The Goddamn Teleporter
Dust swirled at Quinn's feet as she left the ruins of Boston city, Danse at her side. They walked in silence, crossing the northern bridge without incident. An old ship lay in ruins beneath it, wedged under the buckling frame, recent signs of life scattered across its rusting deck. Where its occupants were, Quinn wasn't too certain, but the splashes of blood on the bridge and boat, along with a rotting, bloated mirelurk corpse bobbing lazily in the water gave her a good idea. With this in mind, they crept across to the other side of the river; an old children's tale nestled itself firmly in Quinn's head.
Who's that trip-trapping on my bridge?
More blood now, and pieces of human body parts; a finger here, a leg there. Quinn edged around them feeling queasy as a swarm of flies erupted from the grisly offerings as she approached. She looked up, and saw with some relief they were close to the end now. A fresh set of ruins were in sight.
"Who's that trip-trapping on my bridge?" her father growled, peering over an old illustrated book, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
It's me, Quinn thought, clutching her weapon tight to her chest. What would jump out on the other side? The tales had said a troll, but in her mind, all she could think of was her father, scarred with radiation burns, his usual beer can still clutched in his gnarled grip.
Her feet hit solid ground and she breathed a sigh of relief. No monsters in sight, real or imaginary. Quinn scolded herself for her childish fancies and pushed on, catching up with Danse. He had barely spoken to her today; the morning had been quiet when they had left Diamond City after a hasty breakfast at the noodle bar. Perhaps if Piper had joined them, things would have been livelier, but she had said she would meet them at Sanctuary - something about having a donation drive article to write - and waved them off with a smirk at Danse's red face.
Quinn couldn't stop thinking about last night. The comment she had made - so flippant, so easy - was fresh in her mind, making her stomach crawl with embarrassment and guilt...and also intrigue.
Does this mean you'd be there to hold me...?
He hadn't said no.
It was almost peaceful, she thought, staring out at the desolate landscape. The chaos of the city felt like a distant memory. Quinn smiled bitterly to herself. It was a warped reflection of how things had been in her time, all those years ago. She walked on, and found herself wondering what Danse was thinking about. Had he forgotten what she had said, or was he choosing to ignore it? Did he care at all, or had she made him uncomfortable with it? Maybe she had gone too far again; he'd reacted almost the same last time she had...
But he didn't say no.
The ring around her neck was pulling down on her again, a terrible burden that increased with every thought and fancy. It felt as if it wanted to drag her into the earth and suffocate her; perhaps soon it would tighten and choke her instead. Nate had been dead only a few months and already her eyes were wandering, her thoughts straying from the promise she had made at the altar.
But what is Danse thinking?
"I need to know something, soldier," Danse said, making her jump.
Oh crap.
"Yeah?"
"Yesterday you said-"
oh crap oh crap oh crap
"-that you didn't care about the Brotherhood and that you may not return to the Prydwen once we have your son."
Oh. Was this disappointment she felt? Quinn shifted uncomfortably in her armour as Danse went on.
"My question is," Danse said, "why did you join the Brotherhood if you have no apparent interest in our goals or...well, anything about us?" He frowned. "I feel like I have misjudged your character; I was under the impression you embraced our values. And if I have that wrong about you, then what else am I mistaken about?"
Quinn sighed. Her feelings for the organisation were so complicated, she barely understood them herself; how could she explain her thoughts to someone as dedicated as Danse? Still, if there was someone she wanted to understand, it was him. Maybe he would be as confused as her, but she could at least try to explain.
"When I said that I didn't care, I was just…" Quinn tried to find the right words, "...I was just talking shit, really. Shaun is my priority, and he always will be. When you tried to bring the Brotherhood into it as a way to make me see sense, I didn't want to hear it. You can be as dedicated to a cause as you like, but when you have a child…the world you know ceases to exist. What you were is gone forever, and in its place is this child that you made. I joined the Brotherhood originally because I thought it could help me find my boy. So far, it hasn't delivered, but…" she trailed off.
"But?" Danse prompted. He was watching her intently now.
"But...Christ. I don't know how to begin explaining this." Quinn rocked on her heels, searching for something that made sense. "I think this goes way back, before the war. Before I even met Nate."
"How?"
"Well..." God, what was that phrase her mom had always used? The words seemed to rise from the depths of her past, like ice in a cool summer's drink. How could she ever have forgotten them? "As my mom used to say..."
"You are off the rails, Quinn!"
Quinn said nothing. She sat in the back seat of the car, the city lights sliding across her window as she stared out into the night. Next to her, her mom seethed, jerking the car with every turn. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, growing heavier with every passing second. Quinn shut her eyes, ignoring the spinning sensation inside her head.
"How many times?" her mom said suddenly, making a clunky gear change. "How many times are we going to go through this?"
Quinn shrugged, resting her head against the cool glass of the window.
"Don't you just shrug at me! The police had to call me to pick you up, because you were too drunk to walk home safely. The police!"
"Yes, the police."
The car stopped dead as her mom slammed down on the brakes; Quinn yelped as she hit her head on the door window. Car horns sounded behind them like a terrible orchestra, but her mom ignored it, glaring at her.
"Enough back chat! I am sick of your shit!"
If the sudden halt hadn't surprised her, the swearing certainly did. Quinn gaped at her mother; she never swore, wouldn't abide it in her house. And yet here she was, giving her a colourful dressing down, close to tears.
"Mom..." Quinn said weakly, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Her mom shook her head, put the car into gear, and started driving again.
"I'm at the end of my tether, Quinn," she said in a small voice. The quiet disappointment was worse than her shouting. "You didn't used to be like this. Now all you do is drink and cause trouble and hang out with that Kaspie boy."
"His name is Mark," Quinn said, turning back to the window and shutting her eyes again, "and I love him." It was true. She did love Mark. He was the coolest person she had ever met - he knew how to have fun. He drank. He smoked. He took drugs. And he was never, ever caught. Mark was the kind of guy that just didn't give a shit, and had the charisma to carry it off without a hitch; he was everything she craved, everything she wanted to be. Though Quinn would never admit it out loud, the idea of not caring anymore was something she needed so deeply she thought she would break with the longing.
"Maybe you do, but he's a bad influence. You're out of control, and you have been ever since your dad and I-"
"Don't." Quinn didn't want to think about the divorce. She didn't want to think about the hole in her life, labelled with her father's name. She didn't want to think about how utterly reluctant he was to fill it again. "Please, mom...don't."
"It's been hard, I know it has. It's been hard on me, too, what with..." Her mom breathed out hard through her nose. Quinn knew she wouldn't utter Yvonne's name; not now, not ever. "...that hussy and-"
"Mom!" Quinn's voice took on a pleading note, and her mother fell silent. She sighed.
"I'm sorry, honey, I really am, but..." she glared, realisation coming to her, "wait, I'm supposed to be kicking your ass right now."
"Can it wait until tomorrow?"
"...Alright." Her mom tapped her fingers on the steering wheel irritably. "But tomorrow we are going to start taking things seriously again. Your father wants you to get into college-"
"Fuck him."
"Quinn!"
"You swore twice! We're even!" Quinn didn't have to open her eyes; she could feel her mother's annoyance from where she was sat.
"Fine," she said eventually, sounding irked, "but not one more cuss out of you!" She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, your father wants you to get into college, and so do I." She said the last part loudly, drowning out Quinn's complaints. "So we're going to work on putting you back on track. Enough is enough. You're going to get control over your behaviour. Understood?"
"...OK."
Quinn stared out into space, forgetting everything except that fateful car journey, over two hundred years ago. Her mother had become a dragon, clamping down on her, pushing her to finish high school, dragging her through every hurdle to get her into college. What would have happened if she'd never made it that far? She would certainly have never met Nate. Mark may have even dumped her earlier, going off to college alone, leaving her a ruined mess of his own design, with a developing alcohol addiction. And then when the bombs fell…
but maybe I would have been able to say goodbye to mom
"Quinn?" Danse said.
Quinn jumped, coughed, and carried on with a slight stammer. "Th-then as you know, I managed to get into college anyway. My ex broke up with me, and I met Nate. At first I stuck by my old habits, but…"
"You can't keep doing this, Quinn!" Nate snapped, snatching the stolen cigarettes from her hand and throwing them across her dorm room.
Quinn started to laugh. "He gave me an ultimatum: him or my roguish ways. I told him to get the fuck out of my dorm. But within two days I was ringing him up, begging him to take me back, that I'd clean up my act for good."
"And had you?"
"In a manner of speaking." She had never stolen anything physical again, that was for sure. And she'd cut back on the drinking. But she'd never told Nate that she'd carried on hacking into computers and stealing all the test answers to sell to the other students. A dirty little secret he never knew...and now would never know. Her mirth died almost instantly.
Danse waited patiently for a few seconds for her to speak. When she continued to stare ahead, he chipped in with another question. "How does this relate to your feelings about the Brotherhood? I'm lost."
"After a few years together, we married. My mom was proud. My dad was not." But fuck him, she thought. "Mostly we married so I could move on base with him and get away from home. And from any...naughty influences. We were young at the time, early twenties, and the best we could afford for our rings was…"
Quinn hesitated and then smiled. Yes, she would show him. She stopped and pressed the switch to release her from her power armour, ignoring Danse's confusion. With a grunt, she slid out of her shell, dusted herself down, and then reached down into the front of her shirt. Danse watched her, wide-eyed, as she pulled free the dirty piece of string from which Nate's wedding ring hung. Then she held up her own hand to show hers.
"They're absolute pieces of shit," she said fondly, "the cheapest things we could find. And I love them for it." Quinn leant against her power armour and stared out onto the horizon below. "Moving to that base was the best thing that could have happened to me. Even though I was left out of any of the military doings, you could feel the discipline in the air; almost taste the order and security. For the first time since I was thirteen, I had stability in my life. And that is exactly what I feel about the Brotherhood."
"The Brotherhood makes you feel...stable?"
Quinn nodded. "It makes me think of home, with Nate, before...everything. It's discipline. It's order. It's the idea that even though the world is completely fucked up, you...we have the resources and the leadership to make a difference. But..."
"There's that 'but' again," Danse said with a frown.
Quinn gave a small shrug. "I don't always agree with the methods. Perhaps I'm a woman out of my time, but the Brotherhood spends so much energy hoarding technology, when it could be helping people."
"We help people by protecting them from themselves," Danse said flatly, tapping his fingers on his gun.
"It's one thing to take a knife away from a child so they don't hurt themselves, but if you don't feed and look after them, then what difference have you made?"
Danse looked less than impressed. "You of all people should understand the evils of technology and how easily they can be abused. You experienced it firsthand. Look what it did to the world! Surely you can see that it should be our priority to deal with that first."
"Yes, and I agree with that," Quinn replied, shrugging again. "But can't you see what the Brotherhood is capable of achieving when it sets its mind to it? An airship, built with two hundred year old scrap! The Prydwen is an absolute marvel, even by pre-war standards. Are you saying the Brotherhood couldn't deal with technology hoarding and help the people of the wasteland make better lives for themselves? It just doesn't seem right. And that's before we even get into the attitude towards ghouls and-"
"Let's not start that argument again," Danse said, holding up his hand to stop her. Quinn was glad. She had almost said 'and synths'; that would have opened up an entirely different can of worms. Danse studied her, frowning, but then nodded. "I may not agree with you, but I can see the merit in your argument. You have given me something to think on."
He waited for her as she climbed back into her armour, and then set off by her side once more. "It pleases me," he said, "that the Brotherhood reminds you of home. That's something we have in common. It's the only real home I've ever had, the only place where I've had my own bed, my own quarters, and a hot meal ready for me every day." He stared out into the distance, lost in thought for a moment, and then looked at her. "Stable foundations are important, and after the unforgiving unpredictability of my childhood..."
Danse sighed to himself and smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without the Brotherhood."
They skirted through Sanctuary with barely a second glance, the inhabitants casting wary looks at the distant, hulking figures of Quinn and Danse. No one approached them, which was fine by Quinn. With her helmet on, she would appear as nothing but a stranger to them; even Preston, normally so warm towards her, watched from afar, his hands tight on his gun. Quinn and Danse passed through with no trouble, and began the slow climb up the hill.
"I thought we were going to Sanctuary?" Danse asked as they left the shabby settlement behind.
"We are," Quinn said, "but there's something I need to do first."
Danse followed her without another word, though she could sense his confusion. On they trudged, higher and higher up the winding path. The skeletons started to appear, some wearing ragged civilian clothes, others wearing military uniform.
Panic choking the air as hordes of people fight to get through the tiny metal gate. Fighting, pushing, crying; a gunshot fires into the air, a lit match against people's terror. Screams explode through the crowd and the shoving begins, kindly neighbours transforming to raging monsters as they wrestle with the soldiers for their guns. Quinn looks back down the hill as they open fire, old and young alike razed down by the bullets.
"Quinn!" Nate screams, Shaun pressed to his chest. "Come on!"
Her breath was coming quick now, her chest tightening as she struggled against her panic. Quinn kept on walking, retracing her steps, the memory burnt into her mind by fallout fire. The metal platform was near now, tangled by dead weeds and shrouded by dirt.
The fire. The fire in the sky is spreading. It rushes towards her the way water rushes through a broken dam into a valley. Quinn crouches down, shielding her face as the wind picks up, the air dry and hot, an acrid smell suddenly stinging her nose. She stares at Nate as he turns his back to the mushroom cloud, protecting their son with his body; in that moment, she loves him more than she could ever say, could ever hope to tell him.
The floor rumbles, and they are swallowed by darkness.
Quinn's legs gave way and she toppled to her knees on the platform. She was suffocating, her lungs clawing for breath as her throat betrayed her, cutting her off. Making a gasping noise, she fell forward onto all fours, a dizziness sweeping over her as the floor rumbled and began to move down.
"Deep breaths, soldier." A familiar voice cut through the haze. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. Come on, do that for me now. Deep breaths, with me."
Danse was crouching down beside her, removing her helmet with the emergency external clamps. Quinn wheezed as he pulled her into a sitting position and held her upright. Her hands grabbed for his without thinking, and despite the barrier of the armour, she felt her throat relax slightly as the huge ceiling panels shut over them with a loud clang. Sweet air began to leak back into her, each breath more delicious and satisfying than the last.
After a few minutes, she felt almost normal again, except for the shakes. With a weak smile and a nod, she let him help her to her feet. "...Thank you."
"You're welcome." His eyebrows knotted together as he scanned her with sharp eyes. "Is everything alright"
"Just..." Quinn motioned to the dimly lit area, "...the vault."
"Ah. Old ghosts?"
Or new ones. "Yeah, you could say that." She looked around, feeling tense. This was a strange thing for him to follow her into; she had to give him the option at least. "If you want to stay behind, you can. Don't feel the need to force yourself through here for my sake. I'll only be a few minutes."
"Negative. The old vaults are a death trap for the unprepared. You never know what you'll find down here."
Quinn frowned. Either Danse was completely oblivious as to where they were - which could be likely, as she had never mentioned the number of the vault she had emerged from - or he was trying very hard to play it cool. One look at his earnest face told her it was the former; the man was not a talented liar. Part of her wanted to warn him what he was letting himself in for, but the rest of her simply didn't have the energy to bring up the conversation. He would find out soon enough, one way or another. If he wanted to leave then, she wouldn't blame him.
The real world seemed to blend with her memories, flickers of the past invading her thoughts as Quinn made her way through the vault; the panic, the shock, the calm way the staff herded them towards their final resting place.
Their final resting place, Quinn thought dully, not mine.
Skeletons wearing vault suits littered the floor, bullet holes and scorch marks marring the smooth, metal surroundings. Deeper they walked, the walls and ceiling feeling like they were pressing down on her with the weight of the earth above. Quinn's chest tightened as she realised she was encased in steel twice over; the vault and her power armour. Her body started to tremble again, and she staggered to the side, leaning against the corridor wall as her breath choked in her throat once more.
Nate, walking in front of her, Shaun crying, vault-tec staff swarming everywhere. Pulling at her clothes. Pressing a new vault suit into her hands. Leading them away for processing. She wants to hold Shaun, wants to take him into her arms, but she knows Nate would never let him go.
"Soldier?"
"I need to get out of this..." Quinn wheezed as Danse looked on, alarmed and confused. "...this fucking...thing." She hit the switch and felt cool air rush in as the armour released her. Struggling hard, Quinn fell out backwards, landing with a bump that knocked the wind out of her. The metal floor bit into her bare hands, the ice and frost jagged beneath her fingers, and all at once, she was lost.
"Nate!"
Quinn smashed her fists on the frosted glass, her arms as heavy as lead, hands aching as she tried to break through the glass. The frost was tearing into her skin, stinging her, devouring her. Two figures crowded around her husband's pod, opening it to reveal him...and Shaun. The strangers reached into the pod and tried to take hold of their son.
Thud
Thud
Thud
"Nate!" Her throat was raw, every movement an effort in the overwhelming cold. "Nate! Nate!" If he could just hear her, he'd be alright. Nate knew what to do. He always knew what to do. If she could just scream loud enough, everything would be fine. "Nate!"
The gunshot ripped through her as Nate's body jerked, his arms falling limp. He slumped inside his pod, and the strangers held Shaun in their clutches.
Nate Nate NateNatenatenatenate
The word repeated over and over like a skipping record. Was she still screaming his name? Had she even made a noise at all? Quinn didn't know. Her mind was blank, her eyes drawn to Nate's still form, blood rushing out of the fresh wound. Then instinct kicked in and all thought of Nate was driven from her mind. He was no longer important.
Shaun.
Quinn beat on the glass again, her blows so powerful, the door seemed to rattle. Where was her son? She could see in the darkness a figure dressed in white, holding a small bundle close to their chest. Then a face obscured her view, harsh and grim, fierce lines etching out an expression devoid of empathy.
He said something, but the ringing in Quinn's ears drowned him out. And then he was gone, and all that remained was a cryo pod containing her husband. Was he still alive? He wasn't moving. Oh god, Nate.
The chill was increasing. It was getting harder to breathe. It-
"Quinn!"
"Nate!" Quinn screamed, kicking out with her feet, struggling against the strong grip that pinned her to the wall. She struck metal, her foot bouncing away with a clunk. Quinn didn't care. Again and again she kicked out, shrieking for Nate.
"You're in the Commonwealth!" the voice yelled back at her. It did not belong to Nate, but it carried an undeniable authority. "And you are safe!"
Her struggles lessened, and the voice immediately dropped in volume. "You're in the Commonwealth," it repeated gently, "and you are safe."
"Danse?" Quinn blinked, her panic slowly lifting. The paladin was crouched down in front of her, his metal-plated hands holding her firmly on the spot. His face was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were wide, but focused.
"Are you with me, soldier?" he asked, loosening his grip slightly.
Quinn looked around, chest heaving up and down, and realised she was sat on the floor. Further down the corridor, she could see her power armour, locked in position where she had abandoned it. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Quinn nodded. Danse let go of her, but remained where he was. She raised a shaking hand to wipe her face, and was stunned to see it come away drenched in cold sweat.
"What happened?" she asked, though she suspected the answer.
"You were..." Danse fumbled with his words, "...having difficulties, and left your power armour. The next thing I know, you started screaming. I didn't know what to do, so I...so I dragged you out of the cold and copied what you do for me."
Quinn looked back down the corridor as she took a few more gulping breaths. It had been the cold which had set her off. It had to be. Shivering slightly, Quinn looked around at the heavy metal walls and floor. Maybe it was a combination of this place as well. She tried to stand, but Danse forced her to sit back down again.
"I think you need another minute," he said in a strained voice, his features torn by worry. "And I think I need to know what caused such an episode."
"This..." Quinn tried to start, but found the words stuck in her throat. She coughed, licked her lips, and took another stab at it. "This is where I came from. This is my vault."
Danse flinched. "Your vault?" He looked around, comprehension dawning on him as he stared down the frosted corridor. "Why have you come back here?"
Quinn moved to get to her feet, and this time Danse stood back and let her. He offered her a hand, and she accepted it, not trusting her shaking legs to hold her weight. She wiped the rest of her face with her sleeve – more to delay giving an answer than anything else – and then spoke. "Because the way into the Institute isn't safe. It isn't even stable. It might work, it might not. It might even kill me." Quinn glanced towards the cryo room and bit her lip. "I wanted to see him one last time before I went. To say goodbye."
It seemed Danse had no answer to this. But after a few moments, he nodded. "Do you want me to leave you?"
"I..." Quinn considered this. The idea of walking into that room again hit a chord of terror so deep in her heart she thought she would faint. She shook her head. "I don't want to go in there by myself." Quinn stopped, shooting Danse a nervous glance, and quickly added, "But I know this must be awkward for you. I'll come back here another time. I'll-"
"Let's go."
"What?"
He nodded down the corridor. "You don't want to be alone. I am here. Let's go." He held a hand out in a gesture towards the cryo room, motioning for her to take the lead.
Nate's tomb was cold and dark, lit only by emergency lighting. His pod was sealed shut, as she had left it, the window frosted over. Quinn approached with care, and having left her power armour behind, found her footsteps so light she could barely hear them. Ice crunched like bones beneath her shoes as she drew closer. Quinn raised a shaking hand and tried to wipe away the mist from the glass, but it remained clouded over. No. She hadn't wanted to do it like this; she didn't want to open the pod.
Danse bowed his head slightly as she threw him a fearful glance from across the room. He had kept his distance. Although his face was deadly serious, when he spoke, his voice was unimaginably soft. "Take all the time you need, soldier."
I can't do this, Quinn thought as she hit the controls to the pod. I can't face him. I can't...
The pod let out a long, menacing hiss as it opened, misted air blasting out and covering the floor so she could no longer see her feet. With bated breath, Quinn moved around the open door and came face to face with her husband.
He looked exactly the same as the day he died, jaw slack, body slumped, and his eyelids drooped almost shut, revealing a sliver of his dark brown irises. His skin was tinged an awful grey, coat with a thin layer of frost, thicker icicles hanging from his hair and the angles of his face. She remembered leaning forward, taking the ring from his solid fingers; so cold, so unreal. It wasn't Nate anymore, and yet the inhuman feel of his hands was the last memory she had of him.
Quinn wasn't aware she had fallen to her knees until a sharp pain shot through them. She ignored it. What did it matter? Nate was gone. Shaun was gone. She knew she wasn't going to get either of them back. The project would fail, and she would die never seeing her son again. Her baby boy.
Fingers scrabbled at the string around her neck, and it took Quinn a moment to realise they were her own. With a rough impatience, she pulled the ring free over her head, holding it aloft so it twisted lazily on the string. "I feel like I should give it back."
clunk clunk clunk
"Pardon?"
Quinn could sense Danse stood behind her. "Nate's ring," she said. "I should give it back."
"Why?" Danse said. The confusion in his voice was clear, but why didn't he understand? Wasn't he aware of what she had been doing, what she had been feeling? She had no more right to wear these rings than a chem-sucking raider did. And then there was the issue of...
"I stole it from him," Quinn said flatly. "I took it from his body. I see him murdered, and the first I think to do – the only thing I thought to do – was to take his wedding ring from him. I'm no better than a grave robber. I don't deserve it." This too was true, though it wasn't the only thing that was causing her conflict these days.
"Keep it," Danse said. "You're not a thief; it rightfully belongs to you. You bought them together, as a couple – as a team. I think he'd want you to have them...and when you find your son, you have a keepsake of his father to pass onto him."
She hadn't considered this. It was almost enough to dull the guilt. Quinn said nothing, but after a while, she looped the string back around her neck. Then she said, with an edge of bitterness, "I wish I could bury him. I hate leaving him down here."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because he deserves better than this," Quinn said, gesturing to the cryo pod. "He was a soldier, as dedicated as they come. He should have a proper military funeral, not being buried in some irradiated pit in the wasteland."
A silence followed these words. Quinn activated her Pip-Boy and Nate's voice filled the vault. She could almost believe he was sleeping. Any second, he would open his eyes and complain that his back was sore, or that he couldn't find his screwdriver, or that the baby was getting through his diapers far too quickly, or "Hun, it's only ten degrees out there; do I have to do my tinkering in the shed?", or any of the other stupid, meaningless things that used to annoy her. She missed them. She missed him.
Behind her, Quinn heard Danse move away again; she ignored him and stared at Nate's body, letting his voice smother her with memories.
"Bye honey, we love you."
Click.
Quinn sighed and stood up, moving back to the control panel and pressing the buttons with fierce, stabbing motions. As the pod closed with a loud clunk, she turned and walked away without a second glance. "Come on. I'm sick of this place."
It was only when they reached the dirty sunlight of the Commonwealth that Quinn began to feel normal again. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the wilderness, so different from the stale air of the vault. "God, I never thought I'd miss the wasteland."
Danse watched her carefully. "How are you doing, soldier?"
"Better," Quinn said, giving him a weak smile. She stared out onto the horizon, Sanctuary just visible through the dead trees. Better was an odd word to use; it implied improvement, but not that she was fixed. In truth, Quinn felt drained, with barely enough energy to walk. Yet at the same time, somehow lighter. Still, she knew if she hadn't managed to get back into her armour, Danse may have had to carry her out. "Thank you for what you did in there. I didn't realise it would be so bad, revisiting that place."
"You're welcome." He smiled back at her. "And considering how much you've listened to my problems, you can count on me for support when you need it."
"I'll try to remember that."
They set off back down to Sanctuary together, the wobble in Quinn's step lessening the further away from the vault they went. It was as they were halfway down the hill that Danse's suddenly spoke.
"You said in the vault that the way into the Institute could kill you. What the hell are you doing that could risk that?" He sounded tense, frowning at her as he spoke.
"Danse, my friend," Quinn said, wondering if he was even going to believe her, "we're going to build a goddamn teleporter."
A/N: I was stuck on what to name this chapter, and I was going to call it 'Foundations of the Earth', but then I decided to be an utter child instead.