Deathclaw Anger Management

For what felt like the fiftieth time that hour, the tiny screw slipped from his fingers and fell into the mud. Danse grumbled to himself, aware of Sarah's wide eyes on him. It wasn't difficult to filter out any...adult words. Profanity was simply not something he made a habit of. He felt a small lump in the dirt and retrieved the screw with a smile, brushing away the muck and trying to put it back into place. He lost it almost instantly. "Oh for the love of..." He glanced at Sarah. "...steel."

"I'll get Mr Glass!" Sarah piped up, scrambling to her feet, tripping, and nearly knocking the turret over onto Danse. He caught her and the equipment, one in each arm, and righted them both. "Oops, sorry!"

"It's fine. Who's 'Mr Glass'?"

Sarah pointed to a man inside one of the buildings, crouched over a work bench. He straightened up, wiping his brow, and Danse saw that he was a ghoul. A sneer slipped onto his face before he could stop it, but Sarah didn't notice. Not that he would care if she did, obviously. She was a ghoul. Why would he care if she cared? Danse rubbed the back of his neck, a sense of discomfort rising. One ghoul was enough, at any rate. "No, it's alri-"

"MR GLASS!" Sarah bellowed. There was a crash and a yell as Wiseman dropped a box of ammunition on his foot, but Sarah paid no mind to him. Mr Glass, however, looked up and waved. The little girl ran over to him, sandals slapping on the stone floor, and pointed back at Danse, jabbering excitedly. The older ghoul looked at him, down to Sarah, and then back to Danse. After a pause, he nodded, and Danse heard Sarah's squeal of delight from all the way across the settlement. Mr Glass picked up a battered, red toolbox and walked over clutching it to his chest, shoulders and back hunched over in a protective curve around it. He stopped next to Danse, who gave him an icy look.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't need any help."

"You sure about that, friend?" Mr Glass said with a smile, his voice a gentle wheeze, like a breeze blowing through an open window in a half-hearted attempt to be noisy. "I don't look like much, but I've been doing repairs since before you were born." He glanced over the stripped down turret and knelt down carefully, wincing as his knees cracked, and set down the toolbox. He opened it and rooted through it, continuing. "I'm Arlen Glass. I, ah, keep things in order around here." The ghoul pulled out a tiny screwdriver with a blue handle and held it out to Danse. "Here's what you need. I use it for some of my more difficult toys."

"Weapons are not toys."

"I once said something similar to my old boss...he didn't appreciate it much. The screwdriver will work just as well on that turret as any toy, though."

Danse stared at it for a moment, considering just ignoring the ghoul entirely, but his smile was so disarmingly good natured, he found he had taken the tool and uttered a thank you before he was aware of what he was doing. Feeling slightly obligated now, Danse located the screw in the mud (again) and cleaned it off (again) and put it into the slot. The screwdriver fit perfectly into it, and – to Danse's delight – was magnetically tipped, so the screw clung onto it if it came loose. He became lost in the task, fixing all the pieces back into place, but even when the last panel went on, the turret remained still.

"May I?"

Danse jumped. The ghoul was still there, hand outstretched for the screwdriver. Danse looked at the turret and back to Glass' hand. He sighed and surrendered the tool, standing up and stretching his legs while he got out of the way. Glass creaked his way down to the turret and began to work; Danse felt his jaw drop open. The ghoul's hands moved like water as they flowed over the turret, removing the screws and parts with such smoothness the entire spectacle had a sense of unreality about it. A few moments later, Glass spoke.

"There's the problem." A gnarled finger pointed to a chip in one of the circuit boards. A deep flush crept up Danse's cheeks; how could he have missed such an obvious, basic fault? Glass shook his head. "Don't be embarrassed, son. You have a lot on your mind after that argument with your...?"

My...? Colleague? Team member? My...

"Friend," Danse replied. He stole a glance at Quinn from across The Slog; she was sharpening a set of stakes using a makeshift knife with the ferocity of a deathclaw. Forgetting himself, he watched her for a few moments before a small cough from Glass brought him back to earth with a bump.

"Ahh, a friend," Glass said, his mouth twitching up at the corners. He picked up the toolbox again in the same parental manner. "But back to the matter at hand. Come with me. I have a few spare pieces you can use.

The two of them walked in silence back to Arlen's workshop. Broken toys lined the shelves, tarnished glass eyes throwing judgement down on them. Arlen set down his box and opened a drawer at his desk, removing a half finished toy. He sighed. "I was saving this for Sarah, but..." He began to take it apart with that same mesmerising fluidity that held Danse's attention. A thought occurred to him.

"You were able to detect the issue with that turret almost immediately," Danse said, folding his arms and scowling. "Those turrets have been there for months, according to Sarah. Why didn't you fix them? You could have prevented all of this."

There was a clunk as Glass dropped his screwdriver onto the workbench; it rolled over the edge and onto the floor without him so much as looking at it. He leaned over the workstation, hands clamped on the sides, still as a graveyard. The toy lay forgotten. When Glass spoke again, the quavering note in his voice had strengthened, dominating all. "All I wanted...all I've ever wanted...is to bring a little happiness to the world. My daughter loved my toys, and I made sure they all had her seal of approval before I shared them with the rest of the world. But the world wasn't interested in toys, only weapons. Only war. It spread, turning my toy factory into a manufacturer of death. I protested. I was fired. I tried to argue that going down that path, using technology to hurt others, would lead to ruin. I was right. But nobody cared. I swore I would never make a weapon as long as I lived."

There was a twisting sensation in the pit of Danse's stomach; Glass' words rang with the same truth as the Brotherhood doctrine. "The Brotherhood works to keep technology out of the hands of people who would abuse it."

"So I've heard. But who is there to stop you from doing the same?"

Danse opened his mouth to shoot back a scathing reply, but found it stuck in his throat. Glass went on.

"I know how the Brotherhood feels about ghouls; you made that very clear when you first arrived. But at least you didn't try to hurt us. That isn't always the case." Glass stood up straight and turned around, his face riddled with despair, eyes fixed to the floor. "We're just people who are scared, people who just want to live another day. We didn't choose this life, and the way we're shunned, the way we're feared, the way some people can't even look at us, let alone touch us...sometimes it is almost too much to bear. A lot of us...give up before our time. Maybe that's why there are so many ferals." Glass sighed. "I've tried to stay away from humans, tried to live peacefully so I could keep my promise...but its inevitable. In the end, I'll always have to sacrifice my work for someone else's fight."

Danse bent down and picked up the screwdriver, offering it to the toymaker. Glass finally met Danse's eye, his own wide with surprise. "Think of the people you keep safe by breaking your promise," Danse said. "Think about what you gain, not what you lose. By helping me, you're bringing happiness to them, protecting them. Sarah might have to wait for her toy, but thanks to you, she'll still be around to do the waiting."

Arlen Glass paused, and then took the screwdriver off Danse with a shaking hand. He gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

Within ten minutes, the second turret came to life, and began scanning the horizon like its brother. The old ghoul placed a weathered hand on its metal case. "Let's hope this was worth it." His arm dropped back to his side as he walked away, head bent low. Danse watched him go, an odd sensation settling over him; he didn't like it.

"Mr Glass seems sad," Sarah said at his elbow. Danse spun on the spot so fast, he narrowly missed hitting her in the mouth by mistake. She stared up at him, eyes wide. "I'm scared."

"Why?" Sarah looked away, shuffling her feet. He sighed. "I still have to work on the turret, check nothing is loose. Do you want to watch?" Her face lit up as she nodded, clapping her hands and plonking herself on the floor in her usual spot. The truth was, Danse had nothing else he could do to the machine, but something about the girl seemed off. He had seen it plenty of times with his teammates – the over-sharing, the hanging around, the latching onto him. Danse removed the cover panel and poked at the wires at random, sticking his tongue out slightly between his teeth. "Pass me the screwdriver, please." Sarah handed him the tool and he picked a screw, unscrewing and re-screwing it a few times, mostly obscuring the girl's view with his hands.

"What do super mutants do to you when they get you?" The question was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough. There's the problem. Danse stopped what he was doing and sat down next to her.

"Why do you ask?"

Sarah drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face behind them. She was quiet for a few minutes; he waited patiently for her to speak. Eventually her muffled voice gave the answer. "My dad was taken a few nights ago. Everyone told me he was dead, but...I heard they don't always...they don't..."

"Sarah..." Danse cleared his throat. "Your father will be...they won't have kept him alive." Or at least you better hope they haven't.

"Why? Why are they doing this?"

"Because they're fi-" Danse caught himself just in time. He had no qualms about calling the mutant scum every vile name under the sun, but right now, it didn't feel like the right thing to do. It wouldn't bring her father back. "Because they're animals, Sarah. That's all they are; animals that can speak and shoot, but they die just the same as any other beast."

Her face hardened. "Then I'll kill them too."

"No. What you'll do is stay out of the way tonight. That's why we're here, to wipe them out." Danse thought she would argue, but instead she gave a grim nod. He stared at her for a moment and then stood up. She looked at him, startled, and he shot her a quick smile. "I need to continue the preparations, and it's getting dark. Head inside." Sarah pulled a sour face, but did as he asked. He sealed up the turret and then followed her, heading to where his armour stood waiting for him, and clambered back inside. He was whole again, the feeling of frailty and weakness fading as he stomped across the settlement towards Quinn. Her face was expressionless as he approached.

"A word, soldier," he said, gesturing to a quiet spot a little way outside The Slog. Quinn put down the roughly hewn stake and sharpening tool and followed him in total silence. It was only when they stopped, she spoke.

"Yes, paladin?"

"I..." Danse swallowed. This had seemed a lot easier in his head. Quinn's cold, blank face certainly wasn't helping. "I wanted to apologise for our altercation before. You were right. I was rude and...I was...I am..." He grappled for the words, but his mind hit a wall.

a bigot

No. He wasn't a bigot. No. He just didn't trust ghouls. For good reasons. In case they turned feral. That wasn't bigotry. That was logical thinking, like the Brotherhood had taught him. It was-

"OK."

Quinn's voice dragged him out of the confusion, and he realised she had placed a hand on his steel-plated chest, her expression showing a soft hint of warmth. "OK?"

"OK," she repeated. "I don't like your opinion on ghouls, but opinions don't change overnight, do they? You're Brotherhood, through and through. Your ideals are your foundations; they hold you and your family together. Of course you're going to fight tooth and nail to defend them when they're challenged. Just...please. Please try to be more tolerant. You'll make friends with the people of the Commonwealth much quicker that way."

"I don't care if I have their approval," Danse said with a shrug. "But...I do care if I have yours." Quinn's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline, but she didn't speak. Danse decided to go on. "I meant what I said this morning. You have adapted well to the Brotherhood's ideals...I just never realised they could manifest so differently in you than they do in me. You are quick to put down ghouls and super mutants, as you should be, but..." he motioned to The Slog, "you work to protect as well. You help others, as a good person should...as I should. I don't think I can change how I see ghouls, but I can tolerate them, and try not to let my...views affect my duty to protect."

"I shouldn't have shouted at you the way I did," Quinn mumbled. "I'm sorry. It was completely disrespectful of me."

Danse held up a hand. "Then let's agree to move on from it and not dwell on each other's mistakes. I value input and criticism from my team, but only when it is done in confidence – undermining a senior officer without discussing an issue first will always lead to ruin."

Quinn nodded. "Then can I ask something in return?"

"Of course."

"Please trust me when I say there's good in a person."

Danse considered this for a moment. "I will trust you." He placed his armoured hand gently on top of hers without thinking, and then pulled away as if he had been burned. Quinn stepped back, flushing.

"Thank you. But we better cut this short. There's still stuff to do and daylight is burning." She hurried away back towards the pile of stakes, scooping them up and carrying them off to the perimeter. Danse watched her go, vaguely aware of Arlen Glass stood observing in the distance, a smile on his face.

A/N: Thanks to tasty-poptard and dragonifyoudare for their invaluable beta help on tumblr. Sorry this chapter took so long, guys. I've been run into the ground at work and living off 3-5 hours of sleep a night all week. But today was my day off, so I slept in late and finished the chapter!