The Price of Duty

Danse sat there, deep in contemplation and reflection over the events that had transpired over the last 48 hours. In a heartbeat, Danse had gone from a high-ranking Brotherhood officer to being in the same rank and file as his enemies.

Not long after his partner, Knight Samantha Winters, had left him to watch over the nuke stockpile in the Sentinel Site, he had received a message over an encrypted channel from Scribe Haylin. It had been alarming that she had chosen to contact him in such a secretive manner, so he accepted her call, fearing the worst. Like always, his gut instincts had been right.

Thankfully, Haylin had been assigned to the scribe team responsible for deciphering and transcribing the information that Sam had stolen when she infiltrated the institute. It had now come to light that Danse was a synth, simply dubbed M7-97. He didn't believe it at first and had grown angry with Haylin for such an outrageous accusation but after she confirmed the news with a DNA sample, Danse began to panic. After telling Haylin to never contact him again and to forget that he even existed, he went to hang up his side of the radio transmission but not before he heard a soft sob come through from Haylin's side. Danse apologised and wished his dear friend good luck in her future before he removed his helmet and crushed it underneath his armoured boot, severing the radio connection, and by extension, tracking capabilities of the Brotherhood.

Once Danse had reached the surface, he simply forgot any logical thought and left his body run on auto-pilot while his subconscious tried to make sense of his newly established identity crisis. While Danse desperately didn't want to believe the news, things had now begun to make sense to him. Like for instance, the earliest memories that he had was when he had opened the Junk shop back in Rivet City with Cutler. Why couldn't he remember his childhood? Or his home? Or even his family? Up until now, Danse had justified his lapse in memory with how the Brotherhood was his family now, The Citadel and the Prydwen his home, and that his childhood didn't require remembering. Danse's usual clear lines of thought had become fuzzy and he couldn't make sense of anything. It wasn't until much later that Danse realised that he was standing outside Listening Post Bravo. Deciding that it was an appropriate place to await his demise at Arthur's hands, Danse stepped out of his Power Armour and stood back. Grabbing a stone by his feet, Danse brought it up high and drew it down across the Brotherhood's insignia that he had carefully painted on the chest-plate. Once the paint was successfully scratched off, Danse ripped off his officer's uniform like it had begun to burn his skin on contact. Opening a storage compartment within his armour, Danse pulled out a bottle of Whiskey that Sam had demanded he keep on him in cases of celebration. He doused the clothing in the heavy liquor before he drank the rest and threw the glass onto a nearby hill. Following that, Danse grabbed a book of matches and two photographs that he also kept within the compartment.

One photo was of a much younger and less battle-worn Danse and Cutler, their arms thrown over each other's shoulders on the day that they had first opened the Junk Store. Danse looked at how happy his former self had been, and he wished deeply that he could go back to those days of laughter and youthful arrogance. Danse looked at Cutler then, thankful that whatever merciless bastard had made him, had at least left him with the memories of the one person he could claim to be family. Danse loved Cutler like a brother and the two of them were as thick as thieves, often going on scrap runs for one of the resident scientists, a man by the name of James. In fact, he could remember Abraham Washington and his museum of American History or Flak and his vast weapon stores. Danse began to feel sick that he was simply delving through a dead man's memory and in a huff of disgust, he threw the photo on top of the burning uniform.

The second photo was of himself and the then, Initiate Sam Winters. It was after they had returned from Arcjet and Danse had officially made Sam part of recon squad Gladius. She had salvaged a camera from the ruin and simply wanted a photo with her new group of friends. Haylin had jumped at the chance, saying that the atmosphere of the police station had to lighten up, while Rys simply groaned, complaining that the newest recruit was simply wasting their time. Thankfully, Sam had convinced Danse that the photo was a good idea and the Paladin ordered Rys to join them in the photo. Rys stood stock straight in the photo, with his hands joined behind his back and Haylin had Sam in a chokehold whilst they both were laughing loudly. Sadly, it wasn't until the film was developed that Sam realised that due to the height of Danse's armour, it was only from his neck down that he was in the frame, but Danse appreciated the photo regardless and kept it close, inside the compartment. Danse went to throw the picture on top of what was now simply cinders, but he realised that he simply couldn't. It began to physically hurt when he'd think of throwing the photo away, so he decided to keep it and headed deep underground inside the listening post, awaiting the angel of death that he was certain would be wearing a leather jacket and almost permanent scowl. Sadly, he was wrong. Very wrong.

After setting up some outer defences, Danse retreated inside the bunker and awaited his executioner. Some few hours later, Danse heard the tell-tale signs that someone had finally shown up. The turret was taken out with a precise .50 calibre shot and the Protectron was simply hacked and shut down. When Danse heard the elevator being called up, he made no attempt to hinder it and began thinking who it could be that Arthur sent for his head. It was too calm for it to have been Arthur himself, and anyway Danse would have been able to hear the ten suits of Power Armour that made up the Elder's honour guard, if their esteemed Elder had decided to attend his friend's execution. The lift was now coming down and Danse swallowed hard. He may be a robot, but he still feared death.

Danse sat there, defenceless, and unarmed. He knew what awaited him once those doors opened and now he found himself thinking of someone that become very important to him, and that person was Sam Winters. Danse could remember every mission they went on together. Each close call that they narrowly avoided. Each lecture that he had given his subordinate on how to properly conduct herself on a battlefield and every lecture that he had received back telling him to ungraciously 'pull the stick out of his ass and lighten up'. Danse would be lying if he said that he wouldn't miss her. Their professional relationship had become a close relationship between two friends, and Danse had hoped that if she managed to reach the rank of Paladin someday, that they'd have been able to have a romantic relationship as well. Danse could feel his chest constrict every time he had to help Sam go in to see Knight-Captain Cade for a bullet wound or if she needed the rads flushed out of her system. Her ferocity in battle was inspiring as she would eliminate her enemies in an efficient fashion and just like Danse had predicted, she made a prime example of the perfect Brotherhood soldier, despite only joining roughly three months ago. She was his partner, and Danse had abandoned her to face the wrath of Arthur Maxson alone. Maxson probably assumed that Sam knew about Danse being a synth and it scared him to think of what vicious torture she could be being subjected to. Danse felt an intense anger burn inside him but he knew that he wouldn't get near the Prydwen and would probably be killed before he even reached the perimeter gate.

The elevator doors shuddered open and Danse hung his head, awaiting his grizzly fate. He could hear the boot crunching on the loose stones, and it was getting closer.

"Danse! Paladin Danse! You here?!" Danse heard them shout. He recognized the voice immediately and the fact that Arthur had sent her to be his executioner was a clear sign that the long years of friendship between himself and the Elder were long forgotten. Danse slowly rose to his full height from where he was crouched on the floor and tried to look Sam in the eyes. Danse couldn't bring himself to do it however, he was too ashamed with who he was, what he was, and how he had acted with the news. Danse expected to just get a rifle slug right between the eyes, but when Sam knocked him down with a hard slap, it took Danse a few minutes to come back to reality.

Looking up, Danse's vision had begun to get clearer and all he could think of was that Death looked stunning. Sam's eyes held a ferocious anger, but the brunette tresses running down her face looked as beautiful as ever. She was wearing the leather Jacket that she had stolen from Kellogg's limp corpse, his 44. was hanging from her hip and Danse recognized the rifle in her hands because it had always been on her. Sam looked every part the Brotherhood soldier or rugged Wasteland Survivor and Danse couldn't have been prouder of her. Sam had come a long way since the frightened housewife he once knew her as. Danse tried once again to stare into Sam's eyes but felt as though he would burn up in the fury contained within. Danse stood up then, dropped his hands by his side, and awaited his fate once again. Once again to Danse's surprise, Sam threw her rifle to the floor, followed by her pistol and Jacket. She stood there, fists raised, while wearing only a white tank top, grey trousers and boots, having taken off her armour as well. Danse would have been lying if he said that he hadn't tried to stare at the small piece of exposed cleavage, but he felt horrible with himself afterwards.

"Fight me!" Sam screamed. Danse just stared at her in disbelief. While Danse would commend her fighting spirit and high level of stamina, Sam had never even come close to defeating Danse in the sparring ring back aboard the Prydwen. Danse couldn't see any point in delaying the inevitable and refused to lift his hands.

"Knight Winters? What is the point of all this? Just do what you were ordered to do and return to your duties. I'm sorry for putting you through all this, but if I must die at the hands of my peers, there's no one I'd rather kill me than you. At least the last thing I get to see down here in the dark is a ray of beautiful sunshine." Danse said, his head still hung low. There was silence, followed by a shriek of frustration and rage. Danse was about to look up, but he was then punched again and knocked down a second time.

"Knight Winters!? What the hell is with that! What about Sam or Sammy? Was all that time that we spent together, just like a job to you?! Are we friends or not! Now stand up and FIGHT ME! I WILL NOT KILL SOMEONE WHO IS DEFENCELESS!" Sam ordered. Danse had to try and clear the cobwebs from his vision because that last punch left him disorientated. Danse stood up slowly and watched as Sam pulled two pairs of Brass Knuckles out of her rucksack.

"Sa...Sam? What are you doing? I'm unarmed, defenceless… isn't this a bit excessive?" Danse pleaded.

"I'm trying to knock some fucking sense into that thick head of yours! Now brace yourself…" Sam said, before she gave Danse an uppercut to the chin, knocking him back. Danse stumbled a bit before he regained his footing. Danse was getting sick of these jabs and decided that if Sam wanted a fight, then he'd give her one.

"Alright then Sam. Come on and tell me! What is all this about?! I am the enemy and you are honour bound to the Elder to carry out his wishes. You are bound by duty to kill me!" Danse shouted as he swung at his old partner. Sam ducked beneath the swing effortlessly and took a jab at his shoulder. It hurt to even swing his arms at her, but he'd abide by her wishes.

"This is about you, leaving me, to face Arthur's wrath! I talked to Haylin, who was in tears I might add, who told me where I might find you. She told me that you ordered her to forget you even existed! What the hell kind of thing is that to tell a friend! You say that you are an enemy of the Brotherhood, that you are a cold, emotionless machine… And yet you RAN when you were SCARED! I would run from my mom when I was scared! It is a normal biological response!" Sam shouted as she dodged another swing.

"I have not and will not EVER put the brotherhood in danger! I will not allow the Institute to use me to hurt my Brother's and Sister's! I am now one of those dangers and if you will not kill me, then I will do so myself! It is my duty, to myself, to my fellow soldiers, and to my elder!" Danse said, blocking a blow from Sam.

"Screw your duty! Duty is just another word for suicide for people like you! You say that you're doing the right thing, taking the high road in a world where people favour the easier options! But all you do is kill who you used to be and end up making the world a worse place for your absence!" Sam shouted back. Danse dropped his guard momentarily, and Sam took the chance to punch him once again in the jaw and after she knocked him down, Sam began to straddle his chest to keep Danse pinned beneath her. Danse really didn't like the amount of times that he'd been knocked down in the last hour, but he couldn't help but think on what Sam had been saying. Looking at her now, Sam seemed to have run out of fuel. Her head hung low, and Sam was pounding on his chest, each punch getting softer and softer until she just stopped and burst out in anguished tears.

"Sam? What's wrong? Seriously? Tell me… please?" Danse asked, hating seeing his close friend be so depressed.

"It's the price of that damn 'duty' of yours. Nate was the same, back before the Great War. The second it became available, Nate ran off to play soldier, saying it was a manner of his civil duty to protect his homeland but I knew different. Always going on about his grandfather fighting in the second world war… It was almost like he felt he had to prove himself. There were plenty of ways that he could have helped at home in the USA, and be able to stay home and help his pregnant wife. But nope! Ran off to a battlefield and came back a mere shell of the man he was when he left. Sure, he had medals to display on the wall, but the fun, goofy man that I had fallen in love with and married, had died back in those trenches. Now here you are doing the damn same thing! Killing yourself just because you feel you should. But what about the rest of us? Do we deserve to see the people we care about, die?" Sam said. The fury seemed to have burned out in her eyes and now she just looked very tired.

"I'm sorry Sam… I didn't realise. Believe me, I don't want to die, but I know that if I so much as show my head down at the airport, Arthur would dive right off the flight deck and attempt to kill me. My life is over, I've nothing left…" Danse said, solemnly. Sam slipped off Danse and lay there beside him, her eyelids drooped as her body craved some rest. Danse couldn't stop himself from staring at her. Despite being over 200 years old, and having a scar running alongside her left eye, the years had been kind to her as her face still showed how young she was. Her body was toned and showed very little body fat. She seemed to have paid attention to Danse when they had trained before. His eyes travelled down along her body to her toned legs and stopped when he laid eyes on the sheath of her combat knife that must have fallen off during the fight. Danse picked up the knife and considered his options.

Sam would obviously be distraught over his death, Haylin as well, it would seem. Rys would probably gratefully put a bullet in Danse's head, his loyalty to the Order ran so deep it almost rivalled Danse's. Arthur would probably commend the Institute for programming their robots to have some common sense. It was funny though, how no matter how loud his conscience told him to bury the blade in his chest, something also stopped him from doing it. After roughly an hour of debating his options and still not being able to come to a conclusion, Danse threw the blade away in sheer frustration. As the blade clunk against something, the noise seemed to wake Sam, who Danse hadn't realised fall asleep beside him. Danse still felt horrible about Sam and the position she was in. God knows when he had to kill Cutler, it stung deep, regardless of if he was a super mutant or not. Turning to lie on his side, Danse stared at Sam again.

"Why Sammy? Why didn't you just kill me? If Arthur suspects you or harbouring me, or helping me, he'd burn your name from the Codex in a heartbeat. I can't let that happen, I'm not worth it." Danse whispered. Sam didn't say anything. Sighing, Sam just scooted closer to Danse and she was now so close, Danse could smell the plain soap from the Prydwen in her hair. What surprised Danse though, was when he could feel Sam press her lips up against his own. His eyes opened wide in surprise, and the soldier froze. When Sam broke away, and saw the guy totally paralysed, she laughed loudly. The beautiful sound of her laughter pulled Danse from his stupor and rather than look surprised, he just stared at Sam in disbelief. Almost as though his senses were lying to his brain.

"Because I love you, you bastard. That's why I couldn't kill you. That's why I was so angry with Arthur when he ordered your execution. When I heard that you suddenly went to ground, I knew that the only way I could save you would be to act like the ideal soldier and, I promised to hunt you down mercilessly. Haylin overheard me talking to Quinlan and burst into his office and tackled me to the ground, shouting that I'd have died if not for you helping me. I couldn't break cover and defend you, so Quinlan had Haylin thrown in the holding cells for attacking a superior officer. I talked to her afterward and she apologised. It was then that she told me about this place. You've some fan there, Paladin." Sam explained. After Sam's confession, the confused look on Danse's face just got bigger. This got another laugh out of Sam but Danse just looked depressed.

"It's just M7-97 now. I'm a civilian now. If we hadn't already discovered and eliminated the railroad, I suggest joining them. Since that's no longer an option, I might go back home to Rivet City in D.C. With the Prydwen here, there's no safe place for me here anymore. By the way, I feel as though I should thank you." Danse said. Now Sam looked depressed, but let Danse continue.

"Why would you thank me? I'm the one who killed you. It's because of me wanting to find Shaun that allowed the Brotherhood to attain the information which condemned you. If anything, I'm angry with myself because even when I found Shaun, I didn't find my baby, I found a monster with twisted ideals and a god complex. When he referred to Nate, despite how much of a bastard he was, as collateral damage… I knew there was no soul left in that man, despite our relation to one another." Sam said, solemnly. Danse leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"It's the love that you've shown me that's allowed me to keep living. I wondered what would stop me whenever I'd attempt to take my own life, and it turns out that no matter what I am, I love you too and I'd do anything to keep you in my life. Would you join me in going to D.C? You could ask Arthur to transfer you to the Citadel? I'd resume my junk stall in Rivet City… What do you think?" Danse pleaded. It broke Sam's heart because he seemed desperate.

"Danse, you know I can't. I have responsibilities here, to both the Minutemen and the Brotherhood. Now I must also try and stop my son from enslaving the entire Commonwealth… Geez, that never gets any easier to say. I'm always thinking about how life would be different if they had never kidnapped Shaun. I mightn't have ever met you Danse, and I know that this is dreadfully selfish, but in my heart, I believe that to be a fair trade. By the way, do you not have any first name?" Sam asked, wrapping her arms around Danse's broad chest. Despite only wearing his underwear, it was impressive just how warm the man was. It was an underestimated comfort to Sam.

"Well, I've never thought about it. For as long as I can remember, I've been known as Danse, or Initiate, or Knight, the list goes on. Even Cutler just knew me as Danse. As for Shaun, I'm terribly sorry about that. It must hurt to know that you must kill your own child. Those bastards in the Institute… they just play God all day long, not caring about the consequences or the people that they hurt in the process. I wish that I'd be able to join the charge on the Institute but, I'm just happy to have been able to be a cog in the Brotherhood's war machine. My absence won't change anything, a cog can always be replaced." Danse said, hugging Sam back. Suddenly a thought came to Sam.

"Act- Wait… Do you smell that?" Sam asked. Danse lifted his nose into the air and inhaled, instantly regretting it.

"It smells like gas! Sure look! When I threw your knife, I must have punctured a canister. C'mon hurry! We've to get out of here!" Danse shouted. Sam grabbed her weapons and Jacket before following Danse into the elevator. As the elevator lifted, both Sam and Danse thanked whatever higher power was listening for the miracle of fresh, irradiated air.

"Matt! That's what your first name will be. It kinda fits in with that M7-97 crap and it suits you. Now I have a plan and it should keep you safe." Sam said, as the elevator opened once again. Stepping outside, Sam saw a Vertibird sitting on a nearby landing pad, but instantly saw the colour drain from Danse's face. Turning around to the sound of a creaking door, Sam saw their illustrious Elder Maxson, walking slowly towards them. As Arthur got closer, he began to bare his teeth and his face became increasingly more scarlet.

"Knight! Why the hell is that creature there, still drawing breath! I believe that I had been clear when I ordered you to KILL IT!" Maxson screamed, the veins in his neck standing.

"I'm sorry Elder, but I cannot kill Former Paladin Danse. He was my superior officer and my friend. Can you please spare him?" Sam asked. Maxson's head quickly jerked in Danse's direction and then came back to stare at Sam. It hurt Arthur to see his friend in his current situation but Danse must understand that if Arthur made one exception, the general order in the Brotherhood would fracture and break down.

"Arthur… If I may, I just ask that if you do kill me, please just don't incriminate Knight Winters. If the years of comradery mean anything to you, please just fulfil that one last request. Well I suppose you don't owe me anything… God only knows where the real Paladin Danse is…" Danse asked. Arthur sighed deeply, the anger finally starting to subside.

"See Elder? If he really was the enemy, he'd have tried already to bring the Brotherhood down. But instead, I've had to stop him trying to kill himself so that he could ensure the Institute doesn't use him to harm anyone he cares about. That kind of loyalty is rare and I'm sure from what I've heard in the common area that it's not common." Sam pleaded. Arthur lifted his hand up to Sam.

"That's enough Winters. I'm sorry but Danse knows what happens to the Brotherhood's enemies. You heard me when you first appeared aboard the Prydwen. The Institute is a malignant growth, one that we must eradicate to the highest degree. There can be no exception!" Arthur ordered. Sam thought he was projecting his voice very loudly but her current situation required her full attention, so Sam focused her attention back to the elder. Suddenly, the sharp hiss of compressed air brought her attention to Danse, who had a dart sticking out of his chest. Danse's eyes seemed to roll back before the man fell back and stopped moving. Sam started to scream, but Arthur grabbed her by the shoulders. Sam fell to her knees and started sobbing. Arthur dropped a scrap of paper in Sam's lap and then turned around, telling Sam over his shoulder that she was to destroy the synth and report back to the Prydwen immediately.

Once Arthur's Vertibird was far enough away, Sam threw her head up and started to cry loudly. She didn't care who, or what heard her, but she had to relieve the pain of not having anyone left in the world. She then remembered the scrap of paper, and unwrapped it with shaky hands.

Dear Ms. Winters,

I'm sorry about shooting the Paladin, but don't worry. I only shot him with a fast-acting sedative. Tell Danse that I'm sorry but he will understand that I couldn't make an exception for him, despite the good years we've shared as friends.

By the way, I'm not stupid. I know about your little militia over in the castle, so if you could employ him there or anything really… I also know that you two seemed to be rather close, so if there is anything going on, take good care of my best friend. To the Brotherhood's knowledge, Paladin Danse is now dead, so if so much as pokes his head out near the airport, it is a shoot-to-kill order.

Now, the sedative should wear off after an hour, so I'm giving you two hours to report back to me with an update on our 'mutual friend'. As for that promotion I mentioned, since I now have an option position in the ranks, I'd like to be the first to congratulate you, Paladin Winters.

Kind Regards,

Arthur.

Sam stared at the sheet in disbelief. It turned out that there was some humanity left within the Elder, and Sam found that she now had some new-found respect for the young Elder. Seeing the tell-tale sign of a radiation storm, Sam pulled Danse's unconscious body inside the Listening Post, which proved to be quite difficult. Laying Danse beside the small fire Sam had made inside the Listening post, she draped her leather jacket over him and sat beside him, guarding him while he slept. After a while, the storm had passed, and Sam had begun to feel stiff. Laying her gun down, Sam ran a hand through Danse's sweaty locks and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"I love you Matt. You'll always be my Paladin." Sam whispered. Going back to her now dying fire, she never noticed Danse's mouth stretch into a grin.

Fin