Chapter Text
Danse
He pulled the trigger of his laser rifle in futility, having just ran out of ammo. He swallowed a snarl as the ghouls snapped and scraped at his power suit. Using the butt of his gun, he broke the jaws of those closest to him. His charge hung back behind the shop counter quickly reloading her 10mm pistol with gusto before providing covering fire and busting the head of one open. The shot caused it to splash across his face, the stench of rotting brain and flesh uncomfortably close to his mouth and uncomfortably warm. He fought back the urge to retch and continued his melee with the others, taking out his frustrations on them instead of unleashing a slew of reprimands with the gore in danger of entering his mouth, then he’d be unable to hold back his lunch. Still, with the foul creatures encroaching further, their numbers seemingly endless, he had to give the order to retreat further into the decrepit building. Danse only hoped they wouldn’t be sandwiched between two hoards.
“Up the stairs, Harding, now!” He ordered over the discordant howls of the ghouls. He didn’t need to look to know she’d ignored him. Before he could turn and drag her up the stairs, his stomach fell through his feet.
“Grenade!” She yelled from the bottom steps before bolting up them. Danse all but scrambled to follow before the heat of the blast singed the back of his suit, knocking him off balance. It seemed to do the trick and only a few were left. Before he could stand again, Danse pulled out his secondary and laid waste to them with ease. With finally a second to catch his breath, he remembered himself and after placing a mine at the bottom of the steps he marched up to where Harding sat. The Initiate hadn’t waited to pull out a purified water and douse a cloth shirt with it. She tensed at his fuming expression, fists clenching around the fabric.
“Initiate Harding, might I remind you that I am your commanding officer. I expect you to follow my orders to the tee, what you did just now could have ended completely different. We’re lucky the building didn’t come down on us!” He reprimanded, complete with the finger pointing and pacing. All she did was hold the shirt out to him. At first all he did was stare at it dumbly before taking it and wiping his face clean without so much as a thank you. It was too bad that the gore had slipped past his neckline and was getting into his suit. As much as he loathed to be out of it while out on the beat, the feeling was beyond disgusting.
The light was fading quickly, as the day was wont to do in the winter. It couldn’t have been later than 1800 hours, but it wasn’t worth heading out into the darkness with so many ferals in the area. It wasn’t the first time the report Knight Rhys had given was insufficient in quantifying the amount of ghouls they had to clear. The mission was only to tide them over until the Prydwen arrived, not get them killed. With great reluctance and a worsening of his mood, he positioned his power armor to block the stairwell and exited the suit. Looking down at his jumpsuit made him groan and grimace. “We’ll have to bivouac here tonight and set out earlier than planned in the morning.” He sighed, his irritation draining now that the immediate danger had passed. Danse walked over to the broken window, glancing around with a practiced eye and absentmindedly wiping his hands on the shirt.
He turned at the muted sound of a hiss from Harding. She’d shed the brotherhood of steel combat armor she’d bought and the top portion of her vault suit and was trembling as she held a dingy rag he assumed was doused in alcohol to her shoulder. Her eyes faced resolutely forward as she gingerly rubbed at whatever wound she had. The sight made something inside him pinch but he swallowed it down. “If you were injured you should have said so, Harding.” He all but grumbled as he came over to crouch in front of her and study her injury. She glared defiantly at him and he tried not to feel like he deserved it but failed.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Let me see.” He murmured, waiting for her to give some sort of acknowledgement. After a moment she swallowed and nodded, pulling the rag away from a gnarly gash on her bicep. Danse watched her face for any discomfort as he began to tend to it. “How’d this happen?” He, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out exactly when it had happened. Had it been from shrapnel from her grenade; had one of the ghouls managed to land a hit on her, had it been from before that, even?
“Remember when we were talking about the best techniques to take down yao guai’s and some raiders got the jump on us and we had to, as you put it, strategically retreat? Well it happened when we had to crawl through that damn fence.” She spat at recalling the rusted out chain-link tetanus trap. Danse closed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath, having to pause his ministrations to collect himself at her admission. They’d crawled through the fence not long after leaving the Cambridge Police Station.
“That explains the surplus of bloodbugs.” He offered evenly, trying to hide his disappointment. “This is going to have to be checked out by Scribe Haylen when we get back to the station, it should have been cleaned immediately and at this point it wouldn’t surprise me if it was infected.” He said, administering not one, but two stimpacks before wrapping the wound with a bandage. When he was finished, he lingered and watched her inspect his work.
“I didn’t think it was this bad. I guess adrenaline really is the best painkiller.” She chuckled ruefully, staring at the bandage. He allowed himself to study her in the fading light, her smile somehow making it easier to see. A thought was forming in his mind that he fought to realize. He rose, clearing his throat and faced away from her in a strategic retreat to distract himself before the thought became real.
“Affirmative. I’ll get a fire going so we can have our evening provisions.” He said with a sense of finality.
“I’ll set up our bedrolls, then.” She groaned as she rose to get to it, but he held out a hand as if to stop her. Harding looked at him in confusion and surprise as he fumbled to explain himself.
“I, um, you’re injured, I’ll do it. Just, um, sit back and rest.” He verbally stumbled along yet managed not to flop. “That’s a, uh, order.” He finished, turning away from her to grimace at his ineloquence.
“Okay. I’ll just sit here, I guess.” She replied with confusion still evident in her voice.
As he managed to get a healthy spark going he rummaged through their packs for some Pork n’ Beans and Instamash. While he waited for their dinner to heat up he laid out their bedrolls strategically; far from the window and out of sight of the stairs after moving some of the broken furniture around. Danse felt her eyes on him the entire time and regretted giving her nothing to do. By the time he was done, he was working up a sweat and the last vestiges of the day were long gone. He’d been so lost in his head that he’d forgotten about their dinner, but thankfully she’d set to finish it and make sure it didn’t all burn. Danse took a seat across from her with the fire between them and began to eat. He was thankful for the silence, until he looked up from his meal and found her staring at him. A creased brow appeared to be a permanent fixture when he was with her. She finished eating before him and pulled two beers from her pack, wasting no time in breaking the seal on one and taking a healthy sip before holding the other out to him in an unspoken question. He eyed it like it couldn’t be trusted for a second, earning him a snicker.
“It’s not like it’s gonna bite you, Danse.” She teased before wiggling it around. He pouted at her before taking it and downing half of it without looking away in a challenge. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as she began to study her own bottle and his little stunt proved to keep her quiet, at least for the moment. “I’m sorry.” She murmured after a time. Danse spared a glance at her. Her face had shifted into an easily neutral mask as she stared into the fire. Her gaze flicked to his and she coughed as if to clear her throat when he gave no response. “For, uh, not telling you when I got cut. I didn’t want to slow us down.” She admitted.
Danse wanted to tell her that it was only proving to slow them down; that by withholding that information she was putting them at greater risk. But, another part of him wanted to apologize in kind. The fact that she hadn’t felt comfortable enough to tell him in the first place was a reflection of his failure as a leader. He hadn’t realized he was clenching his fist until she spoke again.
“But I suppose I slowed us down anyway, huh?” She sighed ruefully as she pulled her knees up to her chin and held her bottle against her lower lip. Danse berated himself for wallowing in self pity instead of assuaging her feelings of guilt. He swallowed as he collected himself.
“I won’t lie and say you didn’t put us at greater risk, but I will tell you that it isn’t all your fault.” He cast his gaze over her shoulder because he couldn’t bear to see her face as he continued. “As your CO, I should have-- I should’ve noticed you were injured, that you weren’t performing at your best. Not only that, but it was my decision, yet again, that resulted in an injury.” He cast his eyes down at his hands before topping off his bottle. He heard more than saw her maneuver over to his side and lay a hand on his crossed knee.
“Hey, look at me, Danse.” She coaxed, giving his knee a gentle shake. When he didn’t, her dainty fingers took his face in her hand and made him look at her. The fire in her eyes kept him pliant and he couldn’t help but have his eyes rove over her face from her eyes to her lips and back as her thumb ran over his cheek. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for their deaths. They weren’t your fault. You were dropped into an area you had no information on, with no backup, and with no way to contact your superiors. There was nothing you could do to prevent their deaths. And not that it will help any, but they knew what they were risking when they signed up for Squad Gladius and the Op.” He tensed and she was having none of it when he tried to look away. He had no idea why he was letting her do this. It was beyond breaking protocol, but he didn’t want to stop her. “Listen to me, Danse. You did your best. You did your best and I don’t know if you care or value it, but I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you and I know how hard you’ve been trying to stay strong for Haylen and Rhys. Hell, I’m an outsider and even I can see how much they respect you.
“I know you and I should have known you’d blame yourself for my stupid decision. I’m sorry for bringing up those bad memories, but I want you to know that I'm here for you and that I don’t blame you for anything that happened and that no one else blames you either. I know I’m nobody and just an Initiate to you, but I want you to lean on me when things get too hard. When the Prydwen finally arrives I know things will change, but I-- I hope we’re still together.” She finished, nearly cooing. Danse hadn’t noticed how close they had gotten and blinked as if coming out a trance. She dropped her hand and backed off as he cleared his throat.
“Thank you for the reassurance, Initiate Harding. When the Prydwen arrives you’ll be put under my sponsorship as per Elder Maxson’s approval. If he approves my sponsorship, then we’d be doing Ops together for the foreseeable future.” Danse rose and dusted himself off before collecting the ragged shirt to clean the interior of his power armor. “I hope he approves.” He muttered under his breath despite himself. “I’ll take first watch, get some rest, Harding.” He heard shuffling as she got situated.
“Hey, Danse.” She called.
“What is it, Initiate?” There was a pause before she responded.
“Call me Juliana when it’s just us. It’s weird being called Harding all the time.” He visibly stiffened.
“That would be inappropriate.” He scowled, feeling his half-thought from before becoming clearer. Danse found he would like very much to call her so familiarly.