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When she had approached the farm this morning, the settlers had been cautious but once they recognized her, they crowded around in excitement. Questions buzzed in the air like worker bees eager for any news about the Wasteland, what she had been up to, and how the Minutemen were doing.
Laughing at their enthusiasm, she had looked up only to have the smile die slowly on her lips. There stood Danse, standing at attention behind the settlers, laser rifle cradled in his arms. Ever the soldier; professional, confident, and reliable as well as watching over those under his command. Though she supposed in this case it was those who he lived and worked beside every day.
The rest of the world fell away until he was the only thing in it and her lips parted in wonder, eyes widening in astonishment. She never dreamed she would see him again. Unconsciously, she wiped her suddenly clammy palms on her fatigues. She took a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to calm her racing heart. She could only stand there drinking in the sight of him. He looked tired and weary but still so damn sexy. This man still had the ability to scramble her senses.
Without conscious thought, her feet started moving, headed straight for him. Just to see him, to touch him, make sure he was real and not a mirage her tired mind conjured up, those needs consumed her, burning her from the inside out.
Why had she found him now, after she had finally buried her memories of him and all the emotions he caused her to feel; the pain of him leaving her behind, the excitement whenever he was near…the passion she longed to feel with him in her arms. She had buried them all, just like she had buried Nate and a mother’s love for Shaun. Had fate not had enough of jerking her around like a puppet on a string? Apparently not, the fickle bitch. She was so tired of it all; drained to her soul.
Having started towards him, she felt her heart break a little as he turned on his heel and marched away, heading towards a cabin on the outskirts of the settlement. Was this a sign that he wanted nothing to do with her? Who was this Danse? Had he changed so much from the man she had once known?
Focusing her attention back on the settlers, she answered as many questions as she could and explained she had been nearby and ran out of supplies. Two settlers shooed the rest of the group away and invited her to follow them. They told her to take whatever she needed to resupply herself. Because of the new settler who had chosen to stay, they had a well-stocked armory with weapons, ammunition, first aid, and even a few pieces of armor. Surely they were talking about Danse.
Silently following them, she looked up to observe the gray, mostly cloudy sky, her mind drifting back to another memory on a similar day she recalled in vivid detail.
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The weather had been bitterly cold, the wind biting through every layer she had on. She was chilled to the bone, teeth chattering, and hands as cold as blocks of ice. The sky had also been dark and overcast, much like today.
With an involuntary shiver, she recalled the meeting with Maxson on the Prydwen and the shock of finding out Danse's true identity.
Maxson’s parting words, "Listen. I'm not blind to the fact that Danse was your mentor and this isn't an easy burden to bear but if we're to remain strong, we can't afford to make exceptions....even when it means executing one of our own."
After that heated exchange, her final parting words swallowed so as not to arouse suspicion, she had found herself at the bunker coordinates Haylen had given her with no recognition of how she had gotten there. She had taken out the roof turrets upon walking into the ravine.
As usual, Danse had been prepared. It seemed even facing the reality of possible death at the Brotherhood’s hands -- the only home and family he had known -- he had been ready to fight.
He never backed down from a fight, something she admired but had also feared as she started to care for him. She made it past the turrets and the two protectrons he had activated as well.
What followed was a relentless difference of opinions as she fought for his life and he fought against it.
“Synths can’t be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions. They need to be controlled. Technology that’s run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction. I need to be the example not the exception.”
Margo countered his argument with one of her own. “The empathy that you’re showing me, it’s a human emotion. I won’t do it Danse.”
Using every argument and persuasion she could think of, she did her best to make him realize life was worth living -- even without the Brotherhood behind him. He finally agreed with her after she convinced him that all he had done had been for the people of the Commonwealth, not to mention all those he had saved while in the Brotherhood.
She presumed he had understood they could go on together as a team. Evidently, he had preferred being a team of one all along.
The memories continued to play like watching actors on a stage, Elder Maxson showing up unexpectedly and all that happened after. At least he had agreed to let Danse go in the end. It suddenly occurred to her that Danse had not seemed surprised by Maxson’s appearance.
So, whose life would she try to save this time around -- hers or his?
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After securing her supplies, thanking the settlers for their help and for giving her a place to bunk for the night, Margo looked towards the cabin Danse had withdrawn to. It was in good repair and, not surprisingly, set away from the others. Either he liked his privacy, or he still considered himself an outcast, not just from the Brotherhood but from society in general. She briefly considered asking the settlers if they knew he was a synth but nixed the idea. If they didn’t know, she wasn’t about to tell them his secret.
Her mind made up, she walked to the cabin, knocking softly. “Come in.”
That voice still had the ability to send shivers of anticipation down her spine, her skin tingling just as if he had touched her. It was the same deep, low-pitched voice tone which had haunted her dreams -- day and night -- as she found herself starting to care for him as more than a friend, fantasizing about what could never be.
That had been a rough time. Those fantasies had preoccupied her making her a liability on many of their missions with her concentration broken by his nearness. Every time he had touched her, innocently on his part, she had felt it like an electric current all through her body. He was a schoolgirl’s fantasy as the cliché went; unobtainable and out of reach to her. She was definitely no schoolgirl, but he certainly made her feel like one with a giant-sized crush.
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Cautiously, not sure if she was welcome, she opened the door and walked inside. Danse was sitting at a table in the middle of the cabin. The laser rifle lay on the table and he sat in a chair, elbows resting on knees, hands clasped between his legs, and head bent down, his chin resting on his chest.
Her eyes greedily traveled over his body, noting several changes. The most obvious difference of all was that he was much leaner than before and yet his muscles were still very well defined. The sleeveless shirt he wore didn’t quite cling to his body. Before, it would have shown the outline of his thick, muscular chest and six pack abs. The large muscles in his arms still stood out, their strength obvious.
It hardly seemed possible for him to be even more ruggedly handsome. His hair was longer, his beard thicker but still neatly trimmed, and his jawline was more pronounced. There were small nicks and scars on his hands and a few on his arms she had never seen before, although it wasn’t often she had seen him without his orange Brotherhood jumpsuit on. The biggest change, which seemed so out-of-place for him, was his hair. He had been wearing a black stocking cap earlier, which was thrown haphazardly on the table beside him. It was shoulder length now, tousled and messy from the cap, the longer strands wavy and flying around his head. A few wayward strands fell forward over his face and she could imagine it touching his collar in the back. The color was still as dark as a raven's wings and she longed to run her fingers through its silkiness.
Her eyes wandered around the one-room cabin noticing the sparse furnishings yet it was organized and spotless just like his room on the Prydwen had been. Pausing in her assessment, she looked back at him. What had he been doing all this time? He must have decided it was worth staying here. Probably assumed he would never be found. Well, he was certainly wrong about that.
Seeing him after so long, standing near him made her realize the wounds she had thought healed over -- from the pain of him leaving and all the emotions he had made her feel -- were still as raw as the day they were made.
“I never thought I would see you again.” The words escaped through her lips before she could stop them. Way to be subtle, Margo.
“Did you ever stop to think maybe that was the point?”
Margo stared at Danse, trying to wrap her mind around his response. Had he truly meant to leave her behind? Apparently, he had lied when he said he would wait for her.
"So, you intended to leave all along and never say goodbye? After all we had been through together, Danse, I believed we had something more. I guess in the end I truly meant nothing to you except the means to an end.”
She was surprised that her voice held steady. Then she waited, but for what, she wasn’t sure. His head turned towards her. She searched his eyes, his face for signs that he was lying; a nervous twitch, lack of eye contact, anything at all. Those eyes continued to look directly into hers and his posture never changed. He didn’t react at all.
No apology fell from his lips. There was no remorse on his face. He still had that infuriating ability of not revealing what he was thinking or feeling, which prompted a wayward thought to briefly cross her mind. Maybe, since he was a synth, everything before had been fake and maybe this was the true Danse. No -- she refused to believe that.
"I did what I needed to do and I won't apologize for it. I knew -- know -- you are entirely capable of taking care of yourself. Besides, you had the Brotherhood to back you up if you needed it, you still do. You didn't need me anymore."
Danse didn’t know just how wrong he was about that. He also had no idea she hadn’t stayed with the Brotherhood. After receiving the title of Paladin and being given his room aboard the Prydwen, she had tried unsuccessfully to feel the hole he left but it was just too hard.
The ache in her heart was just too much with memories of him everywhere she turned and in the end she left, going back and staying with the Minutemen. In the end, she had taken all of his possessions along with his power armor and left, never looking back. She supposed a part of her had continued to hope he would come back at some point. All of those possessions were waiting for him back at the Red Rocket.
Attempting to find neutral ground, she asked him. "What do you do here?"
Not waiting for him to answer, she turned away, crossing over to look outside the only window in the cabin. She had a pretty good idea of why he had ended up in this settlement. It was the farthest away from any areas the Brotherhood defended--and her. He should have at least thought that with her being the General, the Minutemen might come here. Entirely logical in every thought and plan, she was surprised he hadn’t considered that. Hearing the chair scrape across the floor, she imagined him standing with his arms crossed in front of him, his legs straight and set apart in a wide stance.
"I help the settlers keep the raiders and other abominations in this area at bay. They required help when I arrived and I needed some place to lay low for a while; it was a good trade. In the end, I stayed. The Brotherhood doesn’t patrol in this location. It was an excellent strategy and here I could begin a new life -- far from my past."
Damn those last words hurt but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting it show. Of course, he could be talking about being synth; she wasn’t exactly sure. As she suspected though, he never once considered the Minutemen would come here. A wrong assumption on his part. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain herself but she did anyway.
"The only reason I came here is because I was in the area and needed supplies. It was quite a hike but I didn’t see any other alternative. Sorry to have rained on your parade."
Turning so she could look him in the eye, “I’ll be heading out in the morning. Despite everything that happened and how it ended, it was good to see you Danse."
Realizing her attempt at bridging the gap in this awkward meeting was not going to happen, she decided it was prudent to walk away. She headed for the door, her hand pausing on the doorknob when she heard him speak, "Is there anything in particular you need? I know my way around and the settlers know and trust me. I might be of some assistance in getting you on your way."
How could he be so dispassionate? Had he changed that much since that fateful day? Had he really never cared for her?
There were times she had begun to think that he felt something for her; leaning down to whisper in her ear, his hand at the small of her back as he would usher him ahead of her, or catching him already watching her when she turned to look at him. Maybe she had just been imagining it all. He obviously wanted her out of here at the earliest possible convenience.
"You know, as you so aptly stated, I can take care of myself, so I think helping me would just be a waste of your time." She paused to take a breath, then went on unable to hide the sudden weariness in her voice,"I don't know what I did to turn you against me so completely, but I damn well regret my decision to have saved your sorry ass. You are the most ungrateful excuse for a man I have ever met. Go. To. Hell."
She whirled back around, the door crashing against the wall, almost missing his quietly spoken words. "I am not a man." Flinching at the anguish she heard in his voice, she nonetheless walked out the door and out of his life.
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Danse watched Margo leave, immediately regretting everything he had said. He knew how to keep a stoic expression, a tactic he had learned well in the Brotherhood. He only wished he could keep his vulnerability for her hidden as well. He wasn't sure how she had missed it because he felt like it was written all over his face. It didn't seem possible a synth was able have the intense feelings he was having for her.
Staying by her side would only put her life in jeopardy and he could never do that to her. Didn't she understand? Why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her?
He recalled earlier looking up to see what the settlers were animated about, and there she was. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as his brain tried to come to terms with what his eyes were seeing. She was really here, so close it made his body tremble with wanting to touch her.
When she had turned away again, he had lowered his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes. This was not good. She brought too many emotions back, a temptation and a hunger that he had only ever felt for this woman.
Not sure if she had come here looking for him or if by chance, he had stalked off to his cabin to hide, something he had never done before. He preferred to confront things head on but it was easier in this instance than coming face to face with her and acknowledging this…weakness he had for her. Of course, she had found him anyway and he had made a mess of that as well.
Walking to the window, his hand touched the cool glass and he watched her walk up to one of the settlers. Seeing her standing her in his cabin brought back that hunger his body felt for her. His blood thrummed through his veins like an electric current, every nerve ending on fire and painful with the need to touch her, feel her skin beneath his fingers.
A memory surfaced of him leaning down to whisper something in her ear when they had been listening to Lancer-Captain Kells drone on, the smell of her hair capturing him, a stray lock caressing his cheek. He felt himself harden with want. That had already been a problem as he had stood there apart from everyone and seen who it was. Her fatigues didn't show much, but a tattered shirt had clung to all the curves of her upper body, her lithe, muscular arms bare and glistening in a brief shaft of sun through the gray clouds. Her long, deep brown glossy hair had been pulled back in a pony tail. He had always longed to see it spilling down her bare back.
Shaking his head to chase the images away, he was thankful she had left before seeing the longing and desire in his eyes. This would be the last time he would ever see her. It was essential he pack up now and go even deeper into the Wasteland, running away from the very real human emotions she made him feel. That just wasn't right for a synth.
Glancing around the room, he took stock of his inventory. There wasn't much here. His laser rifle was his only link to his past and it had kept him alive on more than one occasion. Everything else from his former life was gone. He had no mementos and what little provisions he needed wouldn't be hard to carry.
Lifting the lid of a chest next to the table, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and just stared at it as if it held the answers to all of his questions. There was a time when it had. How many nights after he left that bunker did he drink to ease the pain?
He had lost his life back there; everything he knew and stood for was gone in the blink of an eye. His world as he knew it had exploded, and the shrapnel had buried itself everywhere. Over time, it had buried itself so deep it was unable to be removed. Not that he wanted to try. It was always a reminder. He put the bottle on the table beside him to remember a time and place he neither wanted to go and couldn’t afford to go at this time. There was too much to do.
Having packed all that was needed, he sat on the bed, watching as the light slowly faded from the sky. He couldn't remember a time when it had taken this long. All his life he had been so busy night had fallen before he realized it. He would stagger to his bedroll wherever it was and collapse.
Sleep had never been a respite for him. It still wasn't. He carried the nightmares from his time in the Brotherhood as well as new ones. They always chased him from sleep too soon, waking him up in a cold sweat, eyes wild, looking around for the object of the current nightmare before realizing he was in his cabin. Tonight he would add one more.
His eyes fell once again on the bottle sitting on the table. He felt its sweet siren song, urging him to forget for just a short while. He was powerless to resist it. The thought of just a small amount was the lie he told himself once again. That small amount became two thirds as the liquid inside drained down steadily. He was lost to the sweet buzz of the whiskey, floating serenely, worries and pain gone for the moment.
Danse never heard the door open as a furtive shape slipped in and blended with the shadows. He was too lost in a past alive only in his mind, of a time when he belonged and had a purpose.
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Margo watched Danse from her hiding place by the door. Gone was the unbending, uncaring, stoic soldier she had encountered earlier. His body was slumped on the bed, head leaning at an awkward angle. He had one arm draped over his head while the other dangled off the side, a mostly empty whiskey bottle barely held by the grip of his fingers.
She knew he would hate her seeing him like this. She never meant to come back here before she left but found she was powerless to stay away, pulled by an attraction she was unable to ignore and powerless to fight.
Without warning, his eyes locked onto hers and the bottle fell to the floor rolling away. He swayed as he sat up and regarded her with a thunderous expression.
"What the hell are you doing here? " He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "Why can’t you just get the hell out of my life!"
Margo stepped from the shadows, hands held low in front of her like she was trying to calm a wild animal. "Shhhh, keep your voice down, Danse. The settlers will be here in seconds if you continue yelling."
"Don't tell me what to do!" he roared, ignoring her attempt at placating him. "My life is my own and I will live it however I damn well please. Isn't that what you wanted from me? You need to get the hell away from me now. GO! As far and as fast as you can run."
He stood, stumbling unsteadily, intending to throw her out bodily if it came to it.
Without realizing it, Margo had walked up next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. His muscles stiffened with the contact. It had been so long since anyone had touched him for any reason. This wasn't just anyone though, it was Margo. The friend and fellow soldier -- the woman -- he was aware of on a more personal level who had saved him when he was ready to give up his life for the Brotherhood.
“Danse, look at me.” Her fingertips softly grazed his cheek and she slowly angled his face down towards hers. “Why are you fighting me so hard? What did I do to you that hurt you so badly?” Tenderness and compassion and a yearning to understand were evident in her words.
His hand came up and gripped her fingers painfully and he opened his eyes turning them to hers. She gasped to see they were full of equal parts anger and agony.
“You,” he spit out, “made me feel like I had a life worth living. You made me think it was possible to exist out here as if I was human.”
The contempt he had for himself dripped from every word. Margo had no idea his self-loathing went so deep but she supposed she should have guessed. He had wanted to die for Maxson after all.
“I should have died back there. I don’t deserve to live.” He released her fingers and flung her hand away from him as if he couldn’t bear to touch her any longer.
Taking a deep breath, she hung her head as she heard her heart shatter right there on the floor. Would it have been better to let him follow through with his original plan? Had she hurt him more by convincing him to go on? It had been unbearable to imagine a world without him in it, but in the end, here she was in that situation anyway.
Speaking quietly, so he would have to strain to hear every word, “You know, I never expected you to be a quitter, Danse. I guess I was wrong about you. Goodbye. This time forever.”
She walked to the door, turning the knob and opening it softly when suddenly it was slammed shut before her, rocking the cabin walls. Danse spun her around to face him. Deep brown eyes blazed down in fury as he towered above her, heavily muscled arms boxing her in both sides. His rage was a palpable, living thing that reared up between them.
“I am NOT a quitter. I’ve finished everything I ever started until the life I knew was erased. I have nothing to live for now.”
She didn't hear anything he said, her focus solely on his lips as they moved. Those sensual lips she had longed to have pressed intimately against her own.
“Ah, hell,” she whispered. Reaching her hands up around his neck, she pulled his head forcibly down to hers and pressed her lips against his, incited by the storm of emotions raging through her body.
The kiss was hesitant at first. Danse seemed shocked by the unexpected touch but soon he was responding with equal passion. She recognized in that split second that he had desired her as well.
His lips slanted over hers with a hunger that threatened to devour them both. Leaning into her, he pressed himself against her. He was hard and she arched into him, wanting more. Invading her mouth, his tongue dueled with hers in all out warfare. Margo let the fuel of his need overwhelm her and she put her hands behind his head, sliding them up to grab handfuls of glorious hair, silky strands sifting through her fingers.
Pulling away suddenly, Danse opened his eyes, focusing in on her. What she saw took her breath away. His pupils were dilated making them liquid pools of desire she could feel herself falling into. She longed to know why he had stopped, but would not break the moment with words. Gingerly, as if afraid he would bolt like frightened rabbit, her fingers gently traced the scar that ran across his right eyebrow and down his face, tracing his lips and continuing lower, grazing lightly over his collarbone.
Those strong arms enveloped her body lifting her up and holding her against the wall as he angled his body in between her legs. Margo wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him more access to what she craved so much. Again, that mouth came down on hers greedily, like he was starved and couldn't get his fill. She took all he had to offer and with her hands free, she slid them over his chest and further down, fingers slipping inside his waist band, tugging his shirt out and playing with the sensitive flesh. He groaned against her mouth in response.
Breaking the kiss again, he rested his head on her shoulder, his ragged breathing loud in the silence of the cabin. Margo laid a hand on the side of his cheek, resting it there gently, wondering where this was all going to lead. She knew what she wanted but did he want the same or was this just the whiskey talking?
"This is wrong, Margo. How could you possibly want this with a machine?" The vulnerability in his voice was heartrending.
Grabbing his face with both hands, she made him look her in the eyes. "Look at me, Danse. Can't you see in my eyes what I see in yours? I have never wanted anyone more than I want you right now. I have laid my ghosts to rest.......now it's time for you to do that as well. Love me, Danse, please."
His eyes searched hers shyly but in earnest, wanting to believe what she said but he was terrified. Where would this lead after it was over? Would she walk out of his life? Would he even let her this time? He needed this but it scared the hell out of him at the same time. In all his time as a soldier, there was little that terrified him but this woman had battered down all his defenses and he couldn't fight her anymore. Right now, he would take whatever tonight would bring and live for this moment.
In answer to her plea, he gathered her close, turned and walked towards the bed. Laying her down gently, he just gazed into her eyes before he leaned down, his lips touching hers in wonder once again.
Tomorrow would be soon enough for worries.