Those We Lose

Whatever caused our fates to intertwine would never let them unravel.

Present Day, 2287

Southern Commonwealth

The Power Armor--all the dull, stripped pieces that remained--was melted thick into the ground. Useless and reduced to junk, not even the salvageable kind that could be sold for caps either.

"At least she did one thing right." Paladin Danse grumbled. He resented the sight of the suit. It had once been his, and he remembered when the steel on it shined bright as chrome. How smoothly the joints in it moved about! It had been custom-made and outfitted with all the best upgrades, a gift from Elder Maxson himself.

Now, it was nothing.

The Field Scribe approached.

"What is it, Scribe Haylen?"

"There was a holotape in the ruins, sir. It belonged to the Deserter."

He turned away from the suit, regarding her more seriously. "Have you reviewed its contents?"

She averted her eyes with a nod. Holotapes often contained personal thoughts, hidden desires, and stowed dreams. As a scribe, Haylen had read and logged the accounts of many in her line of work. However, this one embarrassed her with a prying shame, probably because it spoke of the Paladin standing before her.

He saw the heat on her cheeks. "At ease, soldier. It was a long time ago."

She squared her shoulders and braved a look into his light brown eyes. He was right, it was a long time ago. The latest entry in the tape was dated at least two and a half years ago. She handed it to him. "I'll leave it with you. In case you want to review it."

"Thank you, Scribe Haylen." His eyes honed in on an abandoned shack ahead like targeted lasers. A radiation storm was moving in, they would need cover and time to prepare this evidence to send back to the Elder.

He flagged the squad with his hand. "We camp there tonight. Clear it." He looked to scribe Haylen. "Get evidence of this destroyed T-60 so we can send it back to Elder Maxson."

"Yes, Paladin."

The building was empty, save for a couple ferals that were dispatched with. As his squad began to lay their heads, Paladin Danse took the first fire-watch shift. He had trouble sleeping anyway and didn't mind the time for quiet reflection and strategizing. After the storm passed and everyone was as deeply asleep as soldiers can allow themselves to be, Danse plugged the holotape into Haylen's traveling terminal to listen to it.

He could hear the entries in the Deserter's voice, as if she were clutching his arm the way she used to so long ago and speaking freely. It struck him with unwelcome, painful memories.

"I've run out of Fusion Power Cores. Food and water is depleting rapidly. Dogmeat's nose leads us further into the Commonwealth. I'm not sure how I'll survive out there without the Power Armor. I've taken a nasty enough beating with it on. Its dangerous here, I could be over my head. Screw it, I am over my head. But, I can't quit. Astrid is out here... somewhere. Dead or alive, I'm going to bring her home. I'll destroy the armor, the least I can do is not let it get into anyone's hands. After today, the last thing that physically tied me to the Brotherhood is gone. I wonder if they will ever forgive me? Part of me hopes they will understand, but it doesn't surprise me if they never will. After what happened to Cutler, it's clear where they stand. Not even Danny questioned what he did... If I die out here, I die true to myself, believing in my mission, a soldier's honorable death. I just hope my dog will be okay. He stays at my side, always watching my six. He's so loyal, maybe too loyal. I hate to think of him defending my corpse from mongrels and ferals. But, he's smart. He'll know when the mission is over for me. Maybe he'll finish it and find Astrid himself. I should attach a note to his collar, just in case."

His mind spun and he relived the very last time he'd seen her, shortly after Astrid's disappearance. It was all too familiar, so much like what happened with Cutler. He knew it, but he couldn't draw the comparison--he wouldn't--because he knew that she knew it, too and it would kill her. He found her in the forecastle of the Prydwen, the cold wind striking the tears out of her eyes. He wanted to be there for her the way she'd been there for him when he stood alone in despair after losing Cutler.

I should have held her.

An eery and painful thought. He closed his eyes to force it away, but instead he found himself in the crow's nest again. His hands locked behind his back, gripping the thin railing that stood between him and a long fall. Her body was pushing against him, her lips pressed on his, wet and stained with tears.

And he went still, rigid, like stone. It was as though he died at that moment, and the resurrection never happened. It wasn't that he didn't want it, he'd thought of it before and desired it, but suddenly presented with it, he couldn't react. It seemed inappropriate, given the circumstances. There was a question rolling from her mouth, thick and heavy, into his. It asked for an affirmation, for a promise, one that he wasn't sure he could give.

Then his hands were tied up.

He had blinked, unable to breathe for a second, then he struggled, bound tight at the wrists. "Untie me."

She stared back, her sad eyes dark and resolute.

"That is an order, soldier! Untie me. Now!"

She shook her head and caressed the side of his face with her soft, soft hand. "I love you." She said. "I've loved you for a very long time. And I love the brotherhood. I love going to battle with you, training with you, and watching you be you... but none of it more than I love my sister."

Then she was gone, like a wisp of wind. He struggled to break the ties on his own and go after her, but he couldn't get out. It was two hours before another knight found him in that humiliating state, yelling in rage to be freed. She had stolen his power armor, emptied her foot locker and raided the mess hall. Gone.

The thought wormed and twisted in his head again. I should have held her.

If he'd have held her, she wouldn't have been able to trap him. She wouldn't have humiliated him and the Brotherhood and gotten away. She wouldn't be alone. She'd most certainly be alive and healthy. She may have even been in Recon Squad Gladius, now. She'd have been his right-hand, the most intelligent Field Scribe in the Brotherhood, and a capable soldier to boot.

I should have held her close, and never let go.