Miss United States

The atmosphere was gloomy in the barracks, with a certain heaviness that seemed to press down upon her. Danse pulled her along, helping her they travelled up to the next floor, the silence only broken by the clunk clunk clunk of their suits. The lonely noise didn't last; a familiar scream filled the air. They had barely made it up the stairs when the room seemed to flood with ghouls from every direction. One leapt straight at her from behind as she was mid step; she teetered on one leg for a moment, pulling the ghoul to her front, and then fell forward, the crunch beneath her armour signalling the end of that particular attacker. Adrenaline was pumping back through her, wiping away the pain and driving her to her feet with a scream of her own. Her vision tunnelled as she pulled out her shotgun, blasting away every feral she could point it at.

Click.

"Fuck!" There was no time to reload, and she swung the gun with all her might, cracking open the skull of the nearest ghoul; the wound in her side flared to life, overcoming the adrenaline so fiercely she felt her knees buckle.

"Covering!" Danse bellowed, smashing the butt of his rifle into the face of a feral and then shooting the ones near Quinn in the head. With shaking hands, she reloaded, letting out a string of swearwords as she dropped some of the cartridges in her haste. Keep going, keep going… She reloaded, aimed, and the head of one last feral ghoul exploded in a spectacular gory mess. With a sigh, she gave Danse a thumbs up. To her shock, he returned it. There were slight scuffing noises in one of the next rooms, and Quinn narrowed her eyes before getting to her feet with a groan. She edged forward, gun raised.

"Something's still here," she said, scanning the area.

"Affirmative." The paladin moved up to join her, his back turned to hers.

There was what looked like the remains of a bathroom in front of her, tiles lit up with an eerie green glow. From her limited experience with ghouls, Quinn knew they liked to hide in dark spaces, and that there was always at least one that would jump out and try and eat her. After today's events, though, Quinn felt that if all she had to deal with was a asshole ghoul sulking in the toilet, then she could consider herself lucky. It wasn't even an hour into daybreak yet. Praying for the best, but expecting the worst, Quinn raised her shotgun and stepped into the bathroom.

The cubicle door crashed open, the green light dazzling her. Lo and behold, that one asshole ghoul comes out of its toilet, Quinn thought stupidly. It was blinding; bright green-yellow skin that was translucent and glowing at the same time. She could see the outline of its skull and the dark pattern of its veins as it stepped towards her, arms raised.

"Glowing One!" Danse shouted. "Don't let it near you! Back, back, back!"

Quinn stumbled away, shielding her eyes as best she could. She watched as its head snapped back repeatedly, the shots Danse fired seeming to have little effect. Then the world spun out of control as something hard and fast hit her from the side, sending her tumbling through the large hole in the ground and down to the floor below. Quinn landed with a loud crash, pieces of tile and splintered concrete spraying up into the air. The feral that had knocked her off balance didn't seem to notice the fall, scrambling to its feet and lunging for another attack. It was larger than the others, with muscly arms despite its emaciated frame, and jumped on top of her, beating its fist down onto her helmet. The blows didn't so much as dint the armour, but the strikes were strong enough to slam her head back repeatedly on the floor. Letting out a roar of rage, Quinn threw back a blow of her own, sending the ghoul spinning away and crashing into a rusted, crooked bed frame that had been lying on its side. Quinn struggled to her feet, dizziness and fatigue sapping the strength she needed to move in her armour, and stomped over, bringing her foot down on the struggling ghoul's head. She felt sick, and not just from her injuries.

Above her there was a bang, and the glowing ghoul fell down through the hole she had come from. Seconds later, Danse followed, landing with both feet onto the creature as it tried to stand. Green blood splattered out in a wide arc, illuminating everything it touched.

"That was the last of them," he said, stepping away from the body, Quinn saw his feet and calves were day-glo green, and felt the giggles return in full force. She didn't care that Danse was staring at her, or that her laughter was edging towards hysterical, echoing uncomfortably around the ruined room. They were safe. The adrenaline was wearing off, making way for the pain that had been patiently waiting for her. Her knees buckled and Quinn fell onto all fours, still giggling while Danse rushed to her side.

"I'm fine," she muttered as he pulled her to the corner of the room, stood her up, and started undoing her power armour from the outside. Danse ignored her, cracking it open and scooping her out, before sitting her down with her back propped up where the walls met. He took his helmet off and laid it down next to her. All the lines in his face had returned with a vengeance, deep with worry.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, his eyes flicking down every second or so to her wound. "I just need to find something to clean your injury. Hang in there, soldier."

Then he was gone, and Quinn stared out blankly to the opposite wall, a crushing feeling of loneliness pressing down on her.

Time was of the essence. How much blood had she lost? How severe was the wound? The dark stain in her vault suit had been a good indicator of the extent of the damage, but there were other factors to consider: depth, infection, internal damage. Had a vein or artery been hit? An organ? He knew perfectly well that Quinn wouldn't be still standing - or...sitting - if that were the case. It didn't stop the unfamiliar sensation of fear from bubbling up into his chest. Danse pushed it aside; now was not the moment for panic. He sprinted into the next room, stepping over the remains of ghouls and pre-war skeletons, spotting what he needed immediately. On the wall, there was a medical box; he wrenched it open. A bottle of water, some surgical tubing, and a stimpak greeted him. Despite being able to see all of its contents, Danse rooted frantically through the container for something that would act as an anti-sceptic. Nothing. The one thing he needed and he didn't have it. He used his limited supply at The Slog. Stupid. Short sighted. The kind of thing he expected from a junior knight, not an experienced paladin.

Danse stepped back and glanced around. There was nothing. The fear was increasing now, prickling all the way through him, from his core to the tips of his fingers. He ran back through the area, launching himself up the collapsed ceiling to the upper level, searching for another medical box. The main rooms were bare, so made his way back onto the opening corridor. If he could just find a supply cupboard or a doctor's office…

There was an office, but not a doctor's one, its filing cabinets tipped over into the wall, the desks all askew. Despite the skeletons strewn everywhere, Danse was hopeful, heading straight for the desk. Personal experience at the citadel and aboard the Prydwen had taught him that if there was one place that alcohol would be hidden, it would be a desk. And if he was lucky…

"Yes!" His hands closed around a bottle of vodka in the second drawer down. Everything else he needed was in the kit on his armour. Holding the bottle as firmly as he dared - power armour didn't give the most sensitive of grips - Danse headed back down the stairs. The temptation to jump down to the second floor was there, but if Quinn had moved, he risked hurting her, or damaging the bottle if she hadn't. Thankfully, she had stayed where she was, though alarm shot through Danse as he saw she had slumped forward. He set the bottle down and clambered out of his power armour, his thought process shifting into leadership mode. The panic had gone as quickly as it had arrived; he felt a cool sense of calm sweep over him, and he took the medical kit from its container before he knelt down beside her.

"Hey," she mumbled, lifting her head up, her hand clamped to her side. "I wondered if you'd done a runner."

Danse didn't answer. He was deep in concentration as he reached forward and unzipped her vault suit, pulling it right down to expose the wound. Quinn's face took on a deep shade of scarlet and she tried to pull away from him, tugging up her clothes. Danse grabbed her hands and wrenched them down. "Now is not the time for niceties, soldier," he snapped. "This need to be treated now. Hold still." With practiced hands, he unscrewed the vodka bottle and poured some of its contents onto his palms, rubbing them together and wincing as it stung his dry skin. It would have to do. There was no other way to clean them. He then poured some of it onto a brilliantly clean piece of cloth. The Brotherhood made sure to sanitise everything medical before it was used it the field - one of the perks of being part of the family. Danse held the now soaked cloth aloft. "Deep breath, soldier. This will...sting." He pressed it against the wound.

Quinn's hand shot out and clutched at his arm, her nails digging in deep as her eyes widened and her head twitched back. Her mouth open and closed wordlessly, before her lips pulled back in a snarl while she gritted her teeth together. Danse could sense it coming. Once the initial shock had worn off, a moment of pure, unrestrained-

"FUCK!" Quinn screamed, slamming her fist into the wall. She bent her head forward, chest heaving. "Fuck, fuck...fuck…"

Both hands were clinging to Danse now. Probably a good sign that her grip was so strong. He dabbed at the wound and cleaned it as best he could, and then injected the stimpak. Stimpaks were excellent for healing, but they weren't the fix-all that civilians thought they were. Better to know basic medical training - or even better, a doctor - than to rely solely on stimpaks. Or at least, better to know exactly how to use a stimpak than to just inject it anywhere and hope for the best. Quinn's hold on him relaxed and she shifted slightly to prop herself up better. Danse nodded, more to himself than to her, and unravelled the last of the bandages, binding the wound up.

The drive that had settled over him was slowly lifting; Danse was suddenly very aware that he was staring at Quinn with her clothes pulled down to her waist. A bra still covered her dignity, but it didn't make him feel any better. An intense heat was shooting up through his face and his words ceased to work. "I, uh, I'm sorry...I shouldn't be...I'll just…" he stammered. Better to abandon the situation now than make it worse. Danse stood up in silence and walked back to his power armour, pretending to adjust it while Quinn dressed herself again.

Quinn's side ached and stung as she wrestled her arms back into her jumpsuit, but the pain was secondary to the embarrassment coursing through her. It was stupid, really. She was an Adult Woman with an Adult Life...a man seeing her bra shouldn't be bothering her as much as it was. It was for a good reason, after all, and it wasn't like he had seen her naked…. Quinn groaned and put a hand to her face, cheeks burning at the thought.

"Are you alright?" Danse glanced over his shoulder at her; Quinn could see the telltale signs of red lurking beneath his unshaven face.

"I'm fine," she said, digging her heels into the floor and pushing up against the wall to try and stand. "You can stop hiding in your power armour now." He strode over and put his hands under her arms, carefully lifting her upright. Quinn looked at him and smiled. "Thanks, paladin."

"It was no trouble." He let go of her, watching her as she regained her balance and shuffled over to her power armour. "...what are you doing?"

"Suiting up." Quinn grabbed hold of the valve and tried to turn it, a sharp pang firing up in her side. She cried out, clutching at her bandaged wound, and slumped against the suit. "Help me with this, will you?"

"No."

Quinn stared at him, certain she had misheard him. "I can't open this on my own. Please help me."

Danse folded his arms. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Quinn snapped, feeling her temper flare up with her pain. "Stop dicking around and help me suit up."

This time the frown on his face held traces of annoyance, but his voice stayed calm and level. "You're not going anywhere, soldier. You're injured, you're tired, and there's a deathclaw on the prowl. You can't even open your armour - how do you expect to fight anything in your state?"

"In my state?" Quinn spluttered. She glared at him, feeling a heat in her face that had nothing to do with embarrassment this time. "What state? I'm fine! But if you won't help, I'll open this...stupid...thing...on...my...own." Each word was punctuated with an attempt at the valve, the final twist causing so much pain, Quinn felt her knees give way. She clung onto the valve for dear life, the sudden jolt causing another wave of agony. The tears were close now, stinging her eyes as she tried to pull herself up, her feet sluggish and struggling to respond.

A pair of warm, rough hands closed around her wrists, helping up again. Danse was standing next to her, gripping her firmly, holding on even as she tried to pull away from him. "Quinn," he said in a low voice, "I know you want to find your son, but getting yourself killed won't solve anything."

It was too much. Quinn yanked her hands free, wanting to hit him for holding her back, although a part of her knew he was talking sense. Instead, she shoved the power armour as hard as she could. Her body simply bounced off it, and she landed on the floor with a bump and a string of swearwords that would have made a raider blush.

Danse knelt down beside her, poking his fingers through the hole in her vault suit and peering at the bandages underneath. His face relaxed and he caught her eye. "You had almost no sleep at The Slog, and after today's battle, your body has reached its limit. You need to recuperate." He nodded to a bed in the corner of the room, a grimy window next to it filtering weak light through like a faint spotlight. "Lie down. I'll stay on watch. Tomorrow, we'll head south and west through Boston. There'll be more enemies there, but with any luck, we'll keep out of their sight...and if the deathclaw decides to follow us, it'll have other targets that it can pick on."

Quinn didn't reply. She didn't trust herself to speak as the emotions whirled around her head. One in particular stood out the most: another day wasted. A hand appeared in front of her, making her jump. She took it, an odd sense of comfort sparking from the feel of those rough palms, and Danse gently pulled her upright.

"Go lie down," he ordered, his eyes kinder than his tone.

She knew she was defeated. With a sigh, Quinn limped her way over to the bed, each step twinging her side. When she reached it, however, she was shocked to find… "Clean sheets!"

"Soldier?" Danse glanced over at her, halfway through climbing back into his armour.

"Clean sheets! Clean sheets!" Quinn sat on the bed with a bounce, ignoring the stabbing sensation that followed her lack of care. "Clean sheets! Actual clean sheets!" she pulled them up in her hands, scrunching them under her fingers and smelling the fabric. That was a mistake. Despite the lack of grime and damp (which was another mystery, considering how moldy the foyer of the main building was), they still smelt stale and...well, Quinn didn't like to think what else. But it didn't matter. The mattress was the same. For the first time since she had arrived in this godforsaken wasteland, she had found a clean bed, and right now she needed any small amount of joy to drag her through her frustration. Quinn kicked her boots off, feeling bad that she was smearing the sheets with dirt and blood, and then wrapped herself up tight, her head just poking out of the mass of crisp, grey linen. Danse watched her from across the room wearing a mixed expression of confusion and amusement; she grinned at him, and then felt it slip from her face as she looked at him properly for the first time that day. There were deep shadows under his eyes and his skin looked pale, even in the dim light of the room. With a grunt, she sat up. "Aren't you tired too? We could take turns with the watch."

Danse shook his head. "You need it more than me. Besides…" he looked uncomfortable now. "...I don't always sleep well. I see little point in wasting time making the attempt." He stopped, brow creasing, eyes unfocused as he stared out blankly at the wall behind her, and then turned away to face the entrance instead. Quinn stared after him. If she didn't know better, it seemed like Danse thought he had said too much, though she couldn't understand why. Everyone had to have sleeping trouble in a place like the Commonwealth. She shrugged to herself - ow - and settled back down in the bed - ow Jesus Christ ow - looking up at the ceiling. A sudden tiredness washed over her, and within minutes she had fallen fast asleep.

Nate's chest heaved as he lay on the ground, dust swirling around him as blood poured from the hole in his gut. Thunder-cracks of rifle fire sounded overhead, mingled with the blast of landmines consuming his friends, devouring their legs, their arms...their lives. He struggled against the force pinning him to the floor, snapping his head from side to side...and saw her. This time, Crofts lay in a crumpled heap near him, her head twisted at an odd angle. Half of her face had been ripped away, the edge of the flesh and exposed bone charred and crumbling. Her hair was singed and smouldering, her clothes smoking slightly. But one eye, one bright, blue, accusing eye stared out from the depths of her face.

You let me die. You killed me. That mine was meant for you, and I took it instead. You let me die.

Nate tried to raise an arm to shield his face from her gaze, but found they were staked to the ground by shrapnel, a shard in each of his forearms. The eye continued to burn into him as Nate started to scream.

"No, I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't mean it! I prayed to God to save me, but I didn't want him to take you instead! I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! I-I-"

"Nate!""

Hands were holding him tight, pinning his arms in place. Nate struggled and sobbed, the blue eye slowly fading into the bedroom light. Quinn held onto him, kissing his cheeks, whispering into his ear. "I'm here, hun. You're at home, in our bed, safe." Nate gasped hoarsely, cold sweat drenching his brow as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, but he stopped struggling. Quinn slowly let him go and stroked his face, still mumbling reassurances when the shakes hit him. She helped him sit up and held him to her breast, stroking his hair with the care and comfort only she could bring him. Nate clung to her arm like a child, the vision of Crofts still etched into brain, but dimming somewhat.

"Thank you," he croaked, placing a hand on her swollen belly.

"Anytime, hun. Do you want some water?"

Nate nodded and sat up, wiping the sweat away from his face with a trembling hand. When he looked up, Quinn leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He froze, a delay between his head and his body, but then slipped his arms around her and pulling her close as he said, "I love you."

"And I love you." Her fingers were cool against his burning skin; Nate tilted his head towards her, trying to touch as much of her as possible. Quinn caressed his cheek with her thumb. "I'll get you that water."

Nate watched his wife shuffle out of the bed and waddle off into the hallway, her nightdress tight against her large stomach. As soon as she was gone, Nate's face crumpled and he hunched forward, dragging the sheets towards him and burying his face in them. What a fucking joke he was. He was going to be a father, someone for his kid to look up to, and yet he still had nightmares like a child and snivelled into his wife's arms when he woke up. Quinn was the strong one, not him. He was pathetic, not worth a damn. The tears were threatening to break through again; Nate bit into his arm hard to stop them.

"Hun?"

Nate sat up sharply. He hadn't heard her come into the room. He could taste salt in his mouth.

"Oh my god!" Quinn slammed the glass of the water down onto the dresser, slopping it everywhere, and hurried over to him, dabbing his mouth with her nightdress. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Nate muttered, trying to push her away. "I'm fine. Stop...stop fussing." The last word came out sharp, cutting – she flinched away from him and Nate felt a fresh wave of self-disgust wash over him. "I'm sorry, honey...I just..." He wiped away the blood on his arm and from his lips, unable to look at her. What she thought of him...he didn't want to find out. He didn't want to see disappointment or revulsion in her eyes. Not her eyes. Anyone's but Quinn's. The thought of her recoiling from him riddled him with dread. He jumped as she touched him under the chin and moved his face to make him look at her.

"We'll get through this," she said softly. "If our marriage can survive your fucking gun tinkering habit, it can survive this. We will get through this together, and we'll be stronger for it. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, wherever you need me. But please don't hide from me, hun. Tell me what's wrong; let me in and let me help you. Please."

It was too late to stay calm now. Nate's vision had blurred so badly all he could see was a vague outline of her. He groped like a blind man, his eyes stinging hard, and pulled her towards him.

Quinn woke with a start, gasping and fighting the sheets. "Nate! Nate!" she rasped, reaching out for his place at her side. Her hand met empty air and she tumbled out of the single bed, returning to the Commonwealth with a crash. Darkness had fallen; she could barely see in the gloom.

stomp stomp stomp

"Are you alright?" The paladin was at her side again.

If he pulls me to my feet one more time today… "Vodka," she said aloud. "Bring me the vodka, please." The stomping returned, moving away from her as she rubbed her forehead, and then returning. A bottle was pressed into her shaking hand. Quinn fumbled with the top for a few seconds, sighing slightly as it came loose. She tossed it aside without thinking, hearing it rattle away under the bed, and took a swig; it burned, as expected, ripping down her throat and searing her stomach. Cheap shit, or at least cheaper than what she had bought back home with Nate. It smelt and tasted like paint thinner. Quinn took another drink and leant back against the bed frame, her eyes closed.

"You're drinking it neat?"

Quinn didn't need to open her eyes. The disapproval in his voice was screaming at her. "Yep. Best cure for a shitty dream."

"You don't need that poison to cope." His words were hard and sharp. Quinn did open her eyes now and stared at him, shrinking back from the fierce glare he gave her.

Forcing a smile, she held up the bottle. "Want to share?" It was the smallest of motions, but Quinn saw his hand twitch; she had him.

"I've seen too many good men and women fall prey to alcohol," he said, shaking his head as his frown deepened. "Too many good people using the wrong methods to fight their demons." His eyes flicked to the bottle and back to her.

"Fine," she sighed, putting it down with a clunk. "Ah, crap, where's the lid?" Quinn rolled onto her knees, noting that the pain in her side had dulled down to a faint ache, and scrambled under the bed, carefully holding the bottle aloft so as not to spill it. She rummaged in silence for a minute or so, and found the lid hiding next to a piece of rubble. "Gotcha, you son of a-"

"Quinn?"

Quinn jumped and hit her head on the underside of the bed frame. "Motherfu-" She stopped, pressed a hand to the sore spot, and sighed. "Yes?"

"I am sorry for...causing you embarrassment earlier. I should have warned you before I exposed you like that. I did it to help you as soon as possible, and if I had to do it again, I would, but…" Danse's voice trailed off as Quinn shuffled back out from under the bed, her ass wiggling in the air as she went.

She's beauty and she's grace, Quinn thought to herself, wincing as her knees scraped on the floor. Free from the enclosed space, she sat up and sneezed, and then wiped the dirt from her face, only succeeding in smearing more from her sleeve onto herself. Quinn set down the now sealed vodka bottle and turned to him. "Have you been thinking about that all this time?" she asked, a small smirk on her face.

Danse flushed. "No," he said, a little too quickly. Quinn's smirk broadened and she stood up.

"You probably saved my life, Danse," she said, stretching out her arms and rocking on her heels. "And now I've slept, I feel pretty damn good. So don't worry about it." Quinn let her arms drop and looked around. "Where's my gun?"

He held up the combat rifle in his hands. "I borrowed it while you were resting, as it's of a higher quality than the one the ghouls gave me." He held it out to her and she took it.

"Just going to stretch my legs. I won't be a minute."

"Do you want me to accompany you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. If anything was left in here, it would have attacked us by now." Quinn flicked on her Pip-Boy light and set off in a stroll towards the kitchen. There was a section of collapsed ceiling which led back up to the next floor. Shouldering her rifle, she scrambled up it, ignoring the slight pang in her side as her feet slipped and skidded on the old wooden boards. The were several footlockers dotted about the place, some on their sides or upside down, others so badly rusted they looked as if a gentle breeze would finish them off. Quinn poked around a few of them and found one that was completely intact. Producing an old screwdriver and a bobby pin, she set to work on the simple lock - Mark, you were such a bad influence - busting through it fairly quickly. Quinn sifted through the junk and empty alcohol bottles, and then spotted something at the bottom, tucked away nearly. "Ah, what's this then?" She picked it up and held it out in front of her. "Not bad. You'll do nicely, I think."

A/N: Oh my gosh. Look how much quicker I can update when I DON'T. HAVE. WORK.

Sigh. Oh well. I still have another six days off to make a few more chapters. I hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks to my friend Musashi1596 on tumblr for his beta help while my usual beta takes a well earned rest.