The Human Condition - Fallout 4 | OC x Danse |

25. crawl out...

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

"...Isn't there some other way? There has to be!"

I'd lost any ability to speak for several moments after the Elder issued the heartless command. I shook my head furiously, eyes brimming with withheld tears. There had to be another way. 

It was cruel... perhaps the cruelest thing Maxson could've ordered, yet made the most sense: if I wanted to prove my loyalty, my undying support for the cause (and to prove Danse had never confided in me), I should be the one to do it. 

As a Brotherhood soldier, in fact, it should be seen as an honor. Being the one assigned to take out the spy, the abomination, the high-level threat myself. 

But it's Danse! Not some random spy!

"Absolutely not. My decision is final." Maxson's response to my plea was quick and harsh. 

I fought back tears that threatened to spill over. I couldn't cry in front of Maxson — I wouldn't. As he watched me struggle to compose myself as a soldier (as if I could ever really be a true soldier), his face softened a bit once again, attempting to sympathize. 

"Look, I'm not blind to the fact that Danse was your mentor — I know you two were fond of each other. This isn't an easy burden to bear. But if we're to remain strong, we can't afford to make exceptions... even if it means executing one of our own."

Our own. There was something behind his tone that gave me the impression he was feeling the faintest hint of remorse, hidden behind his stone-cold commands. He was doing his job, remaining faithful to his sworn ethics; he was being a true Brotherhood leader.

I knew that at one point, he and Danse fought side-by-side and regarded each other highly. I'd even heard Danse refer to him on a first-name basis; they'd been close, perhaps considered each other a brother beyond the Brotherhood's name. 

And yet here he was, still ordering me to kill him. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling out. Why don't you do it yourself then, asshole!? Why send me?

Maxson paused another moment, soaking in his words. Then he continued his orders. "Find Proctor Quinlan. He's been analyzing the data and should be able to provide you with a starting point. And Knight..." He met my eyes, speaking matter-of-factly. "There's a promotion for you riding on the results of these orders. So don't disappoint me."

I blinked at him, speechless. He looked me up and down one more time and, when neither agreement or protest left my throat, spoke his final words. "...You're dismissed." 

With that he turned away, refusing to look back as I stood there, trying to pick up enough pieces to get out of the command deck. Trembling, I managed to stumble my way out, suddenly wanting to be as far from this place — and that man — as possible. 

Mind buzzing, I avoided Quinlan's office with my head down, instead racing up the steps to enter the Forecastle. The second I swung open the door I let out a choked sob that had been pent up, letting the door slam shut behind me. 

I sunk to my knees, burying my head in my hands. The whistling wind was a comfort now, drowning out the cries that escaped my throat. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted to the heavens — wondering why the hell this had to happen to me. All of this. I was angry, I was bargaining to the empty air, I was spiraling — all in the matter of a few gut-wrenching minutes.