Some of you may have seen this chapter when it first went live. I posted it, and then immediately realised I had missed something from it. So I pulled it down again. If you saw the original, fear not! There's about 2,500 extra words in this now.
Enjoy!
Reckless
Hecks and Engine stood at the barricades of their den, peering out into the ruins; noises of the camp sounded down below as Belter laid into his latest scavenger. The whips and screams were a pleasant ambience as the morning sun gently rose into the sky, coating Boston with a fresh, orange light.
Hecks frowned, twisting his mouth from side to side, and then turned to his companion. "Hey."
"Yeah?" Engine looked at Hecks expectantly, the loose spike detail of his armour jingling together as he moved.
"You ever wonder why we're here?"
Engine sighed, running a hand through his stubbly brown hair. He looked back out to the Commonwealth, contemplation etched in his gaunt, rough features. Then his eyes widened as an odd, whistling sound filled the air. He looked up. "Oh, son of a bi-"
The barricade exploded as the mini nuke made impact, flinging the two raiders into the air in a glorious inferno. Quinn whooped with delight, loaded up the Fat Man, and took aim. The kickback was enough to almost knock her over, even in power armour, and she loved it. Somewhere behind her was Danse, yelling for her to slow down, hold back, wait wait wait.
No. Quinn had had enough. The rush of noise and fire was exhilarating. It filled her with a high like nothing she had experienced before, all the rage and frustration and grief pouring out of her and crashing down on her enemies like a tsunami. She charged into the fray, firing off mini nukes at random, drinking in the chaos with glee.
A pair of metal plated hands grabbed at the Fat Man; Quinn turned to give Danse a mouthful, only to find herself facing an extremely disgruntled raider, clad head to foot in what looked like scavenged power armour.
"End of the line, bitch," the raider spat, wrenching the Fat Man free from her grasp like a parent taking a pair of scissors from a child. She hit Quinn across the head with the gun, dazing her, and ran a few paces back. The raider queen hauled the Fat Man into position and fixed the sights on Quinn. The was a yell, and Danse shoulder-barged the raider, the mini nuke flying off into a distant building as she and the gun went sprawling. Quinn leapt to her feet and sprinted for it, punching out another raider as he dove for the weapon; his jaw broke under her fist. Ignoring the nausea in the pit of her stomach, she scooped up the Fat Man and ran forward towards Danse, bringing it down on the raider's exposed head. Again and again it fell, until with a final, gurgling moan, her head split.
Panting, Quinn let go of the Fat Man and dropped to her knees, chest heaving as she looked at the spilt brains and blood before her; the urge to vomit was rising. Danse dragged her up by her arms and spun her around, wearing a snarl she had never seen on his face before.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Clearing a path through these scumbags," Quinn said, waving a hand vaguely to the destruction she had wrought. "It's about time we made some damn progress."
"This is...this..." he seemed momentarily lost for words, "...this is utter recklessness! Look what almost happened! You could have gotten us both killed!"
Quinn flinched at his anger breaking over her, but then shrugged and pulled away from him, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."
"Carried away?" Danse shook his head and scowled. "You have been acting increasingly erratic ever since we left the Prydwen. You're throwing yourself into danger at every opportunity, get involved in seemingly random fights that belong to other people, take risky chances during battles, pushing yourself past your limits when you're clearly injured, drinking to deal with your problems, wandering off in the middle of the Boston Ruins, and now this." Danse gave the empty Fat Man a swift kick, sending it tumbling towards her with a loud clatter. "What did you expect to happen, running straight into a group of enemies with a long range, explosive weapon? That was pure stupidity."
Quinn flared up at once. "I didn't see you complaining about any of this at the time! What, so now I'm taking charge of things, suddenly you have a problem? Besides, it all worked out, didn't it?"
"It's worked so far because sheer luck has carried you through," Danse snapped back. "And I didn't complain because I forgot my responsibility as a paladin; I didn't add everything together. I wasn't paying attention to the fact you're a risk to everyone around you. You're endangering yourself, you're endangering me, and when we eventually return to the Prydwen, you can be damn certain I won't let you endanger anyone else until you're evaluated by Knight-Captain Cade."
She gave an ugly laugh. "As if I give a shit about the Brotherhood right now. Do what you want when we get back – if I even go back with you. I just want to find my son, and I'm sick of waiting for it to happen."
"If you aim to be a reckless parent, it might be better if you don't find him at all."
It was Quinn's turn to kick the Fat Man; her foot hit it with the force of a tank, sending it soaring.
"How dare you!" she exploded, her fury bubbling over as she took off her helmet and flung it to the ground with a clang. "How dare you say that, suggest that I don't...that I..." Her face was scarlet, coherent sentences beyond her. Danse leapt at the opportunity.
"I accept I've revoked my leadership to help you on this mission," he said quickly, his voice firm but maddeningly calm, "but as your friend, I can't just stand by and watch you self-destruct. I grew up alone in the wasteland, hiding in dumpsters for shelter, constantly close to starving, cold, scared...I don't know what happened to my parents. Maybe they abandoned me. Maybe they're dead. But what I do know is it wasn't right."
He paused, but Quinn still seemed past the point of speech, balling up her fists as if she was trying not to hit him. "You have a responsibility as a parent to stay alive for your son. Don't let him grow up alone in the Commonwealth because you can't keep yourself under control."
The dam broke as Quinn saw red. "You think it knows what it feels like, don't you?" she hissed, taking an abrupt step towards him, near blind with rage. "'Keep yourself under control, don't take risks'; you aren't capable of comprehending what I feel." Her voice broke, but she ploughed on, wanting to cut him with her words, make him hurt as she hurt now. "I would watch Nate die a thousand times over and be thankful for it, if it meant I had Shaun back. This isn't like Cutler. You know nothing."
"That's enough," Danse said, his voice a whip crack in the air. Quinn could feel the anger rolling off him, a gleam of hate in his eyes as he towered over her, visibly trembling. God, he was hurting, and for a moment, she relished it. Let him hurt. Let him hate me. Let him go and leave me, then I can grieve and scream and cry in peace with no guilt or shame or... A prickle of sanity sparked in her chest, piercing the shell of madness and letting fear and horror trickle back into her being. What am I doing?
Danse shut his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened them again, a mask was firmly in place. "Stay alive for your son," he said, before walking off in the direction of Diamond City.
Quinn's scream tore through him, her hand crushing his fingers as he sat beside her. She sounded like she was dying, pure agony carved through her beautiful face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she lay on her back, clutching at him. He held onto her, wanting to soothe her pain, knowing he could not.
"Push," said the midwife – or was she a doctor – standing on the other side of Quinn, "just one more push!"
It was three, Quinn's shrieks becoming sharper with each one. For the briefest of moments, Nate found himself back on that battlefield, surrounded by the dying, Crofts' blazing blue eye fixed on him. Quinn's fingernails dug into him, bringing him back from the brink.
And then it was over, his wife collapsing onto the pillows, taking huge, sobbing breaths, sweat pouring down her. Nate hugged as hard as he dared, pushing back her soaked hair and kissing her forehead. The baby was whisked away before he could see it, and for the first time in his life, he didn't know if he wanted to remain with his wife. The cries of the baby called to him, and something overwhelming seemed to expand in his chest. He was a father. That was his child.
Quinn looked awful. Dark shadows circled her eyes, her skin pale and clammy. She shivered, staring at the door they had taken the baby out of, her breathing shallow and quick.
"You did it, hon," Nate mumbled into her ear, holding her close. "You did it."
"I don't want to see them," Quinn said.
"What?" Nate looked at her and saw fear in her eyes. "Why?"
"I don't deserve to be a mother. I don't deserve this, any of this. Don't bring the baby back."
"Quinn-"
"Don't bring the baby back!" Quinn cried, grabbing the front of Nate's shirt and yanking him forward. She sounded close to tears, and her strength surprised him. Before he could stammer out an argument, an angel swept over to them in the form of a nurse.
"Hey," she said soothingly, crouching down next to Quinn and dabbing at her forehead with a damp towel. "Calm down."
Nate braced for impact. If there was one thing would cause Quinn to go off like a bomb, it was being told to 'calm down.' But to Nate's surprise, she turned and looked at the nurse, her face seemingly searching for something, anything, to save her.
The nurse smiled. "It's natural to be scared. You've just become a momma, and that's a big thing. But you've got the best years of your life ahead of you, filled with joy and love. Their first steps. The first time they call you 'mommy.' Their first day of school...you've got it all to come. But right now, savour this moment. Because..." the nurse paused, looking up the ward and smiling, "you have a little man that is desperate to meet you."
"...a boy?" Quinn breathed, fingers tightening around Nate's again. "A little boy?"
The nurse nodded and stood up, moving out of the way as the midwife came in clutching a blue bundle. She went to pass the baby to Nate, but he held up his hands and shook his head.
"I think the real hero of the hour deserves the first hold," he said.
The baby went to Quinn. As soon as he touched her arms, the fear in her features melted away, replaced by something Nate couldn't quite place. He'd never seen her look at anyone like that before. He leaned forward, moving the blanket slightly, and touched the baby's soft skin with his thumb. It was an electric shock coursing through his system, and all at once he understood. He was beautiful; a miracle. He was...he was...
"Shaun," Quinn whispered, turning his tiny fingers over in her own. "We were still going to call him Shaun, right?"
"Yes," said Nate, barely aware that the nurses had slipped out of the room. "Shaun." Nate put his head on her shoulders and smiled. "So...this is the beginning of the best years of our lives?"
Quinn placed the gentlest of kisses on Shaun's head and smiled as she said, "I can't wait."
Quinn stood at the bar, a bottle of whiskey next to her, slowly depleting it as she drowned her sorrows. Vadim Bobrov looked her up and down, examining her power armour. His eyes settled on the helmet she had placed on the bar next to the whiskey, a large dent in the top.
"What caused that, friend?" he asked cheerfully as he cleaned out a shot glass.
"I threw a temper tantrum," Quinn replied, knocking back the cheap whiskey and filling up her glass. "And slam dunked it into the ground."
"Excellent!" Vadim said in a false tone that suggested it was not excellent at all.
The bar was near to closing, the usual drifters and drinkers either long gone or long since passed out on the sticky floor. Cigarette smoke hung like a heavy fog above their heads, adding to the dark and gloomy atmosphere. The dim lights flickered occasionally from the lamps and neon signs scattered around the place; Yefim Bobrov would descend upon each one and shake it until it stopped, a grim look on his face. The same face the last time I was here.
The last time... She had stumbled across the Dugout Inn when she and Piper had bluffed their way into Diamond City. After a quick peruse of Publick Occurrences, the smart-mouthed reporter had taken her for a much needed drink. It had been whiskey again, of course, and she'd drunk Piper right under the table. Quinn smiled bitterly at the memory and drained the fiery amber liquid, savouring the burn, even though it was less than pleasant. Her throat hurt, but she drank on. Soon she would be so numb she wouldn't feel at all, and that suited her just fine.
"...drinking to deal with your problems..."
Quinn stared down at her empty glass, her stomach writhing. As much as she despised the thought, Danse was right. Not just about the drink. All of it. The last few months had been a blur of horror that she could barely grasp, let alone accept. The world was gone. Her friends, her family, her life; obliterated. What did she have left? Nate could have pulled her through this, could have led the way to finding their son. But he lay dead underground, cold and alone, forever locked in the moment of his murder. And now here she was, focused on Shaun.
But what would happen when – no, if – she reached him? Then what? All that awaited them was carving out a bloody, brutal living in the wasteland, each day a fight to survive. How many times had she beaten that raider around the head? More times than necessary. It had felt different to shooting; personal, powerful, like she was finally in control. The very concept made her skin crawl. She had adapted far too quickly to the role of a monster; what kind of parent would make their child do the same?
Quinn picked up the whiskey bottle as firmly as she dared, gave the Bobrov brothers a curt nod, and stomped out to the exit. From behind her, she heard a small sigh of relief. She didn't care. Danse was right; she was a mess and she needed help. It was a strange feeling, to be so sure of something, but every fibre of her being knew he was the only one who could help her; the only one she wanted to help her.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside.
Diamond City, shrouded in twilight, greeted her. The buildings were stacked as high as the eye could see, like boxes piled on top of each other and turned into houses as an afterthought. Little electric lights hung from railings and walls, spattering the dwelling with glittering stars, close enough to touch. Only the central marketplace blazed with colour, every inch of it lit up like the sun. Colourful shawls and blankets draped over the stands and stalls; Quinn felt like she had been transported to an Arabian fairytale...with an odd, American baseball twist thrown into the mix.
When they had arrived into the city, Danse had stalked off on his own, ignoring the calls of his name. Asshole, she had thought, before settling herself into the seediest bar with the cheapest liquor. Quinn glanced around, the cold air making her head swim. It felt like she was in a constant state of drunk these days, alcohol being her only solace. Well, not her only solace.
Where the hell is Danse?
She'd really fucked it up this time. He'd opened up to her about Cutler, and at the first opportunity, she had used it against him. She needed to find him. She needed to apologise, as hard as she may find it. Swaying slightly, bottle clutched in her grip, she stomped off into the centre of Diamond City.
It was high in the lonely stadium seats that she found him. He was sat in his power armour, an open – but untouched – bottle of beer clutched between his hands. It looked tiny compared to the power armour, so much so that Quinn almost laughed. But the expression on his face drove away any mirth from her lips; he stared blankly ahead, his eyes dead and hollow, and didn't bother to look at her when she approached.
"Danse, I..." Quinn began. She swallowed, her mouth dry, her throat tight. She had never been any good at saying sorry. She had always hated admitting she was wrong. Danse stared down at his bottle as if she hadn't even spoken. "Fuck." Quinn rocked on her heels, her heart hammering in her chest. "I...I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry for what I said. I took something you said in confidence to me and I threw it back in your face. I just...I wanted to hurt you, because I was hurting. It was wrong, and you were right about...well, about everything. I put myself in the worst possible danger, to drive everything from my mind. I drink so I can forget. And if I die...then I don't have to be responsible for raising Shaun in this shitty world."
He did look up at her then, frowning, but still didn't speak. She sighed.
"Look, I know you're not going to forgive me for this. If at all. I wouldn't blame you if you did, I just..." She turned to leave.
"Whenever I try to help, I always push too far," he said in a quiet voice. "Whatever I do, it backfires, one way or another, even if I am certain it was right. I was too hard on you today. Again."
Quinn's heart felt like it was going to burst. "Bullshit," she said. "You told me something I should have been told a long time ago. You did what you thought was best. I was angry at first, but you were the kick up the ass I needed."
There was a long silence.
"I should never have questioned your dedication as a parent," Danse said, glancing down at the bottle again. "It's not something I could understand. Not truly. I apologise for-"
"No," Quinn said, waving his apology away. "No, I don't accept it."
"I see..." Danse looked crestfallen; the hand holding the bottle twitched.
She sat down next to him and drank deeply from hers. "You've got nothing to apologise for. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. I'd have died somewhere in the Commonwealth a long time ago, whether through being an idiot, or by just..." she paused, "...losing hope."
Danse's head turned sharply to her, his eyes wide. Quinn took a deep, trembling breath and continued.
"...if you hadn't helped me as much as you had, Shaun would be an orphan. That's a fact. You stop me going too far. No one else but Nate ever managed to do that." Her head was hurting. She raised the whiskey to her lips, but before it could make contact, it stopped. Danse held the bottom of the bottle, looking at her. Quinn considered this, and then nodded, letting Danse pluck it from her grasp.
He stood up, walked towards the edge of the seats, and poured the whiskey away. There was a pause, and then his beer followed with a smile. When he returned to her, Quinn had a giddy grin on her face.
"Give me the bottle," she said. The idea had struck her from nowhere, cutting through the gloom that had been clouding her thought. No one could ever say she didn't follow her impulses.
"Why?"
"Because I bet I can throw mine further than you can throw yours."
"That is utterly childish," Danse said, scowling, but still allowing her to take it back.
Quinn cranked back her arm and hurled it as hard as she could. It tumbled down into the marketplace and landed with a splat in the mud that sprayed up into the face of an unsuspecting guard.
Quinn cackled. "Yes! Score one for the pre-war relic! Eat that, palad-"
Danse stepped forward and with a loud grunt, launched his own bottle into the sky. It soared like a bald eagle, the wind whistling through the neck so that it seemed to scream as it flew across Diamond City. Quinn watched it, her mouth hanging open.
"Holy shit," she whispered.
"I think I win," Danse said with a triumphant grin.
The bottle curved down in a graceful arc, spinning in its descent, and hit one of the large spotlights that illuminated the marketplace, knocking out its light as the beer bottle exploded into a thousand pieces. Razor sharp shards rained down on the unsuspecting drunkards and guards below. The spotlight wobbled, teetered on the edge of its resting place, and then toppled down into the city, crashing straight through the roof of one of the stores.
Danse stared in open-mouthed horror, glancing at his hands, and then back at the fruits of his labour. Quinn clapped him on the back, smirking.
"You know, I think you're right," she said, picking up her dented helmet and sauntering off. "You won."
Danse threw a nervous look at the chaos below and followed her, his head bowed down. "Where are we going?" he hissed.
"To a friend's," Quinn replied. "She runs the local newspaper. I'm sure she'll give us a place to crash."
"I see." He fell silent again as they walked through the city, fixing his gaze firmly on the ground as they walked through the yelling security guards swarming around the collapsed roof. The owner was outside, throwing a fit, yelling that it had been lucky no one was inside. Danse seemed to relax at this, but he still looked troubled as they move past towards Publick Occurrences.
"I should confess," he said, throwing a glance back at the noisy scene. "That man will have to pay for his roof to be fixed because of me. It wouldn't be right of me to-"
Quinn caught his arm as he turned, pulling him towards her with a shake of her head. "Don't. People are already wary of the Brotherhood around here. If they realise what caused that little...accident, it could tarnish the Brotherhood's reputation as troublemakers. Leave it."
"But the cost of repairs-"
"I'll sort it out," said a new voice. "The paper can run a piece about a certain anonymous donation over the recent accident in Diamond City marketplace."
Quinn turned to see Piper stood at the open door of Publick Occurrences, arms folded and wearing a wry smile.
"Piper!" she cried, stomping over to hug her.
"Woah, Blue, easy!" Piper held up her hands, laughing. "Show me some love when you're out of your tin suit. I don't want any broken ribs."
"Sorry."
"No problem." She sniffed the air. "Have you been drinking?"
"Maybe a little," Quinn said sheepishly.
Piper rolled her eyes and jerked her head to the door. "Well, at least I was spared this time. Come on in and you can introduce me to your friend here."
She had tried to stay awake. She really had. Quinn had sat in her chair, Nuka-Cola in hand, listening to Piper's updates while she had been away – you know, I haven't seen Valentine in months. Not since you guys left on your little adventure – but alcohol had a funny way of making her sleepy. It wasn't until she dozed off, dropping her drink all over the carpet, that Piper had called it a night.
Sleep had come easily enough, despite the lumpy sofa hurting her back a little, and Danse's soft snores from the floor (he had insisted, but only after he'd mopped up her Nuka-Cola first). But her dreams had been broken and disturbed, and she found herself waking up several times throughout the night. Now she lay here, still feeling slightly drunk as she stared at the ceiling, wondering what awaited her in the morning. They were almost there. They were almost at Sanctuary.
Danse started to twitch, mumbling. Quinn watched him, uncertain what she should do. He had said to leave him, but…
Nate struggling, crying in his sleep, begging to God to stop. He was sorry, he was sorry, God, he was sorry.
She made a snap decision. Sliding off the sofa, Quinn crawled towards him, moving behind his head and out of his fighting arc, and clamped her hands down on his shoulders, shaking him hard. Danse gasped and lashed out, smacking his hand on the floor. Quinn quickly shuffled around him, using her body weight to pin him down, whispering to him.
"Danse, you're in Diamond City," she hissed, alarmed at how hard he was struggling. Nate had definitely not been as strong as this. She clung onto him anyway and continued, "and you're safe with me. You're safe-"
Her words were cut short as he shoved her off him with a grunt, pushing himself backwards across the floor until he was pressed up against the sofa, chest rising and falling frantically.
"Everything alright down there?" Piper called sleepily from upstairs.
"Fine!" Quinn replied, rubbing her smarting elbow as she sat up straight. She looked at Danse, who was blinking rapidly, realisation dawning on him. "I just...fell off the sofa. That's all."
Piper gave a quiet laugh. "You klutz, Blue." A few seconds later, Quinn heard her mumble and turn over. She had fallen asleep again.
Quinn turned her attention back to Danse; one hand was on the floor, holding himself up, the other digging its fingers deep into the cloth seats of the old sofa. His breathing was ragged, sweat dripping down him. Quinn picked herself up and grabbed an old towel that had been left on the table, parts of it stained with Nuka-Cola. It was dry, at least. She crouched down next to him and tried to wipe his face, but Danse pulled away from her, scowling.
"Don't," he said, struggling to talk between his gasping breaths. "Just...leave me alone."
I'm fine. Stop...stop fussing.
"Alright." She got to her feet, feeling helpless, useless. She had known how to calm Nate down, but Danse? It was a mystery to her. Quinn held back a sigh and made her way towards the front door for some fresh air.
"Wait." Danse's voice was a croak now, but she heard him all the same. Quinn stopped. He tried to speak, but kept tripping over his words, before eventually forcing out, "I'm sorry. I don't want...don't go."
Quinn looked at him, surprised, and then walked back to him, passing him the towel as she dropped down beside him. He took it without a word, rubbing it over his face and grimacing at the muck that came off with it.
"Looks like you owe Piper a new one," Quinn said, shooting him a little smile. Danse gave a small laugh and threw the towel at his feet, sighing.
"I am tired of seeing their faces," he mumbled.
"What?"
Danse frowned and shook his head. "Nothing."
An odd quiet fell over them. It was comfortable, but tense; Quinn had a feeling the paladin was building up the nerve to ask something, though she wasn't sure what. It was his body language. Every inch of him seemed constricted, as if he was waiting for a blow to strike him dead.
Several minutes passed. Finally, Danse cleared his throat. "I know this may sound like a strange question, but tell me...what do you think about Scribe Haylen?"
Where the hell does he get these weird questions? Quinn thought to herself. Instead, she said, "Scribe Haylen? Why, is something wrong with her?"
"No, not at all. Haylen's doing well. I simply wanted to talk to you about her, but I wanted to know what you thought of her first."
Quinn was confused. She barely knew Haylen, and Danse was aware of it. "She's as dedicated as they come. A real team player." Is that what he's looking for?
Apparently it wasn't. "I couldn't agree more. But I wasn't looking for an evaluation of her performance as a scribe. I wanted to know what you thought of Haylen...as a person."
Quinn laughed, despite herself. Paladin Danse, looking past someone's work ethic; stranger things had happened. "So there is a heart beating under all that armour after all."
Danse smiled. "I suppose I deserve that." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the room, his fingers tapping haphazardly on the floor. "I just don't normally find these discussions easy to handle, so I try to avoid them at all costs. The truth is, I'm worried about her. Since you and I are getting along so well, I felt like I could confide in you about it...to get your honest opinion."
"Well, I appreciate that you think you can talk to me," Quinn said, and she meant it. "But what's the problem with Haylen? Wouldn't she be better to talk to about this?"
"No." Danse shook his head, his body tensing up again. "A few months before you found us, one of my men was shot multiple times by Raiders. Haylen stayed by that Knight's side for two days straight without sleep, fighting to keep him alive...but he was on a slow decline. I decided that his suffering needed to end and ordered Haylen to administer an overdose of painkillers so he could die with dignity. Even though I'm certain she wanted to continue fighting for that Knight's life..." Danse stopped and sighed. "She injected him without question."
"Are you asking me whether or not I approve?" Quinn asked. It sounded like a horrendous decision to make, right or not. How many more hard decisions had he had to make over the course of his career?
"Of course not," Danse said, his tone suddenly harder. "I stand by every order I've ever given. That soldier was gravely wounded. Even if by some miracle he happened to survive, he would have been paralysed for life. But the decision whether or not to ease that soldier's suffering isn't the point here. The point is what happened later that same evening. Haylen approached me while I was on watch." The paladin went quiet, a series of emotions flickering across his face. He suddenly stood up, pacing about the room; when he spoke again, his voice was strained.
"She didn't say a word, but I could tell something was wrong. After what felt like an eternity, she collapsed into my arms, crying. I...didn't know what to do, so I just held her for a while. A few minutes later, she stopped, kissed me on the cheek, and simply said "Thank you" before heading back into the police station. Right then it hit me...maybe I pushed her too hard. I ordered her to ignore her instincts. To do something her medical training told her was wrong. That's why I'm worried about her...and for that matter, everyone under my command."
Quinn climbed to her feet, biting her lip. Had he been thinking about their argument earlier? Or was this something deeper, something that had been bothering him for longer than perhaps even he realised himself? She took a step towards him and said, "This isn't about Haylen, is it? It's about you. Talk to me, Danse."
He looked at her for a moment, and then seemed to sag, his shoulders dropping as he sighed and shook his head. "I can't hide it from you, can I? Look, four soldiers...over half my team, are gone. Each one of them died because of decisions that I made. I understand the risks that come with the job. We all do. But how can anyone have confidence in me anymore? Hell, how can I have confidence in myself?"
Danse's earlier words suddenly sprung to mind. What had he said?
I am tired of seeing their faces.
She was close to him now, close enough to touch him. Against her better judgement, Quinn reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. She was startled to find he was shaking again.
"If it makes you feel better," she said softly, "I believe in you." Her hand dropped away from him.
"Actually, it does." He glanced at where she had touched him and then looked back at her. His whole face, so anxious and confused moments before, had relaxed, ease spreading to every line and scar. Danse cleared his throat. "Well, looks like things have taken a turn. I signed up to be your sponsor so I teach you everything that I know, but it looks like I'm the one that needed the lesson today."
Quinn smiled as she walked back to the sofa and dropped down onto it, wincing as her head spun slightly. It seemed the whiskey wasn't through with her yet.
Danse followed suit, returning to his spot on the floor. "All joking aside," he said, "I'm pleased that we had this discussion, and with all the problems you're facing, you still took the time to listen. It's comforting to know that I can speak to you as more than just your commanding officer."
"Does this mean you'd be there to hold me if I ever needed it?" Quinn said without thinking. She stopped, her eyes widening. No, whiskey was certainly not done with her that night. She threw him a glance, noting his stunned expression, and then laid out on the sofa, cheeks burning. It had been a good end to the conversation, and yet here she was again, fucking it up.
To her great surprise, the paladin dignified her question with a response.
"I...I don't know," Danse stammered. "I never thought you'd ask me something like that. It would depend...on the circumstances, but I suppose we'll just have to see what happens when the time comes."
Quinn rolled onto her side and studied him. He was looking at her earnestly, if a little bit confused. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence now decidedly awkward. Danse coughed.
"Anyway, thanks for letting me get that off my shoulders," he said, lying back down on the floor. "I think it's been weighing on me more than I realised. I'm only sorry you had to see me at my worst, instead of at my best."
Quinn returned to lying on her back, pretending to be more interested in the ceiling than she really was. "Danse," she said, "if everyone's best was as half as good as your worst, the Commonwealth would be a much better place."
A/N: Thanks to hokuto-ju-no-ken and ravenbohique from tumblr for reading over this. How many of you caught the blatant RvB reference?
This chapter came about because I realised I've spent about eleven chapters looking over all of Danse's flaws, but not a single one of Quinn's. Perfect characters are boring. I want her to be wrong. I want her to be an asshole. I want her to someone you don't always get along with.
I hope I achieved that with this addition.