"The original names just keep coming, don't they," said Dean as they passed one of Diamond City's guards, who was dressed to the nines in umpire's gear.
"Any name isn't all that original when you think about it," said Piper, giving the cold shoulder to a curious guard, who actually waited his turn to talk to her. "Who were you named after?"
Dean grunted and refrained from explaining that the honor of bearing his grandmother's name was different from a point-and-name. "I think he wants to talk to us."
"They always want to talk to me," she said. "Or anyone passing by." She peered into the guard's mask. "Ah, hey there, Ollie, come to comment on my guest's power armor, or remind me that the mayor has another 'I'm not a synth' speech scheduled for tonight?"
"Uh, the power armor, Piper." Ollie looked Danse up and down. "They're noisy pieces, and this one's got the Brotherhood stamp on it."
Piper looked to the sky and sighed with a growl. "Come on, Ollie. You've met Danse before, and we have a power armor station in the market!"
"Look." Ollie leaned in, away from the prying eyes of a security guard who lacked the privacy of a helmet. Dean figured he was some kind of leader. "Danny's been on edge about the Brotherhood lately."
Piper put a hand on her hip. "He's come in with Blue before."
"The Vault Dweller recently made it on the Mayor's 'Okay to Roam' list."
Piper's brows softened. "Really? She wasn't on it before?"
"I don't know what goes on there, okay? I just get my orders and I keep my head down and do my job. Guy's gotta eat, Piper." He turned toward Danse. "You're gonna need to step out of your armor before you head in, Paladin. We'll keep it safe out here. Follow me to storage."
Danse nodded. Piper seemed surprised at that, but Dean figured Danse was the honorable sort. Dean, on the other hand, probably wouldn't've relinquished all that protection, considering this place was a huge unknown, but knowing Danse had enough trust in them to step out of his armor eased Dean's doubts.
"Storage? That new?"
"I'm surprised you didn't know," said Ollie.
Piper grumbled. "Whatever. This guy's clear to come in?"
"One second," said Ollie. He motioned to a fenced off area and ushered Danse inside. After a few hydraulic sounds, Ollie stepped out with a de-suited Danse and sealed the room. "You're clear to enter with your guests, Piper."
She shrugged her brows. "Thanks."
The fence gate guarding the city welcomed them with a squeak, and they ascended the entrance to the stadium, only to descend into an impressive shack city that didn't appear to sleep, despite the rain. Late night walkers rushed between roofs, holding the brims of their hats or making hats out of scrap metal.
This place, this place, now this was a cool place. Sanctuary Hills was neat, organized, well-protected and well-maintained, but this place had charm, and not just because it was protected by a gigantic baseball stadium. Aside from the pre-war shape of the stands, it lacked symmetry, and nothing matched. It was like a dive bar had blossomed into a settlement. It had a real blue-collar feel, and damn, unless Danse made a real good case at this point, yeah, Dean and Sammy could settle here if they had to.
"It'll look better in the morning," said Piper, pushing him away from his perch. "In here." She took them into the first major structure at the bottom of the steps, where a charming sign reading "Publick Occurrences" hung proudly. She shushed them as she unlocked the door. Inside, she nodded to the sofa, and stepped into the back of the building, where she spoke in a hushed whisper to someone with a young voice. Dean figured he owed Piper an apology for anything stupid he might've said or done during the trip, because he knew that tone of voice, for he had often used it himself with Sam.
She came out of the makeshift room, and gestured for them to stay while she went up the wooden steps. A dresser drawer opened and shut, and she returned to them in different, drier attire, holding her coat and hat, which she hung on one of two nails sticking out from a wooden buttress.
"Sorry about the accommodations," she whispered. "If you can manage, you can share the bed upstairs. Just don't get all that feral goop on it, and don't go through my files."
Dean took off his coat and hung it beside hers. "What about that detective?"
"Well, I'm sure he's up, but I'm exhausted and cold. We can sleep for a few hours. I'll set an alarm so we don't waste time." She hid a yawn behind her palm, then nodded at the kid's room. "I'll be here. Try not to make a lot of noise?" She aimed the question at Danse.
"No problem," said Dean. Danse nodded, and allowed Dean up the stairs first. They set down their things, each rifling for something a little cleaner and drier. The bag Dean had gotten in Sanctuary had a faulty zipper, unbeknownst to him, and it had let in enough rain to soak his extra t-shirt. He unfolded it with a whoosh and hung it from a door handle to dry. At least the pants are fine, he thought, thinking it rude to sleep in boxers when sharing a mattress with a stranger. There were a few damp spots by the ankles, but those would dry quickly. Danse made a similar appraisal of his own clothing, but at least his fit. Dean'd had to settle for a pair of jeans one size too big, because nothing else had been available at the time, though the one lady-what was her name? Anne Something?-had told him she could have a good pair his way if he could wait another day.
"I'll take the wall," Dean said, sitting on the bed. A shiver ran down his back. Could he sleep without a shirt? There were no blankets here, and he expected blankets in a city, even a city like this, because Sanctuary had blankets and it seemed like this place wasn't that worse off than them.
"Here, Dean." Danse handed him a rolled up blanket. He'd dressed in another uniform, this one a little lighter and lacking a cap. Probably to be prepared, Dean figured, because that's what he and Sam sometimes did too.
"Thanks, man." Dean unfurled the blanket, definitely a military issue, and not unlike something you'd find in a sporting goods store. It would do. "Next beer's on me."
"It might be a while until I'm off-post," Danse said, sitting on the edge of the large, naked mattress. "But the sentiment is understood. Thank you."
"No problem."
The two men settled into their respective halves of the bed, and Dean's next memory arrived at dawn. A light-not quite dim, not quite bright, but brushed in that early-morning gray-blue-poked through a hole in the wall he faced, and the air had that fresh-dew smell to it. He wasn't even sure if dew were a thing here, because he'd never really paid attention, but he knew it was morning in its earliest form. He shifted onto his back, listening for any sign of disruption in Danse's sleeping. His eyes adjusted, and he caught Danse in the corner of his eye. Danse was wide awake, on his back, his hands folded melancholy in his lap.
"Did I keep you up?" Dean asked quietly, aware that Piper and whoever she shared a room with were not buzzing downstairs.
"It's nothing," said Danse. "I haven't slept well in a long time."
"Why not?"
"Headaches, vivid and...strange dreams. Nothing can be done for it, so I cherish the short naps and continue to keep my body on a soldier's schedule."
"Nothing? Not even sleeping pills?" Dean scrunched his face. "Wait, do you guys have sleeping pills here?"
"I've tried herbal supplements, but so far, nothing works. It is alright. Continue to sleep. I might find my next nap soon."
Dean nodded and wiggled his back into his spot. He yearned for the comfort of the Impala after sleeping on this thing. Damn it, he couldn't even think about Baby. Someone had probably stolen it by now.
He reached up to massage a knot from his neck. Maybe Danse can't sleep because this place is littered with shitty mattresses. Perhaps the Brotherhood wasn't the place to head to, if this was an ongoing problem. Sanctuary's mattresses had a little more comfort to them. Blankets and pillows too.
Something tugged on a memory. "A few years ago, Sam was getting these wicked headaches."
Danse turned on his side. "Does he still get them?"
"No, not those."
"What did he do for them?"
"Well, turns out there was something else inside of him. He'd get these flashes of people, other people, and knew what was going to happen to them. We ran into a couple of other kids his age who had the same problem. They'd all been...infected, I guess, by this yellow-eyed demon."
"This problem began long before our worlds collided, Dean. I doubt it is the work of a demon. Longfellow's team established the portal had closed."
"I didn't mean to say it like that. What I meant was that for a long time, it seemed like it fell outside of the realm of what we knew, of general health stuff, you know, like drinking water or sleeping in the right bed..." Shit. He hoped Piper hadn't heard that. "And other things we knew, the supernatural things. Once we found the cause, we had to keep Sammy-Sam-away from it. It ended up giving him these abilities, and it was like this drug. He thought he needed it to do good in this-er, our-world."
"I refrain from chems," said Danse. "Have never seen the appeal. However, one of our scribes, one in my team, she worked with me to track my diet. We found no correlation."
"I dunno, I'm just saying it might be where you least expect it. Maybe that armor isn't so good for your body, or the battery or whatever it is. Just don't give up hope. Don't say nothing can be done, because something can always be done, believe me."
"Sounds like you'd do whatever it takes to protect your brother."
"You have no idea." Dean sighed through his nose. The light through that little hole grew brighter. "You'll find a way."
"I feel like all options have been exhausted."
"Have you tried...uh, you know..." Dean curled his hand and made a pumping gesture, then realized Danse probably couldn't see it clearly in this light.
"I know...?"
"Taking care of business?"
"What business?"
"Your business? Getting a little satisfaction?"
"I believe in respecting the ranks of the Brotherhood."
"Okay, so you can't be with someone there, but you know, take a little shore leave, maybe? We can hit the bar here in town, I know there's got to be a bar in a place like this, and if not, then you've gotta, you know, release those endorphins."
"This has been recommended to me, but I find myself without privacy on these missions."
"Well there you go." Dean gave him a congratulatory pat. "See, the answer could be where you don't think. Trust me, we'll hit the town after seeing this detective, and I'll be your wingman."
"My...wingman?"
"Yeah, your wingman. I've got a knack for this kinda thing." He flopped toward Danse. "Wait, this world has condoms, right? That's essential."
"We have protection."
"Not expired, pre-nuke ones, right?"
"No. These can be assembled on the spot by specific or modified robots."
"No need for an assembly line?" That meant they were expensive. "They cost much?"
"You'll have to talk to the doctors."
"You'll have to talk to the doctors," Dean reminded him. He patted Danse's arm again. "Try to rest up. We're gonna have one helluva night."
"What about your friend?"
"A bar's the best place to start. Not to sound pathetic or anything, but he knows that Sam and I'd probably show up there eventually, and the guy can put away drinks like you wouldn't believe."
"Good, as long as we can pair this...unusual method of healing with recon, I'll be acting within my duties."
"There you go, positive attitude! I like it. Alright man, I'm gonna try and catch some more Zs before we start the next part of this mission. Good night slash morning."
"Sleep well."
Dean turned over, closed his eyes, but sleep never came. He felt rude, a feeling he rarely felt, about sleeping while a dude as cool as Danse was struggling to sleep. It could've been that tucked away question, the "what if we get stuck here?" that Sam had been hoping Dean would compromise on.
He turned back to Danse. "Does the Brotherhood have any places like this?"
"No," said Danse. "Not in the Commonwealth."
"Why's that?"
Danse paused. "What I can tell you is that we do not invade. We've asked leaders of settlements to make agreements with us, mainly to become a source of important supplies such as food and water, and we have been rejected."
"Is that why you keep the General around?"
"I keep her around because she's an incredible soldier, and I am following orders. As for the Brotherhood's intentions, I do not know. It would be prudent of them to consider her power as General of the Minutemen and her sway over these settlements, however, I doubt she would relinquish that control."
"So what do you all do to have fun around here?"
"Some of the soldiers enjoy massacring feral ghouls and other abominations, though I believe this is to gain the favor of Elder Maxson."
Dean figured he could ask who that was later. "So no one just likes to sit, have a beer, eat a burger, maybe watch a game?"
"A game of chess?"
Dean chuckled, then covered his mouth. This shack had a way of carrying sound. "Dude, chess? I mean like baseball. Some of the field here has to be used for that still, right? This place is iconic where I'm from. Ain't a soul in America that doesn't know the Red Sox."
"Do you mean sport? Soldiers have push-up competitions, or wrestle. Sometimes they watch wild dogs attack each other."
"Dog fighting? That's fucked up, man."
"I don't condone it, I am merely answering your question."
"So that's it around here?"
"If it's billiards or other sports you want, you'd have to sneak into raider territory," said Danse, "which is both suicidal and dishonorable."
Dean propped himself on his elbow. "What kind of things are we talking about?"
"Robot racing rather close to the Prydwen," Danse said.
"That's not so bad."
"Even if you don't account for the raiders who control the track, the use of such technology for entertainment stands on a line, as far as the Brotherhood is concerned."
"Okay, but is that really the worst? 'Cause dog fighting and killing for the fun of it seems pretty bad to me."
"The soldiers consider the latter extermination."
"Right, but even I know that the things that make the job fun should still probably stick with the job."
"I don't disagree with you. Soldiers like that often don't move up in rank. Their bloodlust could become a liability in the future."
"Smart."
"I agree." It looked like Danse offered an awkward smile, but it was hard to tell, even in the fading darkness. "The only other major sport I know of in the Commonwealth is the fighting ring in the Combat Zone. Knight Nora shut that mostly down, but there have been rumors it started up again."
"What did they do, fight to the death?"
"It wasn't exactly frowned upon." Danse paused. "Cait was a fighter there."
"Hang on a second, Cait was a raider?" Sam is with her, Dean thought. Woulda been nice to know that before we left Sanctuary.
"A slave to raiders. Knight Nora took over her contract and promptly released her from bondage."
"Jeez."
"Indeed."
Dean scratched his neck. The light outside had become a tad brighter, taking on a yellow hue. "So what about consultants? You guys work with them ever?"
"Are you considering working for the Brotherhood of Steel?"
"Just trying to weigh our options, just in case, ya know?"
"Understood. Just know that the Brotherhood is not an employer. We are a commitment, though I suppose a case could be made to Elder Maxson, given your skills."
"That's what I'm saying. Sam and I, we kind of do this stuff back home, the things you've talked about. Not the dog fighting or whatever, but the research, the fighting monsters, figuring out what we can use to best solve a case. But we don't go in with squads. It's just us hitting the pavement and getting the job done to make people's lives better."
"Do you work alone, or as part of an organization?"
"It's a little of both. We were raised as hunters, but then we found out our grandfather was part of the Men of Letters. So now we operate mostly out of this bunker instead of libraries and motel rooms. Don't get me wrong, we still need to tear ass across the country to solve cases, but now we've got a base. Anything important we find out on the road we bring back. We didn't always have that before." Well, when Bobby was alive, but that was another story, preferably shared over a few beers. "Baby's trunk was getting a little full for a while there."
"Baby's trunk?"
"My, uh, our car. We've kinda lived in it since we were kids."
"A mobile base of operations."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"It does sound like you have a familiarity with the kinds of things the Brotherhood does," Danse said. He rubbed his head. "If you need to make a decision, I will be happy to support you. Just let me know."
"Thanks, Danse."
"You're welcome." He peered at the small hole in the wall. "It looks like you have approximately one hour left to rest. You should take it."
"Only if you try to sleep too."
Danse cracked a smile. "Alright, I'll try." He settled into the bed. "Good night, slash morning, Dean."
"Night-morning, Danse."