Sacrifices

Chapter 7: Too Long In The Wasteland

Always eager to please, Haylen was never one to be disrespectful. She obediently followed orders without question, even when she disagreed. Not once had Danse seen her step out of line or mouth off to her superiors. But perhaps Haylen had been harboring a pattern of defiant behavior for some time, and maybe Danse had misjudged her all along.

Apparently, Haylen had made quite a scene in front of Quinlan following the order of Danse's execution. Not to mention, she had helped him escape and confronted him with that insubordinate plan of mutiny. Even though it had swiftly been stamped out with Danse's stubborn claims of loyalty to Maxson and the Brotherhood, he didn't fail to see the irony in the current situation he found himself in. It was an utter contradiction to those very claims and now, surprisingly, he just might count himself one among the defiance.

Maxson stood in the doorway of his jail cell, clad only in a clean black jumpsuit. The remnants of the gunshot wound still remained in puckered, red welts but they had mostly healed. Still, the Elder loomed, commanding respect from above the two soldiers sat against the wall.

"So, have you come to join the party?" Haylen scoffed.

With no intent to simply disarm, the biting tone was meant to draw blood. Her back was pressed straight against the wall, body rigid and eyes scathing beneath pinched brows. Haylen did not fear her Elder, and Danse knew that the lack of respect festering amongst soldiers, was a dangerous breeding ground that cultivated rebellion.

"Or have you simply come to finish the biggest choke job in Brotherhood history?"

"Haylen!" A clipped warning and hard flick of the eyes, a red flag to watch her tongue, because Danse had played with fire once already today and he was in no mood to get burned.

"You're testing my patiences scribe." The sharp firmness in the Elder's voice was accompanied by a slight tightening of his jaw and a lowering of his of his brows. Yet, despite the full range of emotions Danse had witnessed earlier, Maxson had come here armed with steel and composure.

"Tell me Elder," With a twist of her lips, Haylen slowly crept up the wall and clasped her hands behind her back as she slinked toward Maxson, "how does it feel to be railroaded by a synth and a woman half your size?"

It was wrong and he knew it, but Danse had to bite back the little smirk that threatened to taint the well known scowl. He had to hand it to her, Haylen had grit. She was always the loyal soldier, albeit loyal to the wrong man, perhaps.

"You were given an order," A finger was jabbed towards the open door and the face of steel was melting away as cold fury ignited behind pale eyes, "do not make me repeat myself!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" she stood at attention, chest puffed out and snapped off a salute. The old world touch of her fingers to her temple was meant to be a slight. If it wasn't obvious already, she wanted Maxson to know she was blatantly mocking the Brotherhood.

Nostrils flared and air heaved from his chest, but before Maxson could unleash his wrath upon the woman, Danse was on his feet and across the room in a few quick strides.

"That's enough," he growled at Haylen and held up his hand to halt Maxson's advance. "She's done." Her hand was yanked away from her face as Danse pushed her towards the door, attempting to defuse the situation before the scribe found herself locked in her own cell.

"Do as you're told soldier, and leave." While Danse appreciated her tenacity, there was a time and a place for it, and now was neither the time nor the place.

Haylen however, wasn't finished and she planted her skidding boots firm on the ground, "Chapter 7, Article 13, states that prisoners of war must be treated humanely at all times." Danse bit down hard, grinding his teeth together to counter the sigh and eye roll. Apparently Haylen wasn't above throwing the Codex in the Elder's face as well hurling insults at him.