The Fires Of Boston: A Fallout 4 Fanfic

Not As Much As Paladin Danse

Danse is a... Special type of... Person. Well, he's not... Human. He's a synth. A synthetic person who acts, feels, and shows emotions like organic humans. He's not really... Normal. Not even for being a synth. He's an extremely militarily-trained synth that would sound like a general in the US Army back before the war. Also, he looks more flattering when he isn't wearing that X-01 power armor or that Brotherhood of Steel hood.
Back to the actual story.

Danse and I, we have a strange friendship-relationship thing going on. One minute we're fighting for our lives against a horde of synths, ghouls, or super mutants, the next we're fighting over the last snack cake. He's extremely awkward with that kind of thing, so we just cleanse the wasteland of idiot raiders, super mutants, that sort of thing.
Just a month ago, I found out that Danse was a synth. He acts like he's still part of the BoS, and I don't correct him.
Still not on the actual story.
Sorry.

Yesterday, Danse disappeared. We were taking a break from hiking inside of an abandoned house. I was sitting on the couch cleaning Righteous Authority, my favorite laser rifle Danse gave to me, and Danse was laying down in the other room on a bed. I eventually fell asleep because of boredom, and when I woke up, he was gone.
I searched around the area, but I couldn't find him. So I looked around the house to look for clues. Eventually, I found a messy note written.

If you want to see Danse again, meet me where your sorrows began. -Like Father Like Son

"Meet where my sorrows began?" I asked myself. I sit down and think for a few minutes. Then I get the answer: Vault 111.
I rush to Vault 111 (Vertibird style) and go to Nate's body, or, rather, where his body would be, but in Nate's place, Danse was inside of the cryogenic pod. He wasn't wearing his power armor and it was nowhere to be seen.
I open the pod and Danse steps out. I rush up to him.
"Are you alright?" I ask him, looking around for at sign of injury.
"I'm fine," he replies as an Institute Courser walks up to us.
He says with that flat tone, "Someone needs to see you." I look behind me, seeing three more Coursers.
Having no other choice, I follow Courser number 1 and find my son, Shaun -- adult Shaun -- staring back at me.