Caution: Explicit language, graphic violence, substance abuse, sexual content, sad bits, and some lols

Fury Blood

Part I:

Rumbles from beneath, whispers from beyond, power from the sky, fury from the blood. Her world shattered, Ilya Harper battles her demons with Paladin Danse at her side, testing the strength of their bond as personal struggles arise for the both of them.

But now they face a new threat beyond the Commonwealth. A new breed of raiders has formed an uprising, forcing the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel to unite. As the heated power-play between Ilya and Elder Maxson threatens to derail the alliance, so does it threaten relationships and loyalties.

Part II:

With war looming, Ilya and Danse battle their demons together, exploring the depths of their bond in their fight to support each other.

But the alliance is threatened in the aftermath of Danse's exile. Ilya and Maxson continue to clash, and without Danse to mediate them, their power-play grows more intense as their forces go to war.

The Blood Lands. They find themselves bound to a world even harsher than the Commonwealth, surrounded by the savage and bloodthirsty in the rivalry of clans, but the unearthing of long lost secrets could shift the balance of power for them all.

Chapter 1: Back to Reality

The Commonwealth air hit her face like a slap as the teleportation cast her back without ceremony. Her guts trembled in the aftershock, eyes taking a moment to refocus on reality. She was back in reality, the wastes of mankind's apocalypse, weeping from the skies with radioactive crackles of static.

She tilted her head back and let the rain spit on her face, sighing, hoping that somehow it would rinse her of her turmoil. Distant thunder droned on the wind and reminded her that nothing was peaceful here for long. But at least out here, it was all real; harsh and miserable, but real. Down there, the Institute was all just an illusion, a plastic cap one glued over their decayed tooth to pretend the problem wasn't there. Oh, Shaun, her Shaun...

Sucking in a shaky breath, the woman peered around quickly and then consulted her Pip-Boy. She had teleported herself back just outside Diamond City to pick up some supplies, and probably mull over a drink or few. She didn't talk to anyone, or even make eye contact, letting her drenched hair shield her face in a black curtain. People took notice due to her orange Brotherhood uniform, probably all wondering what business she had in the city, but they were easy to ignore due to both the storm in the sky, and in her head.

Eventually, she found herself in the Dugout Inn, murmuring an order of whiskey.

"Ilya Harper! Anything for my long lost Soviet spy!" Vadim Bobrov blared in his accented, hearty way. She only twitched a smile at him. She didn't really think of herself as Russian, despite the origin of her name. Her mother had immigrated, and she had grown up an American. She supposed Vadim was right about her being a spy, though. Working undercover as a triple agent, playing all the angles, except she really had no idea who she was playing anymore.

"Everything alright, friend?" Vadim asked in a more subdued manner as he handed her a bottle.

"Yeah," she droned out. "Fine." Wandering over to a secluded corner, she flopped into a couch and nursed the bottle, dully listening to Travis' newfound voice on the radio, something about raiders gaining a foothold somewhere. Same old.

Once the whiskey had left her company, the warmth of it lingering in her chest couldn't sate her loneliness for long. The Jet weighed heavy in her belt pocket, and without knowing how, she was in the bathroom, inhaling that heavenly dose and staring at the shattered reflection of herself through the mirror. Through the distortion, she couldn't recognise herself, a haggard, withered echo of what she once was. Dark hair limp and without its former lustre. Eyes of deep blue that she once flaunted, now bloodshot and drowned in dark circles. Lips chapped and sore. Nose peeling from sunburn. All on a gaunt face clad in dull, dry skin, but at least that skin had gathered a nice tan from all the days in the sun. Ilya sighed and just sat on the bathroom floor, revelling in the bliss of Jet.

Walking back to Sanctuary from Diamond City with a belly full of whiskey, hauling a backpack full of food, water, and ammunition, was what a certain paladin would call 'tactically irresponsible,' but he could shove it up his ass to accompany that stick. She lost track of how many hours she walked for, boots slipping through mud on multiple occasions, unaided by a drunken spatial awareness that eventually had her twist an ankle, curse loudly in anger, and draw the attention of a pack of feral ghouls.

Once her combat shotgun finished having a private word with them, she figured her paladin was probably right, after all. Ilya limped the rest of the way home with a thumping headache, the green haze of the storm seeming to turn into a blur that threatened to dredge up bile from that whiskey.

"There she is!" Ilya couldn't discern who that was as she realised her feet were stumbling through the centre of Sanctuary.

"Well, well. Look who returns." That was Deacon, she would recognise that dodgy charm anywhere. Looking up, she caught sight of him through the darkness, approaching with an easy smile, sunglasses on even at night. "Need a hand, there?"

But Ilya shook her head, dumped her gear heavily in the street, and headed straight for her shack in a numb daze. The silence around her was deafening as people stared.

"Blue?" Piper called in concern, but Ilya had already shut her door and collapsed on her bed, too tired to cry.

Dark, damp, dull. It was on days like these that she wondered why she kept it up, pushing through this rotten world with hands that had done horrors and feet that were ever weary. She had forced herself through more than she ever imagined she could, surviving the scum of the dead earth, warring with the warriors of nightmares, enduring the decrepit landscapes of her long lost life, memories now only radioactive remnants. It was all still raw, this future she found herself in, so raw it felt as if the wound would never heal. Maybe it wouldn't, maybe it would only ever grow a deformed, calloused barrier, but a barrier was better than nothing.

Her eyes followed endless raindrops as they pelted the soil outside the shack window. The wooden roof made music with the rain in soft patters, and she let it lull her to another place. Sanctuary Hills before the fallout...

Nate was humming to the radio, splayed on the sofa with baby Shaun in his lap. Both of them were just watching the rain outside, savouring the cozy warmth of their home and the aroma of fresh baking. Codsworth was dithering about in his usual manner, making the place immaculate as he accompanied Nate's humming with harmonies of his own. She had quite often caught the two of them humming away together in something of a choir.

"Mmm," Nate sniffed the air and leaned his head back over the armrest, looking at her upside-down. "Smells good, Honey."

She would have responded with something fluffy in gratitude, going on about how delicious the recipe was and how much he would love it, pretending she had made it all from scratch and that Codsworth definitely had not smuggled the premade goody box in through the bedroom window while her husband changed Shaun's nappy.

She was an ex-soldier, not a cook, and definitely not a typical housewife. Once Shaun came along, she made a go of the domestic lifestyle and settled into it rather well, with Nate bringing home the sugar bombs from his lawyers degree and earning them a comfortable income. Although her military roots always lingered in her background, she was happy, so, so happy, and she wouldn't want to change a single thing.

Shaun was making a cooing sound, learning to laugh at his father's silly faces. "Honey, come here, I think that's his first smile!"

"General?"

Her daydream was cut short by Preston's impeccable timing. Her world fell dark again, and the warmth collapsed like the bubble she had formed around herself. She sat up on her bed and peered over at his intrusion. "I told you not to call me that, remember?" It came out a little more barbed than she had meant it to.

Preston peered down at the wooden planks beneath his boots in a moment of embarrassment. "Sorry, Ilya. I guess I got more used to it than I realised. You know, everyone back at the Castle calls you general. They won't be too happy to have to give it up, that tradition is well set in them."

Ilya sighed and bit the inside of her cheek, giving him an apologetic glance. "I know, but it just isn't me."

"Fair enough, Gen— uh, Ilya. Anyway, I didn't mean to disturb you, I was just checking in. People have scrounged together a big breakfast and set up a nice campfire under the main shack canopy... in your honour, just so you know. Piper's idea..."

He fell silent after she gave only a fleeting smile in response. Piper was a good friend, and the fact that the entire settlement had banded together to do that just for her tugged at the cords deep inside, but when she searched for words, she went blank.

"You don't have to talk about whatever it was you found in the Institute, and I've asked people not to bring it up, but your friends here care about you, Ilya, you've done a lot for all of us. The moment you came back yesterday... I think everyone guessed the news about your son... We just want to help, however we can."

Ilya didn't even bother correcting him about Shaun. Dead, Director of the Institute, for all she knew it was one and the same. It was still all too much to process. Being younger than her son. Shaun. A fully grown man. More than fully grown—outgrown. Without her. Even worse, she thought he might be deluded, brainwashed by that sterile and inhuman society down there. He actually believed that what he was doing was right, was the only right. Maybe it was. Hell, she didn't even know what was right and wrong anymore, it was all growing too fuzzy, the lines between good and evil, black and white, all smearing together in a cacophony. It was so loud, and she was just standing in the middle of it all, screaming.

"If there's anything I can do..." Preston spoke quietly in her absence, pulling the door shut to leave, but she stopped him.

"Thanks, Preston. I actually think what I need is a distraction, maybe some good news. You have anything for me?"

He stopped. "Yeah, actually I have an update on that settlement that was being harassed by raiders. Hancock and the team we sent tracked the raiders down and successfully ambushed their hideout. No casualties, and they secured a weapons cache and supplied the settlers with some of the spoils. The settlers agreed to open a trading line with the Minutemen. Another win."

Nodding, Ilya heaved herself from the bed and let her smile grow genuine. "Good. That should keep Hancock off the Jet for a few days. At least until he starts to get stir-crazy again," she added while pulling on a pair of worn leather boots.

Preston shrugged and moved aside to let her through the doorway. "Stir-crazy is putting it mildly. That Ghoul is a bad look for the Minutemen, if you ask me."

"Come on, he's not that bad," Ilya chuckled. "He has his quirks, but he's a good guy."

"I'll still be keeping an eye on him, along with several other tag-alongs that keep following you home."

She gave Preston a sidelong smirk before pulling her leather hood up and stepping outside her shack. Sanctuary was getting on its feet at a more rapid pace since they had set up that recruitment beacon and named it their R&R homebase. All of the collapsed houses had been cleared and the foundations built atop with wooden or metal shacks, and Codsworth had busied himself with cleaning the streets and piling useful materials in one spot for easy access. Defence turrets had been placed at vantage points, and a generous perimeter had been set with guard posts and powered traps. Crops were tended to by settlers and the water purification system was well maintained by their resident mechanic, Sturges.

"I hope this rain lets up soon," Preston complained as they stepped out into it.

The moment her boots hit the concrete foundation beneath her shack, a small, joyous bark, followed by the excitable canine, rushed her and practically leapt up into her arms. Ilya laughed as she attempted to catch Dogmeat, though failing. Still, he jumped up again and placed two dirty paws on her shoulders as she bent to embrace him, applying his hot tongue to her cheek and whining in uncontainable glee.

"Hey, boy!" Ilya greeted, roughing up his fur and pressing her forehead to his. His big brown eyes were so adoring in that moment that she had to suppress a maternal welling in her own eyes. Shaun may have outgrown her, but she still had Dogmeat.

"He missed you like crazy," Piper stated on her approach, obviously not bothered by the rain. "Well, he wasn't the only one, but he whined a lot more than everyone else, and that's saying a lot."

"It's good to see you too, Piper," Ilya smiled. "I'm sorry about my mood last night. I just... really needed to sleep."

Deacon got in before Piper could even open her mouth to respond. "Yeah, you should be, young lady. Stomping off like that without even so much as a hello. Sheesh. Last time I ever stay up all night worrying over you."

Ilya tilted her head at him and leaned on a hip, growing a crooked smile. His lack-lustre tone belied any seriousness he could project. Really, he could be a bad liar when he wanted to be. "So you did miss me."

"Pfft,' Deacon scoffed next, recoiling his head as if revolted by the idea. "No... I only cried a little..."

His childish humour and stoner facade was the pick-me-up she needed, and she would have hugged him, were he not new to the whole friendship thing. Instead, she settled for an amused smile, which she knew made him feel accomplished.

Before long, most of her companions had come outside and crowded around to say their greetings. Only Codsworth broached the subject of Shaun, offering his condolences and seeming quite torn up over it all.

"He's not dead," Ilya finally broke the news, stunning everyone into silence. "It's... it's a long story. But Shaun's alive, and he's okay..." Saying it aloud gave clarity to that fact, and it seemed to breathe a little life back into her. "He's okay..."

"Oh, well that's just wonderful news, mum!" Codsworth beamed, his metal chassis bobbing with exuberance. "I'm so very happy for you. I do hope you will bring young Shaun to visit one day, it would mean the world to me to be able to see him with my own optics again! He must have grown so much from that tiny little bundle of joy that he was."

"He has grown a lot," Ilya mumbled distantly, staring right through Codsworth and back to Shaun's wrinkled face and grey hair.

Sensing that something was off, Piper was swift to change the subject. "We should get out of this rain. Come and get some breakfast, Blue, you must be starving." She beckoned Ilya over to the main shack, where the smell of cooking food made her stomach growl in yearning.

"I'll be there in a sec," Ilya assured, turning to Preston as the others followed Piper back inside. "Hey, uh," she began, rolling around the words in her head. "Did Danse come by here while I was gone, or... leave a message with the Minutemen, maybe?"

Preston's lip jutted in thought for a moment before a frown grew. "No, not that I know of. Why? Wouldn't he just be waiting on the Prydwen for you to report back?"

"Yeah, most likely," Ilya nodded it off with a false cool. But as she fell in behind Preston for the shack, that cool fell down as quickly as she had pulled it up. Maybe he was too busy with the Brotherhood, or maybe he just wasn't that worried about her at all.

A/N: I switched up the male/female SS history canon, just because I thought it would make more sense for Ilya to be so combat-focused in this fanfic.

-I'm no good at writing short stories, so this will eventually be a long one. Please bear with me, and I hope you enjoy!