mind at ease, whether she admits it or not.

I’ll be expecting you by vertibird in the next few days. Don’t wait too long. I can’t guarantee that she’ll recover.

- Col. Preston Garvey,

Commonwealth Minutemen

“Damn it!” Danse growled, throwing supplies in his pack as quickly as possible. This couldn’t be happening. Myra wasn’t even back from the Institute yet. She couldn’t be. If she’d come back, she would have checked in with him right away, wouldn’t she have?

“What’s wrong?” Brandis asked.

“Larimer’s in trouble,” Danse replied. “I have to go.”

Brandis nodded. “Well, then, sounds like you’ve made up your mind after all, kid. Good luck. Just don’t forget to tell Elder Maxson where you’re going. The last thing you need right now is suspicion cast on you as well.”

Danse frowned. “Of course. Thank you, Brandis.”

“Any time, Danse,” the older man replied with a thin smile. He stood, walking deliberately for the door. “If you do get a chance to see her, tell our Angel hello for me.”

“I will,” the younger Paladin replied. “I sincerely hope you’re right about her.”

“So do I,” Brandis murmured, the metal door clanging shut behind him.

Danse continued packing as quickly as he could. He had no way of knowing how much trouble Myra was in, but for Preston to write him...her injuries must have been severe. In spite of how well he’d recovered in their care, the Paladin sincerely doubted that the Minutemen had the capability to tend to anything too serious. Their doctor didn’t even believe in stimpacks. He briefly contemplated requisitioning some supplies from Cade, but the Knight-Captain would ask questions, and questions had a way of getting back to members of staff that Danse would rather not deal with until he knew for certain how he was going to handle things with Myra. So instead, he grabbed a few stims from his personal supply, as well as clean bandages and water in case the Castle had run low.

He hesitated for a moment before packing his chessboard and pieces. How long had it been since he and Myra had last played? Would she even want to? Was she even physically strong enough to play? Danse sighed, putting the set in his bag anyway. Knowing Myra, she was probably bored out of her mind at the Castle. If nothing else, she’d appreciate the gesture.

Once his pack was full, Danse climbed back into his power armor, then turned out the lights in his room and made for Maxson’s quarters. The Paladin knocked insistently on the door, his heart in his throat. What if Arthur refused to let him leave? Or what if Quinlan had already gotten to him, had already poisoned him against Myra before Danse had a chance to get her side of the story?

“Come in,” Arthur’s gruff voice resounded from beyond the door. When Danse opened it, he was greeted with the familiar sight of his friend and leader typing furiously on his terminal. Maxson raised a hand, waving it idly as he continued typing with the other. “Leave it on the counter,” he said. “I’ll eat when I’m finished.”

Danse cleared his throat. “Hard at work, Arthur?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Maxson’s shoulders tensed. The young Elder turned in his desk chair, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of his oldest friend.

“I’ll admit,” Maxson said as he stood to greet the Paladin, “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Danse. Are you feeling any better?”

Danse nodded. “I must apologize for being so negligent in my duties,” he said softly. “I had quite a lot on my mind.”

“So it would seem,” Arthur replied. He eyed the pack at Danse’s side. “Something tells me this isn’t a social call. Are you planning on going somewhere?”

“Larimer’s at the Minuteman headquarters. I haven’t gotten too many details, but it seems as though she’s sustained some significant injuries. Colonel Garvey urged me to come at once, as long as you find that acceptable.”

“She’s back?” Maxson asked, his piercing steely eyes trained on Danse. “You’re certain of this?”

The Paladin nodded. “I’ve never known Preston to lie, Arthur. He may not be a member of the Brotherhood, but he does live by a code. If he says that Larimer is gravely injured, she must be.”

The Elder frowned. “Why would she have gone to the Castle, instead of coming back to the Airport? I gave her explicit orders to report to me as soon as she returned from the Institute.”

“There are any number of reasons,” Danse replied. “Perhaps her return trip sent her to the wrong location. Maybe she was wounded on the way and stopped there for help. I don’t know for certain, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going to go retrieve her. Assuming I have permission.”

“Of course, Danse,” Maxson replied. “Recovering Larimer is an extremely important mission. If she really is back, she’s the only person we know who’s managed to infiltrate the Institute. We have to debrief her as soon as possible. But before you go,” he continued, “I need to ask you a small favor.” The Elder stalked over to his footlocker, digging through the box with a troubled expression on his scarred face. “Where did I...ah! Here it is.” He pulled a small package wrapped in red cloth out of storage, handing it to Danse. “I wanted to give this to Larimer when she came back, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking it to her instead.”

“What is it?” Danse asked, weighing the package in his hands.

Maxson sighed. “If you must know, it’s a collection of short stories I’ve been working on when I have the time. Larimer asked if she could read them, and perhaps they’ll give her something to do while she recovers.”

Danse smiled slightly. Arthur had always had a love for writing, ever since he was young. There had been many times over the years when Danse had caught him with a pencap in his mouth when Maxson thought that no one was watching. Since his promotion to Elder, such sightings had grown increasingly rare, so it was good to know that Arthur still found time for his notebooks. The Paladin didn’t think that anyone else even knew about Maxson’s secret hobby, and even Danse had never read any of what his friend had written. The Elder guarded his notebooks carefully. Maxson must have trusted Myra a great deal to be willing to share his stories with her.

Danse’s heart ached once more as he thought about what he’d learned of Myra’s associations. What if she really had betrayed the Brotherhood? Maxson had very few people who he was close to, fewer still that he really trusted. Danse could count the members of Maxson’s inner circle on one hand. Given the number of people both outside of and within the Brotherhood who wanted him out of the picture, the young Elder had good reason to be suspicious.

Still, somehow Myra had joined the ranks of Arthur’s trusted few. But if she turned her back on the Brotherhood, how would Maxson handle the betrayal? Would he ever trust someone again? Somehow, Danse doubted it. It would be nearly as devastating as Danse himself betraying the Elder. At least that was an outcome that was unfathomable to contemplate, or had been until Myra had entered the picture. If Danse was forced to choose between his best friend and Myra, he still wasn’t certain what he would do. He was loyal to a fault, but if his loyalties were divided...it was better not to think on such things.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Danse said simply. “If there’s nothing else…”

“No,” Arthur replied. “By all means, go. Bring her home.”

The Elder didn’t have to tell Danse twice. In a flash, he was out the door, heading for the flight deck. He could only hope that Myra was still alive. After that, then he could worry about who she was really working for...and what the implications of her true allegiances would be.

::::

It was a short but rough journey from the airport to the Castle, and Danse was extraordinarily grateful when he felt solid ground beneath his feet again. He loved flying, but given the circumstances, he couldn’t wait for the trip to end. He barely acknowledged the young raven-haired minuteman at the gates when she let him in. His mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of Myra that it was hard to focus on anything else...that was until he stepped inside the old fortress.

The Paladin glanced around the Castle courtyard, his eyes wide in astonishment. The fort was no longer the seaweed-encrusted ruin it had been when he’d last visited. In the months since, the Minutemen had made significant improvements, crafting fortifications and gun placements that the Brotherhood would be jealous of. He noted with some concern the long iron barrels of what looked like artillery being polished and prepped near the radio tower. What did the Minutemen need such heavy ordinance for?

Danse glanced up at the sky, the Prydwen anchored to the zeppelin tower of the old airport clearly within view, and his stomach twisted slightly. With that kind of firepower, the Minutemen could shoot the great airship down easily. No longer were they a group that could be ignored. If Myra really was an enemy of the Brotherhood, the strength of her militia could prove to be a far greater threat than anyone had believed.

Preston strode up to greet him, a grim smile on his face. “I’m glad to see that the gate guard didn’t give you any trouble,” he said cordially. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Where’s Larimer?” Danse asked bluntly. “Your letter implied that she was in peril.”

“She’s through the worst of it, thank goodness,” Preston replied. “But as it is, she’s got a few broken ribs and a pretty nasty concussion. And that’s just what we were able to diagnose. She’s on bed rest until Ignatius is satisfied that there’s no worse damage.”

The Paladin frowned, his eyes heavy with concern. “Do you know what caused her injuries?”

Preston nodded solemnly. “She got in a fight with some Super Mutants, and one of them threw her against the Castle wall. If she’d been wearing armor, she might have been all right, but as it was…”

Danse’s eyes narrowed. “She wasn’t wearing any armor?” he cried in alarm.

Preston shook his head. “Apparently she and Deacon had been...um…” he paused, his eyes widening as if he just realized who he was talking to. “Anyway, she wasn’t wearing armor for whatever reason,” the Colonel hastily amended. “Just a nice dress.”

Danse scowled. So Deacon was involved in this situation, because of course he was. Instead of checking in with the Brotherhood, had Myra gone on a Railroad operation? The Paladin didn’t want to believe it, even though the evidence was staring him in the face. How long ago had Myra returned from the Institute? How much information had she given to the Railroad? He felt a cold anger surge through him, tempered only by a great deal of sorrow. Was Myra lost to him after all? Had she ever been loyal?

The Paladin cleared his throat, tamping down his emotions. He didn’t have time for speculation. Today, he only had time for the truth. “May I see her?” he asked gruffly.

“Of course,” the Colonel replied, leading him into the keep. They stopped at the end of a long stony corridor before a set of heavy wooden doors. “This is the General’s Quarters,” Preston said. “Please be careful not to get her too worked up. We still haven’t ruled out internal bleeding.”

Danse nodded. “I’ll certainly make an attempt,” he replied, easing the door open.

The room was a little bit bigger than Danse’s own quarters on the Prydwen , all gray stone and concrete instead of cold steel. It was well-furnished and very Myra, he noted with a slight smile. A large Minuteman flag hung on one wall, its slate blue softening the stark stone. Several of the other walls had been adorned with tattered cloth tapestries decorated with what seemed to be the beginning of a couple different art projects. To the left of the door was a large desk, overflowing with maps and books and other documents. Next to this stood a large set of shelves, filled with strange trinkets and jars of what looked like various pigments, as well as a selection of knives and smaller sidearms placed haphazardly throughout. Righteous Authority , Danse’s treasured laser rifle that he’d gifted to her, leaned against the wall next to the shelf, faint bloodstains darkening the barrel. Beyond was a battered wooden table and a set of four mismatched chairs, a threadbare red tablecloth covering the flat surface. Finally, there was a large double bed, piled high with pillows. There, looking up at him with wide and conflicted eyes, was Myra.

She seemed paler even than she normally was, her skin almost like translucent wax against the soft blue sheets. As Danse approached her bedside, she lifted a hand shakily towards him. “You’re not a dream, right?” she asked hoarsely.

Danse shook his head. “No, Larimer. I’m here.”

She smiled gently at him. “It’s good to see you, Danse,” she murmured, “but what are you doing here?”

“Preston sent me a message,” he replied. “He told me you’d sustained serious injuries, and that I should come as soon as I could. So I did. Are you recovering well?”

She nodded. “Preston. That sly bastard. Who would have thought? Still, it’s...it’s really good to see you.”

He took her trembling hand in his armored one, squeezing it as gently as he could. In spite of his doubts, in spite of his worry, it was wonderful to just be near her again, to feel her hand cupped in his. It almost made him forget everything he had to ask, all the things he needed to know, all the horrible suspicions that had clouded his mind. Wasn’t it enough that she was here, by his side again?

For the first time since he’d joined the Brotherhood, Danse found himself wishing that he hadn’t become a Paladin. If only he and Myra had met some other way, in some other circumstances. Allegiances wouldn’t matter if they were both civilians. None of this would matter. They could just be like the thousands of others struggling to survive in this cruel world, working side by side to build a life for themselves. Things would be so much simpler, if only that were the case.

But unfortunately, such speculation was wasted. Their circumstances were what they were, and their lives were not their own to spend on each other. He belonged heart and soul to the Brotherhood of Steel, and Myra...well, she had always been a complication. Now more than ever.

“It’s good to see you too, Larimer,” he said softly before releasing her hand and reaching into his pack. “I have a gift from Elder Maxson,” he continued, handing her the package.

She unwrapped the parcel, her hands shaking with effort. As the cover of the worn composition notebook was revealed, she chuckled softly. “Of course. I’ll have to thank him personally when we get back to the Prydwen . Whenever that is,” she added with a groan of pain.

“Just be kind if it’s not well-written,” Danse replied. “As far as I know, he’s never let anyone read his notebooks before.” A cold shard of jealousy stabbed at him, but he wasn’t sure where it was directed. Was he jealous of Myra for getting a chance to see inside Arthur’s well-guarded inner sanctum, or was he jealous of Arthur for how close he’d gotten to Myra? Perhaps it was a bit of both, he thought. Either way, it was distracting and hardly worth worrying about. There were far worse things on his mind than Myra’s relationship with the Elder.

“I promise I’ll be tactful if it’s awful,” Myra said, setting the notebook on her end table. “So, did you bring me anything else fun, or just your handsome self?”

Danse blushed, furious with himself for reacting so strongly to her casual flirtation. “I…” he cleared his throat. This was hardly the time. He needed answers. “How long have you been back in the Commonwealth?” he asked.

Myra sighed, as if she too could feel the change in the wind. “I’ll take that as a no,” she replied. “It’s been a few weeks. I meant to come back right away, but…” She trailed off, eyeing the door.

Danse walked back to the entrance of the room. He pulled the door of the General’s quarters closed with a heavy thud before turning back to Myra. “Larimer, I think you owe me an explanation,” he growled. “And given the danger you’ve put both of us in, it had better be one hell of an explanation.”

“What are you talking about, Danse?” Myra asked, her eyes wide.

“I believe you’re already aware of what I’m talking about...Whisper,” Danse said, nearly spitting out the last word.

Myra’s face paled even further, and she struggled to sit up in her bed. “I...how long have you known?” she gasped in pain as she fought the sheets that confined her.

Danse felt the last delicate shard of hope shatter inside him. He knew it was a long shot, but he really wanted to believe that Quinlan’s information hadn’t really been implicating Myra, that it was all just a horrible misunderstanding. “So it’s true,” Danse snarled. “You are a member of the Railroad after all.” The Paladin glared at her. “After all we’ve done for you, everything I’ve...the Brotherhood has offered you, you joined the damned Railroad? You do understand who they are, don’t you? What they stand for?”

“They just want synths to be treated as persons,” Myra said defiantly. “I know the Brotherhood doesn’t believe that synths are human. But Danse, what if the Brotherhood’s wrong about gen-3 synths? What if they really are as human as you or me?”

“That’s ludicrous!” Danse retorted, pacing anxiously. “Synths are machines. They are manufactured. Their very existence is a testament to technology going too far yet again, to human hubris destroying itself. Do you really want to live through another disaster like the one that decimated your world? Because if you let those abominations live, Larimer, that could well be the result.”

“I understand the Brotherhood’s concerns,” Myra continued. “And I’m not asking you to agree with me, Danse. I’m just asking you to keep an open mind. If it is, in fact, possible that gen-3 synths are people, then we have an obligation to help them, just as much as we have an obligation to help other humans who need us.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” the Paladin asked. “Synths aren’t born. They don’t die. They are manufactured, and they shut down. That is a fairly clear distinction. They do not have souls. How can they? They are fabricated.”

“How would you know?” Myra exclaimed, her eyes pleading with him to hear her out. “Danse, how would you know if they have souls? Have you discovered some way to find the soul that I don’t know about?”

“No,” he replied cautiously, his clanking strides coming to a stop.

Myra nodded. “Exactly! There’s no way to be certain if they are ensouled or not. So isn’t it possible that an artificial being with intelligence and free will might possess a soul? I mean, how would you know, one way or the other?”

He thought for a moment. “I suppose it is possible,” Danse conceded. “But that’s hardly the point.”

Myra shook her head. “No, it’s exactly the point. If it’s possible that they have souls, that they are, in fact, alive, then I believe that gen-3 synths have a right to live, just as much as any natural-born person. Even if you disagree with me on that, Danse, you have to acknowledge that it is wiser to err on the side of caution. Do you really want to be responsible for genocide?”

“Larimer, listen to me!” Danse growled. “Of course I don’t want to commit genocide. But your Railroad friends are almost at that level already! Do you know how many people they’ve killed over the years in order to save an insignificant number of synths?”

Myra frowned. “The Railroad doesn’t kill people, Danse. Not unless they’re threatened.”

Danse shook his head, pulling a fat stack of files from his pack and handing them to her. “That’s incorrect. I did some research in the Brotherhood’s archives. These files contain every known act of terrorism committed by your friends. They have murdered a significant number of people in the last few years, and many of the victims are our own brothers and sisters. Do you remember the old man you rescued, Paladin Brandis?”

She nodded slightly, her eyes welling with tears as she read through the reports. Danse knew the files forwards and backwards. The contents had occupied his every waking moment the entire time Myra was gone, so he knew full well the horror and dismay she must be experiencing. “Are you saying that the Railroad…” Myra murmured, her voice cracking with emotion.

Danse sighed. “We have reason to believe that the initial ambush on his squad was from the Railroad, yes. Brandis was on a recon mission, just like mine. His team hadn’t even encountered any synths. Still, the evidence we collected at the scene suggests that the Railroad attacked them anyway, just to keep them from getting too close.”

“Desdemona wouldn’t do this,” Myra protested. “She’s a ruthless bitch, but even she wouldn’t do something like this. Would she?”

“I believe that the evidence speaks for itself,” the Paladin continued. “I’m sorry, Larimer. I wish I didn’t have to show you these files. But I want you to understand who you’ve decided to join forces with. The Railroad is not on the side of justice. They are liars. They are killers. And if they even suspected that I had uncovered your secret, they would not hesitate to make you and I both disappear.”

Myra stared up at him, tears welling in her bloodshot eyes. “But, Danse, how many synths has the Brotherhood killed over the years? Surely, the Brotherhood has caused just as much suffering as the Railroad has. Hell, even the Minutemen had their dark chapter at Quincy. One thing I’ve learned since I emerged from the vault is that no group of people is blameless.”

Danse nodded. “That’s certainly true, as long we accept your premise that synths are human. But the people the Railroad has killed are undeniably human, and there is no way around that fact. The Railroad doesn’t value human life, Larimer. How can they claim to champion synthetic life when they have no regard for life itself?”

Myra thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. “You do have a point,” she said quietly. “But I refuse to believe that every member of the Railroad thinks that way. I’ve...I know them, Danse. Some of them are my friends.”

The Paladin sighed. “And I believed that we were also friends. I’ve come to trust and respect you. If this were just a matter of ideological debate, I might even be able to agree to disagree with you. But the fact remains that the Railroad is a corrupting influence. And if you continue playing both sides of the fence, sooner or later, you’re going to find yourself alone.”

“We...we are still friends, ” Myra replied, her voice breaking. “I...I want us to still be friends. I need you, Danse. More than you know.”

“If you’re being sincere,” Danse muttered, “you need to start behaving like it. Do you realize the danger you’ve put us both in? If anyone in the Brotherhood finds out about your...associations, you’ll probably be executed. And as your sponsor, it is my duty to report you and accept my share of the blame.”

Myra frowned. “So why haven’t you turned me in?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” Danse admitted. “I’m not particularly sentimental, as a rule. Perhaps I merely wanted to give you a chance to recant. I felt…” he sighed. “I feel like I owe you that much, after all we’ve experienced together. You matter a great deal to me, Larimer. But you have to stop lying to me. If we’re going to survive this, I need you to tell me the truth. How long have you been working for them?”

She sighed raggedly. “I never wanted to hide this from you, Danse. I was hoping that I could find a way to tell you that wouldn’t put anyone else I care about at risk.”

Danse frowned, jealousy tightening its coils around him again. She’d kept secrets from him, to protect whom? Deacon? The Paladin’s scowl deepened. He had disliked Myra’s association with the duplicitous civilian even before he’d learned that the man was the Railroad’s top intelligence agent. Now, the mere implication that Myra cared for the man filled him with ire. “I wish I could believe that,” the Paladin replied. “I want to trust you, Larimer. But I’m not sure how I can any more. Answer me. Have you been spying for the Railroad since before we met?”

Myra shook her head. “Of course not! I was recruited a few months ago, when MacCready and I went to Goodneighbor.”

Danse scowled. “Is MacCready also a Railroad agent? Hell, are all of your friends working for them?”

“No, although Mac and Preston do know about them.,” she sighed. “Mac works for me, and that’s the truth.”

The Paladin felt a pang of guilt as he remembered the events that led Myra to Goodneighbor after they had cleared Fort Strong. If only he’d kept himself under control, had been able to face his fear of losing her after the Super Mutant attack...he should have stayed by her side. Damn it, why did everything go wrong every time he strayed from her side? Danse and Myra should have gone to Goodneighbor together. He should have been there for her. In a way, this was all his fault.

“Larimer,” Danse said softly, “what did the Railroad promise you? Why would you join them when you already had the Brotherhood of Steel and the Minutemen at your back? Weren’t we enough for you?”

“They want to take down the Institute, Danse,” she replied earnestly. “Even if their motives are different, they want the same thing the Brotherhood does. And they have some significant resources at their disposal, methods and techniques no one else has. That’s why I decided to ally with them. I figured that we could debate the synth question after we…” Myra’s voice trailed off, a far, haunted look in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I never meant for things to turn out like this.”

“Neither did I,” Danse said softly. “I never wanted to doubt you, Myra.” It was only after the shock on her face registered with him that Danse realized that he’d called her by her first name. Ordinarily, he’d be flustered by this breach of decorum. But at this point, he wasn’t certain where they stood. Was she even his subordinate any more? If this was truly the end of their time together...perhaps it no longer mattered. She’d been Myra to him for months, although he rarely acknowledged it.

“I know you can’t trust that I’m telling you the truth, Danse,” she continued. “But believe me. The last thing I’d ever want to do is to hurt you. All I’ve ever wanted was to get my son back. Everything else was just a means to get there. But now...now I wish I’d found another way.” Myra’s eyes welled with tears. “Very few things in my life have been as painful as seeing you look at me like this, Danse. I’d take it all back, if I could. I’m so, so sorry.”

Danse felt an overwhelming desire to scoop her into his arms and cradle her gently against his armored torso. He wanted to hold her close, to brush the lines of worry and regret from her lovely face, to give her the comfort both of them desperately needed. But he held himself back. For all her perfect words, for how desperately he wanted to throw caution to the wind, there were some lines he couldn’t afford to cross. Not until he knew where they stood.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. No more apologies were exchanged. There was no need. Whether it was a foolish, treasonous decision or not, Danse believed her. He still trusted her. And, more than that, he couldn’t bear to lose her because of his own mistakes.

Eventually, Myra sighed, biting her lower lip the way she always did when she was distressed. “So what now?” she asked softly.

“We still have quite a dilemma on our hands,” Danse replied. “I’m reasonably certain that Proctor Quinlan suspects you, or will soon. As far as I can see, there are two options. You can leave the Brotherhood of Steel and go into hiding. You might be safe, but I...we would never be able to see each other again without risking us both being executed for treason.”

Myra laughed bitterly. “Well, that’s not really an option. After all of this, I won’t leave you behind to clean up after me. What’s the other choice?”

“I hate to ask this of you,” Danse said with a measured sigh. “I know how important the Minutemen are to you, and whether I approve or not, I realize that you consider many members of the Railroad to be your friends. If there was another way...but the safest option would be taking the Oath of Fidelity. Formally join the Brotherhood of Steel, and make it clear to everyone where you stand. Then no one in the Brotherhood would turn on you, not even Quinlan.”

Myra frowned. “Danse, I can’t do that. I have responsibilities to all my allies. If I prioritize one group above the others, it could start a war.”

“I understand that,” the Paladin replied. “That’s one of the reasons I was hoping to avoid you taking the Oath. But we don’t have the luxury of half-measures, Larimer. Not at this juncture. If you’re going to survive, Quinlan has to believe that you are sincere.”

“I...I need time, Danse,” Myra murmured, her emerald eyes searching his for answers he couldn’t even begin to know how to give her. “That’s not a decision I can just make on the spot.”

He nodded. “I understand. That’s why I’m prepared to take you away from here as soon as you’re well enough to move. I have a vertibird on standby, manned by a lancer who owes me a pretty substantial favor. We can be halfway across the Commonwealth before anyone knows we’re gone.”

Myra scoffed. “Running away? That’s unlike you, Danse.”

“It’s hardly running away,” he argued. “You need a chance to think things through, and the further you are from Proctor Quinlan right now, the better. As far as anyone will know, you and I have a very important, urgent mission that requires our immediate attention.”

The Paladin walked over to Myra’s desk, grabbing a pen before furiously scribbling a message to Arthur.

Elder Maxson,

Knight Larimer is experiencing severe psychological stress as well as extensive physical injuries. I am retroactively requesting an undetermined amount of leave for her and myself so I can keep an eye on her. I believe I still have almost a year in unused leave, so I trust this will not be an issue.

I know our attack on the Institute must come first, but, frankly, if she doesn’t take some time off, I fear Knight Larimer will not last through the coming conflict. As you yourself said, she is too valuable an asset for us to mismanage her right when we need her the most.

I’ll keep you informed of any and all changes to her condition, and we will return as soon as she is well. Thank you in advance for agreeing to this. If you do not agree to this, feel free to punish me as you see fit. Remember, you’re the one who insisted on leaving her in my care.

Ad Victoriam,

Senior Paladin T. Danse

Good enough. He grabbed a signal grenade from his pack, setting it on top of the note. “When we’re ready to leave,” he said, “I’ll take this to Colonel Garvey. I trust that he’ll know what to do with it.”

Myra’s eyes widened. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Danse frowned. “When have you ever known me to not be serious, especially when it concerns the safety of my men?”

She smiled softly. “That’s certainly true,” she replied. “Still, are you sure you want to take this sort of risk? What if I decide not to take the Oath?”

Danse returned to her side in a few long strides, taking her hand in his once more. “I trust you more than almost anyone. I know you’ll do what you perceive to be the right thing, even if I don’t always agree with your conclusions. Whatever you decide, I’ll do my best to protect you. If it costs me everything…” he sighed. “So be it. But if you’re still holding something back, I need you to be honest with me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know all the variables.”

Myra’s gaze faltered. “I already told you about the Railroad.”

Danse sighed. “I know. But there’s something more, isn’t there? What happened in the Institute, Larimer? Why didn’t you come home to the Prydwen ? You never would have risked exposing your involvement with the Railroad if you’d just done what you promised and reported to Elder Maxson first.”

“Do...do we have to talk about this right now?” she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes looked past him at some unknown spot on the floor.

The Paladin nodded. “I need to know, Larimer. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Sit.” Myra patted the side of her bed gently, and Danse shook his head. She glared at him, patting the bed more emphatically. With a heavy sigh, he removed his power armor and sat awkwardly next to her, trying not to crush her battered body by accident.

“I’m not sure why this is necessary,” he mumbled.

“I…” Myra smiled up at him sadly, her eyes brimming with tears. “This is going to be difficult for me, Danse. It’s easier if you’re close. Sorry,” she added, blushing slightly. “I know it’s awkward and weird, but I feel safer when you’re here like this, okay?”

Danse nodded, his ears burning. “Very well,” he conceded. He wasn’t sure he understood what she meant, and he felt nervous sitting this close to her. He could feel the heat of her body through the sheets, the hard curve of her leg pressing slightly against his lower back as her body shifted. Even though they operated in close quarters most of the time, it was rare for them to be this close, with no armor in between to keep them safe. This close, they could wound each other gravely if they wanted. This close, it was harder to deny the growing bond between them, even if Danse was still struggling to ignore it.

He didn’t want to admit that he loved her. The thought crept unbidden from the deep part of himself he’d caged it in when he’d found out about her Railroad involvement. He might in fact love her, but there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t let that be true. What if she was toying with him? What if she only saw him as a friend and colleague? He couldn’t risk their already frayed relationship by giving his feelings for her a name. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

But sitting beside her, watching her labor for words that would not willingly be born, he couldn’t deny the truth to himself. He would conceal it as long as he needed to, even forever if that was how things panned out, but he knew. Danse knew for certain that he loved her. He loved Myra so much that the thought of leaving her side again was almost unbearable. Even if she betrayed him in the end, even if she killed him, he couldn’t bring himself to ever part from her. He was hers, completely and entirely. May whatever god still ruled over this forsaken world have mercy on him.

He started as Myra laid her cold hand on his knee, and he turned to look at her awkwardly. She chuckled at him softly, her beautiful eyes flickering to life with her smile. “What’s wrong, Danse?” She asked.

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “We’ve just talked about so much already today. Perhaps you’re right, and we should continue this discussion another time.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re right. I need to be honest with you. After all you’ve done, you deserve to know the truth. I found him, Danse,” she continued, her face falling. “I found my son. But he’s not a child any more. He’s the leader of the Institute.”

Danse’s mind reeled. How could this be? “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Myra replied. “I’ve tried to come up with some way the Institute could have been tricking me, but the evidence speaks for itself.”

Danse took her hand in his, lending her what comfort he was able. “That certainly complicates things. I assume that’s the reason why you failed to report your findings to Elder Maxson?”

She nodded. “I’m not sure what to make of it all, Danse. Hell, I’m not sure what to do about it. Shaun’s an old man, now, almost three times my age, if you can believe it. I missed… I missed everything. I never got to teach him to read, or soothe his nightmares. Those bastards stole it all from me, and now he’s the worst one among them. They made him into a monster. My own son...my baby boy.” She broke down in deep, angry sobs.

Danse struggled to find any words that would fix this situation. He never quite knew what to do with crying women. It was one of his bigger weaknesses. Someone slicker than him would have had the right thing to say, some simple solution to make everything seem right again. All the Paladin had was his gruff sincerity, and he had to hope that it would be enough. “I...I’m sorry,” he managed. “I know this must be a terrible shock for you. I cannot even imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

Myra shuddered as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “How do I carry out our mission now?” she asked. “Can I really kill my own child? No mother should have to make that choice, Danse!”

He nodded solemnly. “Agreed. You have been put in an unimaginable position. I’ll ask Maxson to take you off this assignment. We will find another way to reach the Institute.” Not that Arthur would agree, since he’d made his position on their mission abundantly clear while Myra was away. Still, Myra was being asked to kill her own son. Danse would risk Maxson’s wrath to save her from that.

“No!” cried Myra. “No, this is mine to finish. I can’t let anyone else take responsibility for my failure as a mother.”

Danse sighed heavily. “It is not your fault that you were robbed of the chance to raise your son, Larimer. Therefore, it is not your fault that he grew up to become the man that he is. You cannot blame yourself for that.”

“But I do!” she cried. “I do. It was my job to raise him, to protect him, and I failed. My son…”

He shook his head. “Thinking like that won’t do you any good,” he replied. “Believe me, I know somewhat how you feel. After Cutler, I felt like I’d failed as well. I realize that losing a friend is different from losing a child, but the fact remains that you did not make him who he became. It wasn’t your choice.”

Myra gripped his arm so tightly that he thought she might leave a bruise. “When I was pregnant,” she growled, “I made a promise that I would give Shaun the best chance in life that I could. Is this really the best I could do?”

The Paladin placed his hand over hers. “I don’t know,” he replied earnestly. “But none of this was your choice.”

“I could have refused to sign us up for the Vault,” Myra continued. “We could have died together that day, or become ghouls. Either way, those bastards wouldn’t have taken him, used him for their damned experiments. Did you know why they call him Father? It’s because his DNA...my DNA is the model for all the gen-3 synths. They stole my baby to make their slaves.”

Danse stared at her in shock. “I...I had no idea.”

“I doubt anyone outside the Institute does,” she murmured. “The synths basically worship him. Hell, a lot of the scientists do too. Everyone in the Institute was just so fucking nice to me because of it. These terrible, twisted people, and they treated me like I was the Madonna. It was an awful, heretical nightmare, Danse. I can’t even begin to deal with it.”

His heart ached for her. How could it not? After all she’d gone through to save her son, to be confronted with something like that...it was a miracle that she still seemed sane, if he was perfectly honest. “That’s all the more reason to move to a neutral location as soon as you’re able,” Danse said softly. “No matter what you decide to do, you deserve to come to that decision on your own, without anyone manipulating you.”

Myra nodded. “It would be best if I was on my own while I figure out what to do about all this” she replied. “But Danse?”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’d really like it if you stayed with me. I’ll understand if you’d rather leave, knowing what you know. But I...I want you to stay.”

Danse sighed heavily. Of course he wanted to remain by her side. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that there was nothing he’d rather do. But was it wise for him to put himself in this position? Was it right for him to remain, to influence her when he’d just told her to choose on her own?

Myra’s eyes darkened as he hesitated, and she released her grip on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said blankly. “I’m acting like an idiot. You’ve indulged me enough.”

Danse eased down next to her with a heavy sigh, lying beside her on top of the sheets. Carefully, he pulled her into his arms, protecting her the only way he had left to do so. If she was in a firefight, he would have shielded her as he always did. If raiders were staging an assault on her home, he would risk everything to bring her to safely. But against the worries and decisions that hung over her head like a guillotine blade, all he had to offer was this awkward attempt at comfort.

Myra tensed with a hiss of pain, but soon settled into his unexpected embrace. The Paladin thought he might have imagined it, but it felt as though she’d placed a gentle kiss against the arm of his flight suit as she nestled against him. Tears still flowed heavily from her bloodshot eyes, and he lifted his arm to her face, wiping them dry with his sleeve. “Thanks,” she murmured softly.

“I’ll never leave you,” he said. “You’re my responsibility, after all.”

She chuckled weakly. “So what part of the manual is this tactic from?” she joked.

Danse smiled slightly. “Perhaps if it works, I’ll have to write an appendix,” he replied. “As it is, decorum prohibits actions like this, and with good reason. I trust you’ll keep this infraction just between us.”

Myra nodded. “You keep my secrets, Danse, and I’ll keep yours.”

In spite of himself, the Paladin liked the sound of that. He’d always been a paragon of decorum, never questioning the Codex that kept his adopted family alive. But ever since Myra had stumbled into the Cambridge Police Station, that weak black pistol blazing, Danse could sense a shift in his approach to his calling. Myra was changing him, and while that should have alarmed him, Danse found that realization surprisingly comforting to him. There was no way he could return to the man he was before. But with her beside him, he had no desire to do so.

Prudent or not, he loved her. And that, at least, was worth defending, even if she could never know the truth.