Rehabilitation [Fallout 4, Another Way Series Pt 1]

Chapter 4

"What decisions have you made, Michael?" Deacon sat in a folding chair in the main room, legs crossed so one ankle rested on his opposite knee. He held a small glass of a light brown drink and swirled it before taking a sip.

Danse was across from him, sitting at attention, ever the proper soldier. Nora was away with Glory making a run to pick up information left by agents of another Railroad safehouse. Deacon hoped Glory's guns-blazing approach to her work wouldn't put their newest agent in harm's way. Danse rolled his broad shoulders. "I've been discussing things with Agent Wanderer."

"It's up to you in the end," Deacon clarified.

"I understand. She seems smart about these sorts of things and I just needed a second opinion. She's full of those."

Deacon looked up at Danse in surprise. So the soldier was capable of humor, despite the straight face he wore even when making a joke.

"I think it's best I receive the plastic surgery. I still have goals to aid the Wastelands as best I can and I want to be able to move freely without worry of the Brotherhood recognizing me."

"You've decided to keep your memories then? If you got new ones, you may have a different agenda."

"That, I haven't decided on just yet. Whatever my decision, it will either displease the Railroad for my remaining sentiments towards the Brotherhood, or upset Wanderer for opting to forget our experiences."

Deacon's surprise only increased. The agent hadn't thought Danse considered Nora's feelings in all this— only her opinion as a fellow soldier. Did he care about her beyond their relationship as recruits? Deacon remained wary, however, at the admission of Danse's potential loyalty to the Brotherhood of Steel. If he received a new face, there was little stopping him from signing up again under an alias and working his way back up the ranks.

"I know what you must be thinking, and I'm willing to admit I considered it highly."

"So there's something going on in there after all," Deacon smiled.

Danse ignored the comment. He was used to the insults since his teenage years— or whoever's teen years they were. Being a soldier came with stigmas of heartlessness, blind faith in a cause, and lack of free thought. While Danse understood how people might believe those things about him, he knew they were untrue in his case. Every day he felt deeply but stifled it with a glower for the security of those around him.

"Even if I wanted to rejoin the Brotherhood, you will have seen my new face. I expect the Railroad would expose me, despite my good intentions for the Commonwealth."

Deacon held back a scoff. The two factions had common goals, it's true, but the Brotherhood's came at the cost of eliminating all synths— free-thinking humans that only happened to be manufactured in a lab. He thought Danse foolish for aiding a cause that would have him put down like a dog but Danse knew the power of technology put to proper use. The Railroad had two working terminals and guns that shot scrap metal. The Prydwen hosted an extensive collection of weapons, armor, advancements in medicine, technologies, and manpower— not to mention the giant robot Nora had just helped them complete. In his mind, it was obvious who would be the one to take down the Institute, and the Railroad was imprudent for trying to stand in the Brotherhood's way.

The Railroad agent lacked the mental strength to make his arguments today and Danse had no interest in trying to convert Deacon with a speech on his ideals.

"I don't know where I want to go but I want to remain who I am. I'm ready for the surgery whenever it's available."

Deacon placed his empty glass on a rusty metal desk beside him. "We can get it started this week. It will take months to heal but our guy does great work."

"What was it like," Danse asked, "when you found out?"

Deacon felt a twinge of guilt for pretending to have gone through what Danse was dealing with right now.

"We're incredible, Michael. All the perks of being human while also being ageless. What about that wouldn't be appealing?"

"The part where I'm an abomination to nature."

"Excuse you," Deacon said, feigning hurt and continuing the lie. "I know it hurts, knowing your memories aren't your own. Try not to think about it too much. There's always the memory wipe. It could make things easier." Deacon sought to push the memory change for the sake of making one less enemy for the synths. While staring down Danse behind his shades, a leather bag fell heavily on the desk beside him.

"She's back," Danse said with a bounce of his brows as he finally picked up a glass of bourbon Deacon had poured for him upon sitting down.

Deacon cursed as he watched Nora storm across the safehouse into the back tunnel. She had heard his suggestion to Danse. "We'll head out for the surgery tomorrow, Michael." He patted the synth on the shoulder and left him to finish his drink. Glory strolled into the room more casually than her new partner had and took up conversation with Danse.

Adjusting his belt, Deacon stepped into the tunnel. Nora sat on a ratty brown mattress, one she had claimed chiefly to let Danse have the nicer of the available two. Her head was turned down the tunnel towards a metal door, a fist under her chin and a scowl on her face. Deacon knocked on the bricks, causing his knuckles to make more of a knock than the wall.

"Fuck off," she said.

"Hey, c'mon, I'm trying to help him out here." Deacon stepped closer but kept a safe distance.

"I know exactly what you're trying to do. You told him it's his decision, so stop pushing him to make the one that best suits the Railroad!" She turned to him and glared.

He cursed in his mind and told himself he'd have to patch this quickly. "I'm sorry, Wanderer."

She sighed. "If you want me aboard, you have to help him, not make decisions for him. You know what it's like in his shoes. Give him time." There was no way he could ever let up the lie now— not without serious repercussions. It wasn't funny anymore.

Nora turned her head away. He caught her eyes closing and her cheeks immediately go bright red. "Hey," he said softly. Her shoulders gave a sharp heave despite her attempts to hold them steady. "Shh," he whispered, looking around for some nonexistent helper. He knelt beside her when he realized he was the only one there. "Shh sh sh." He cautiously put a hand on her shoulder as it heaved again, accompanied by a quick gasp for air. Tears ran down the hand covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry," he said, placing both hands on her arms and rubbing them up and down. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. He hadn't done that for so long but it came back naturally. "This must be really difficult."

"I hate this place," she moaned. "Nothing's the same." He had learned from months of trailing her that she was Old World. Something about a baby was said to detective Nick Valentine as they traveled but most of their conversations took place behind the closed door of his agency. After Nora had taken up with the Brotherhood, Deacon watched as her friendship with Nick, a Gen 2 synth, had fallen apart and her case was never discussed with him again. He couldn't imagine what the Institute was doing with a baby, but when she had told him that they no longer had what she sought, Deacon didn't let his thoughts linger on what may have happened to the child at their hands.

"The closest thing to a family I had wants me dead." She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

"You'll have the Railroad now," he assured her. "We're one big dysfunctional family— with guns. We've got your back, Wanderer." He took a dishrag from his back pocket and offered it.

She took it and used it then tried to awkwardly chuckle the tears away. She put her dry hand over his on her arm but didn't look up at him. "Thanks."

"You've always got my ear to bend," he said quietly. He almost moved to brush a strand of wet hair from her cheek but stopped himself. She finally met his lenses, closer than she had realized. Her eyes flitted across his calm face.

The heavy door at the entrance of the headquarters slammed open. It was Drummer Boy. "Brotherhood!!"