A fun little headcanon that the Minuteman radio announcer (calling him Dominic) and Travis Miles are brothers. They took the trip to the capital wasteland before Dominic joined up with the Minutemen. Three Dog gave them copies of some of the Capital’s music and a few tips for being radio hosts. After the two returned to the Commonwealth, they sent letters to Three Dog up until the day he disappeared. After the Minutemen fell Dominic wandered the wasteland with a few of his friends and occasionally stopped by Diamond City. It was there that he would learn the Minutemen were reforming and join up again.
Building out the Red Rocket into a home for Paladin Danse because that bunker ain’t shit. Any thoughts on specific decorations for him are welcome and appreciated
“Might be more humane to just take you out back and shoot you.” Haylen was saying as Danse stepped back into the police station. He turned the corner to see Rhys feigning amusement.
“You’re all heart doc.” Rhys chuckled before clutching his side, wincing in pain.
“Well if you would quit squirming like a molerat I might actually be able to patch you up.” She tossed a roll of bandages at him as she ruffled through her medic bag.
“Ow! Malpractice!” Rhys looked up at Danse. “Paladin, you alright?”
It snapped Danse out of the daze he was in.
“I’m alright,” he set the pouch of medicine beside Haylen, “this is from the wastelander.”
“Huh, didn’t think she had anything but her guns.” Haylen remarked as she dug through the pouch.
“She had a horse near by.”
It was Rhys and Haylen’s turn to stare. Danse sighed.
“Four legs, long face, mane, tail, any of this ring a bell?” He asked. They shook their heads.
“Never mind, she’s gone anyway. Just get Rhys patched up.” He marched back to the office he had set his sleeping bag in and stepped out of his power armor. Haylen and Rhys could still be heard from here, talking softly about the stranger and laughing while they did. Danse smiled a little. The wasteland was cruel but it had its moments. He grabbed a piece of paper off that filing cabinet and began writing his report for the day as he listened.
“Fuck!” Rhys cursed.
“I told you to hold still.”
“It’s not easy when you’re poking at me like that.”
Haylen’s boots creaked against the floor.
“Then quit tensing up and making this worse.” A zipper was pulled sharply. “You’re going to need a sling for a few days.”
“Oh come on, it’s a scratch.” Rhys protested.
“No, it’s many deep scratches that you can’t feel because your nerves are fried in that arm.” Haylen snapped at him. “You’re lucky we aren’t out of stimpaks and doubly lucky that whoever that stranger was gave us antibiotics.”
“Really?” His voice sounded relieved. “Who that fuck does that?”
“Someone crazy enough to storm into the middle of a skirmish,” She guessed, “she probably felt sorry for you.”
“Low blow doc.”
“I’m serious, if she has time to put eyeliner on in the morning, she has time to feel sorry for us.” Haylen scolded.
The conversation died down after that. The occasion swear from Rhys was nothing new. Danse finished the rest of his report and made note Rhys’s injury for future reference. He signed off on it and tucked it in filing cabinet with the others.
One small lunch later, he was back in his power armor and dragging ghoul corpses away from the station. He was stalling mostly. Waiting for Haylen to wander out and make a comment about burying Keane. In the end guilt gnawed at the paladin. He gently lifted the soldier’s limp form from the catwalk and carried him around to the side of the station. There were two grave mounds and three posts there.
Brach.
Worwick.
Dawes.
Their names carefully carved into planks of wood. Wilted fern flowers were sitting against the bottom of the planks. Haylen had gathered them while scavenging the Red Rocket station nearby. Rhys had carved the names. Danse had polished the two holotags that could be recovered and kept them in the station.
He placed Keane’s body beside Brach’s grave and waited.
Haylen found him a little while later out of his power armor with a shovel in his hand and a half dug grave at his feet.
“Rhys is all patched up. He had some bruising on his legs and stomach along with the gashes on his arm.” She said as she dug through a pile of rubble. She pulled a piece of painted wood from the pile. Thin strips of blue paint flaked as she dusted off the surface. “He’ll need a few days to recover but other than that no lasting damage.”
“I’m relieved to hear that Haylen.” Danse reached for Keane’s holotags and carefully lifted them over the soldier’s head. He held them out to Haylen. “Please take these inside and set them with the others.”
Haylen tucked the board under her arm and cupped the tags in her hands like they were the most precious of artifacts. Danse returned to digging after he heard the station door close behind her.
He dug for close to an hour more before hearing the station door open once again. Two pairs of footsteps scraped along the ground and came to a stop behind him. Danse put down the shovel and turned his attention to his remaining squad members. Haylen held the board and a tarp under one arm and stabilized Rhys with the other. The knight looked a little better than before. The tightness in Danse’s shoulders eased a little. Rhys sat back on some cinder blocks and grabbed the board from Haylen. She laid out the tarp as Danse lifted Keane and placed him down on the material. Haylen straightened his uniform, dusted off his hat, and tucked it under his hands as she crossed them over his chest. Danse folded the tarp over Keane and gently lowered him down with Haylen’s help.
“He was an exemplary soldier.” Danse started.
“And a damn good friend.” Haylen chimed in.
“He always said he was going to take his mac and cheese recipe to the grave.” Rhys chuckled weakly. The other two chuckled as well.
“He was always adamant about that.” Danse said, “I’m glad he got his wish.”
They said the rest of their goodbyes over the course of the next hour while Danse piled the dirt back in the grave. Rhys stuck the board now adorned with Keane’s name into the loose dirt while Danse and Haylen held him steady. Danse returned to his power armor and helped Rhys up the stairs while Haylen held the station door.
Back inside the police station, dinner was a quiet affair. The Blamco mac and cheese they prepared was missing whatever Keane had done to make it special. Haylen urged Rhys to lay down when he finished his meal, a stern look from Danse had him sighing and back on his sleeping bag. Haylen was finishing a medical report when Danse got up and took first watch.
The night air was pleasant, less suffocating to be outside in power armor. He settled into his spot overlooking the barricades. He mulled over the day’s events, Keane, the feral ghouls, that wastelander.
That goddamned wastelander.
It ticked him off that he couldn’t figure them out. He was decent at reading people, not terrible like some brotherhood members he knew. She was off somehow. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Maybe he should have shot her in the back, would have gotten more answers that way. Danse shook his head. It wouldn’t have been right. She had helped. It confused him as much as it comforted him that she was gone now.
He stared out into the night and said a quiet prayer for her safety.
•Patrols consist of four riflemen, a medic, and a courier who doubles as the navigator. Most routes are
•Many patrol groups have favorite settlements to patrol to a from depending on where they are stationed.
•Freedom Radio announces birthdays and patrols celebrate with impromptu pit stops for snacks and/drinks.
•A select few patrols swing by to Boston Airport to check on the BOS and bring by technology for a fee.
•Most patrols have at least one guy/gal with a harmonica after Preston found a box while scouting with the General and they decided it would be good for morale to teach some Minutemen to play.
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Fallout 4
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Paladin Danse (Fallout)/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Paladin Danse (Fallout), Original Characters, Sole Survivor (Fallout), Preston Garvey
Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Canon-Typical Violence
Summary:
Paladin Danse thought nothing of the interaction after the stranger disappeared into the wasteland. She had politely declined the rifle he offered as compensation. Opting for information instead simple yes and no questions and she was on her way.
Silas had been panicking since she discovered she was defending Brotherhood of Steel members and not a ragtag group she could travel with. The scribe had been nice, the knight had said nothing, but the paladin had scrutinized her as if her past was tattooed on her skin. At one point it had been.
Neither knew what the wasteland was about to throw at them or their allies.
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