Danse Macabre
Hancock and Piper pounced on Quinn the second she returned to Sanctuary, the two of them puffing on cigarettes, a cloud of smoke following them as Piper said, "Blue, we need to talk. Now." She jabbed her thumb in the direction of one of the old houses, glaring.
Quinn sighed. This had been expected of course - Piper wasn't the kind of woman to just let things drop. But Hancock's involvement was surprising. Normally he was too high to get worked up about anything.
Best get it out of the way now. With a nod to Danse she said, "I'll be a minute," and trailed after her friends. She glanced back as she walked away and saw his eyes were fixed on Hancock, his gun tight in his hands.
Well, at least he's not-
"You wanna tell me what the hell is going on, sunshine?"
Hancock's abrupt question snapped her out of her musing, and she found herself greeted by the ugly glare on his face. Quinn blinked. "What?"
His laugh was about as pleasant as his expression. "Oh come on, don't insult my intelligence. You come back from that place screaming and ready to burn down the settlement, and then the next morning you're avoiding everyone except the tin can?" He sneered in the direction of Danse. "Startin' to feel a little bit out of the loop here, and I don't like it. What, you don't trust the ghoul anymore?"
"No. I just don't feel ready to talk," Quinn said. "And last I checked, Piper's not a ghoul and she don't know shit either. So what's really got you pissed off?"
"Isn't that enough?" Piper snapped before Hancock could reply. "We're supposed to be your friends, Blue! Why are you shutting us out like this?"
Quinn groaned, rubbing her face in frustration and then clutching at her hair. They were so demanding. Couldn't they just be like Preston and leave her alone?
"Why do you care so much?" she said finally, letting her hands drop. "Why do you see me going through hell and want to know every fucking detail?" She rounded on Piper. "Do you want to write another story about the frozen vault dweller?" Ignoring Piper's shocked expression, she turned to Hancock. "And you-"
"We want to help you, asshole," Hancock snarled. "Though I'm starting to wonder why we're bothering."
"How could you think I'd want to talk about this for a story?" Piper whispered.
Quinn deflated, wishing the earth would swallow her. Here she was again, taking it out on other people. She hung her head. "I'm sorry."
She tried to retreat, but Piper caught hold of her arm and pulled her close. Quinn fell into her embrace and hugged her tight, thinking she might cry for the billionth time that day. Instead, the emptiness greeted her, her body too far gone for tears. There was a long pause, and she sensed an unspoken conversation passing between Piper and Hancock.
"Blue," Piper said in Quinn's ear, "you can tell us anything, y'know. We love you."
"Speak for yourself," said Hancock, but Quinn felt his hand press on her back, rubbing it gently. "Come on, let's go inside and have a beer."
"Okay." Quinn released her friend and straightened up, feeling defeated as she let Hancock and Piper lead her into the house. They sat her down, and Piper bustled around in a cupboard, pulling out dusty bottles from an even dustier shelf. She came back and handed out the bottles, which turned out to be Nuka-Cola. Hancock scowled.
"No booze?"
"No," Piper said, prising off the bottle cap with the edge of the battered coffee table and then putting the cap in her pocket. "If you ask me, you both drink too much."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at Hancock and opened her bottle on the table too. "Best do what the lady says, Mayor."
Hancock grumbled as he opened his Nuka-Cola and swigged from it. "I can spice things up my own way." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a jet canister, opening it and inhaling, a dreamy look spreading across his face.
"Hancock, is this really the moment?" Piper hissed, glaring at him.
"It's always the moment in my opinion." He giggled to himself and sat up in his chair, looking as pointedly at Quinn as he could manage, his eyes unfocused. "Right, to business."
Quinn bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the barrage of questions.
"How can we help you?"
Quinn opened her eyes to find Hancock leaning forward and smiling. She licked her lips nervously. "You're not going to ask me what happened?"
"We tried that already, didn't we? I mean, if you want to talk I'm all ears - well, I would be if I had any - but I get the impression that you're…"
"It's like you said," Piper interjected, shrugging. "You're not ready. But I'm sure you'll tell us when you are."
Quinn thought her heart might burst with gratitude. "I'd like to just...I don't want to think. I want a distraction. But I can't. I need to-"
"You don't need to do anything." Hancock put his feet on the coffee table, his smile slightly lopsided now. "You don't need to go anywhere, or save anyone, or...or any of the other usual shit that you do." He took a deep puff of the jet, and then pulled out another jet inhaler, tossing it to her. "But you do need to stop for a little bit. Relax. So how about I tell you what happened in Goodneighbor after you left? The airplane wing had to come from somewhere."
He launched into the tale without further ado, and in seconds both Piper and Quinn were in stitches, howling with laughter at his escapades across the Commonwealth to get his sled of scrap to Sanctuary. Quinn would never have expected it to involve a game of irradiated strip poker, an extremely confused molerat dressed as Jangles the Moon Monkey, and a plunger, and yet Hancock delivered.
"I don't know how the Gunners thought they could beat me at radiation endurance," Hancock cackled, speaking over the giggles of the two women. "Maybe they thought I'd turn feral before they lost their hair."
"Speaking of funny," Piper said when she'd calmed down enough to form coherent words, "you'll never guess what happened in Diamond City when I first met Paladin Danse."
"Oh, Piper," Quinn giggled, knowing what was coming.
"The tin can, funny?" Hancock snorted. "Now this I gotta hear."
Piper relayed the story of Danse throwing the beer bottle, and the chaos that followed, Quinn enthusiastically filling in the gaps of Piper's knowledge as she went. When they reached the part where the light fell through the ceiling of the store below, Hancock snorted cola out of his nose cavity. At that precise moment, Preston stepped into the house and patted Hancock on the back as the ghoul choked and spluttered into his bottle.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, sitting on the sofa next to Quinn as Piper passed him a Nuka-Cola.
Nick was the last to arrive, drawn over by the noise of Preston and Quinn playfully bickering about whether the Prydwen or the Castle were better as a headquarters, while Piper and Hancock egged them both on.
"Take away the vertibirds and the fuel, and all you have is a big, metal balloon, ready to be popped," Preston said, before swigging the dregs of his cola.
"No, the Prydwen is a complete package, 'birds and all," Quinn argued back. "Same with the Castle and its artillery. Only difference is, the Prydwen can move. Drink, Nick?"
Nick rolled his eyes and declined, but took the opportunity to quickly change the subject; he entertained all of them with tales of his old cases that left Quinn on the edge of her seat, desperate to know what happened next. It was only when she had drained her third Nuka-Cola, she realised hours had passed.
"Shit," she said, standing up. "I told Danse I'd only be a few minutes."
"I invited him in," Preston said quickly, "but he said he'd leave you with us for now while he kept an eye on the area."
"I said I'd only be a few minutes," Quinn repeated, a little more desperately.
"So?" Hancock wheezed from his chair. "Let the tin can patrol."
"We're going to the Glowing Sea. I can't leave him hanging around when I have shit to organise for the trip."
A heavy silence fell over the gathering.
"The Glowing Sea, kid?" Nick asked, frowning. "After you just got back?"
"Well, we'll go with you," Piper said, also getting to her feet. "Nothing we can't handle."
"No."
"No?" several voices said at once. Quinn looked from face to worried face and shook her head.
"No. It's too dangerous."
"Yeah, no shit," said Hancock, frowning. "You think we want to go to take in the great, irradiated countryside?"
"General," Preston said, his usual gentle tone spiked with concern, "at the very least let Hancock and Nick go with you. The radiation won't affect them. Though I'd rather we all went."
Murmurs of agreement rippled across the room.
Quinn folded her arms. "Nick, do you have power armour?"
"No?" he replied, clearly confused.
"Hancock, do you have power armour?"
"No, why the fuck would I ha-?"
"Piper?" Quinn asked, interrupting the ghoul. "Preston?"
They both shook their heads.
"I thought as much." Quinn lifted up her shirt and revealed the scar in her side. She'd taken the bandages off while she'd been in the Institute, letting one of the doctors there check it over at Father's request. Quinn held her shirt up while her friends peered at the injury, and looked at each of them in turn. "I ran into a deathclaw on my trip here, and it did that to me through my power armour with a glancing blow. If it hadn't been for Danse pulling me out of the way, I'd have been dead."
Quinn let her shirt drop back down. "The Glowing Sea is teeming with them. Danse and I can probably sneak past them thanks to the dust storms, but if we're spotted, we're going to have a hell of a fight on our hands. I know you want to help me, and I appreciate the sentiment, I really do...but sentiment and good intentions won't stop you being ripped apart by whatever is lurking in that hellhole. I don't want…" Her voice broke. She shook her head and continued, speaking forcefully. "I don't want to lose anyone else."
"Kid, I went with you the first time and you didn't have a problem," Nick said. "What's changed since then?"
"Experience," Quinn replied. "And caution. I had no idea what I was really getting myself into when I went with you. It was sheer luck we didn't run into anything nasty while we were there. But I'm starting to take the Commonwealth seriously at last, and that means none of you are going with me."
"But the tin man is," Hancock muttered.
"He has power armour," Quinn said, feeling her patience wear thin again. "You don't. There's nothing else to it."
Oh, but there is, she thought to herself. And you know there is. You're scared. You're scared what you might do if you're alone, if he's not there to keep you in line. The others can't stop you, or won't stop you; they like the chaos or they like you too much to challenge you. You're nothing by yourself - just a frightened, broken girl who needs someone to stop her going over the edge. Stupid, weak bitch, you-
"Quinn?"
Quinn blinked. Everyone was staring at her. She coughed. "I'm going, and that's pretty much the end of the discussion. Please try to understand why."
"We understand," Piper sighed. "Doesn't mean we have to like it."
They all nodded - even Hancock, though he was somewhat reluctant about it. Quinn smiled.
"Thank you," she said, and she really meant it. "For trusting me, and...for all of this." She gestured towards the empty bottles of cola. "I needed a break."
"Just make sure you come back here when you're done traipsing across that death trap," Preston said, before hurriedly adding, "General."
Quinn laughed. "I promise I'll return to Sanctuary afterwards. None of you need to wait for me, though. If you're not here, I'll visit you in Diamond City and Goodneighbor to let you know I'm alright."
"If it's all the same to you," Nick said, shifting in his chair, "I'll wait."
"Me too," chimed in Piper.
"Preston, what's your chem trade like over here?" Hancock asked. Preston shrugged.
"Reasonable, I guess. Trashcan Carla needs a new customer since Mama Murphy stopped using."
"Poor old girl." Hancock sighed, shaking his empty jet inhaler and then tossing it onto the coffee table. "It'll do, though. I'm staying." He shot Quinn a teasing grin and she returned it.
"You ass," she said to Hancock, picking up her own unopened jet inhaler and playfully throwing it at him.
Her friends. They'd do anything for her. It struck Quinn how attached she'd become to them all in such a short space of time. Ending the reunion brought her no joy, but the more time she wasted, the higher the risk that Virgil would be beyond helping when she reached him.
The cool dusk air was like a soothing balm to her skin as she stepped outside. She stretched and made her way over to the power armour station, waving to Danse in the distance. He nodded and stomped over as she inspected her armour. In all honesty, Quinn had completely forgotten that it had been damaged until she'd mentioned the deathclaw attack to the others, but she couldn't find the hole. Her hands explored the metal, hoping to find what her eyes could not see, and felt a bump in the smooth surface. On closer inspection, Quinn realised the hole had been mended, the welding marks the only sign there had been anything there at all.
"Ready to go, soldier?" Danse asked as he approached. "I took the liberty of acquiring extra provisions and medicine. Should anything happen, we have enough stimpaks, radaway, and rad-x to carry us through an emergency."
"My armour's been repaired," Quinn said, glancing at him. "Do you know who did it?"
"Yes," Danse said.
There was a beat of silence. Quinn raised her eyebrows at him. "Care to elaborate?"
"It was...I did it." His voice was perfectly neutral, and it was impossible to read him with his new helmet on, but he shifted on the spot slightly. "I take it you find the repairs sufficient?"
"Yes, they're perfect. And I'm grateful, but why?" Quinn indicated to his helmet. "You could have worked on your own armour, or told me to get my ass out here instead of gossiping."
"Recreational time is important for morale," Danse replied. "Something you've been lacking as of late. Besides, my helmet is functional. Your armour was not."
Quinn glanced at her power armour and then back to Danse, a small smile spreading across her lips. "I see. Well...thank you."
"Don't mention it."
Her smile lingered as she climbed into her power armour; it was the kind of smile that would cling for hours, if undisturbed by reality. But then the familiar claustrophobic feeling flared up as the steel embraced her, before being replaced by the delicious sensation of power. Quinn didn't mind. She knew the smile would come back later, when she remembered this moment again.
Picking up her weapon, she walked past Danse, slowing down just enough for him to fall into step with her, and together they headed off towards the bridge that led back into the wasteland.
The trip south was relatively uneventful compared to the fiasco that had been their journey to Sanctuary. Days passed without any real incident, the most taxing event being a brief battle with a group of feral ghouls as Quinn and Danse drew closer to the Glowing Sea.
The earth grew cracked and scorched, the steel grey sky decaying into a murky yellow, thick fog and dust choking the atmosphere as it pressed down upon the landscape. Charred trees stuck out of the ground like splintered, blackened bones, and the twisted corpses of cars and buildings lay strewn in every direction, some swallowed almost whole by the oozing lakes of waste.
This is it, Quinn thought as they picked their way quietly through the ruins, making sure to avoid any and every sign of movement. This is the festering wound of Boston. This is where the city died, rotting from the inside out.
Quinn had never approached the Glowing Sea from the north before. There was something about the area that whispered memories to her, but she couldn't place the feeling. Everything had become so warped from the bombs, it was near impossible to tell where about in Boston she even was, never mind what had once stood here.
As they walked down a slope, Quinn spied something in the distance. It was a large, hulking mass, too still to be a creature, too square to be a natural formation. She waved to catch Danse's attention, and the two of them made their way forward to investigate.
It turned out to be a church spire, snapped off at the base, lying wounded on the ground. The tiles had been burnt so badly their original colour was long since gone, but the stonework was still intact. Quinn recognised the beautiful masonry almost instantly. How could she not, when she'd spent months picking out the perfect place?
"Oh my god," she said, reaching out and running her hand over the stone.
"What is it?" Danse asked.
Quinn didn't reply, but glanced around, spotting the remains of a roof, almost completely buried by the wasteland dirt. She ran over to it, locating a large hole in the shingles, and peered inside. A tree had fallen through the other side, the trunk reaching down to the dingy church below.
"Quinn?"
Still ignoring him, Quinn walked back towards the spire, and then activated the release on her armour, wriggling out before it had even fully opened. She picked up her gun and sprinted towards the other opening.
Danse ran after her. "What are you doing? Stop!"
"Just stay there!" Quinn yelled over her shoulder. "I need to check something!"
"Soldier, you risk radiation and physical harm. Get back in your armour now!"
The tone of his voice was so forceful, Quinn nearly buckled under the weight of his authority. She slowed, but then realised Danse was catching up with her. If he had it his way, she would be denied. She had to get inside the church.
Quinn put on a final burst of speed and clambered in, sliding down the tree trunk and out of Danse's reach. "This probably won't hold my weight with the armour," she called up to him. "But I'll only be a minute. I just need to grab something. Stay there."
Tuning out his protests, Quinn made her way down, the wood surprisingly worn and smooth between her hands, the bark long since stripped away. Once or twice she lost her footing, but managed to cling on, dangling over the drop. It was a long way to the bottom, but she couldn't stop. Too much was at stake.
Pulling herself back onto the tree trunk, Quinn carefully made her way across to the stairs, and looked around. It was almost nothing like she remembered, the shape of its husk the only thing that held any connection to her past. Piles of ash and dirt littered the floor so thickly, the stone was no longer visible. At the front of the church were two sets of stairs, one on each wall, framing the main door. They had originally led up to more seating. Up here, and on the ground, burnt church pews law in neat little rows, apparently undisturbed by the church's descent into the earth. At the back was a small stand where Father Jessop had read his sermons, and an old, antique wooden table that had once held candles and other holy items. Quinn was surprised it had survived at all. But that was irrelevant - what lay behind it was more important. Behind it, she would hopefully find her prize.
Quinn had barely moved forward when a terrible roar sounded from outside, so loud and familiar it made her blood run cold.
Oh shit.
There was a brief burst of gunfire, and then a crash as something fell through the ceiling, its fall broken only by the staircase opposite to hers. The thing went straight through them, sending splintered wood everywhere, and a huge dust cloud blew up as it hit the floor, the impact softened by the dirt. It was only when the thing coughed and spluttered, that Quinn realised it was Danse. Before she could open her mouth to call to him, her words died in her throat as two large, clawed hands curled over the edge of the newly formed hole.
The deathclaw stared down at Danse, and in one fluid movement, dragged itself through the roof and leapt down. It skidded as it hit the ground floor, its tail whipping around and taking a chunk out of the old, stone walls. Danse struggled to his feet, clearly dazed, and raised his gun.
"Quinn!" he shouted, not taking his eyes off the creature as it slowly approached him. "It hasn't seen you. Get out of here now. Go!"
The deathclaw made a guttural hissing noise, widening its arms as Danse backed into a corner. It tensed, preparing to strike, when a bullet pinged off the side of its head. With another inhuman sound, it turned, its hollow eyes flitting from side to side, finally fixing on Quinn.
"Leave him alone, you fu-" Quinn began, but cut herself off with a yell as the deathclaw launched itself up the stairs with no warning. She managed to get out of the way, barely, and shrieked as she toppled over the banister, hitting the ashy earth below. The wind was knocked out of her, but Quinn paid it no mind, adrenaline surging through her, her brain screaming for her to move. Her legs obeyed, and Quinn scrambled to her feet as the deathclaw wrestled with the stairs - one of its feet had gone straight through the fragile wood.
"Quinn, behind me, now!" Danse barked.
Quinn obeyed, streaking across the tiny church as Danse moved into the aisle, taking refuge behind him. The enormity of their situation was quickly becoming apparent; both sets of stairs - and the only way out - were now blocked, and she was without her power armour. This deathclaw was smaller than the one they had encountered near the Slog, but still bigger than the one she had fought in Concord; one blow would be enough to kill her.
The deathclaw howled in frustration as both Quinn and Danse opened fire, some of their bullets piercing its thick hide. It wasn't enough. Most of them harmlessly ricocheted away, hitting walls and pews, some of them even bouncing back.
"Christ. Reloading!" Quinn shouted, just as the creature wrenched itself free and tumbled back down the stairs. It righted itself before it had even hit the bottom step, and paused on all fours, sizing the two of them up. The dark, glittering eyes settled on Quinn, and in that second she knew she was going to die.
Danse followed the deathclaw's line of sight, and as it lunged, threw himself in front of it, yelling, "Move, soldier!"
Steel and monster collided, and the paladin was knocked straight off his feet. It would have been the end of Quinn, had the deathclaw not tripped over Danse as it struck out at her. Quinn saw a flash of claws, and a hot, wet sensation spread across the right side of her face as she stumbled back, knocking clumsily into the table. The old piece of furniture buckled, sending her sprawling, and her vision on one side suddenly went black as the wet seeped into her eye. She lay there, dazed for a moment, and then came to her senses, rolling to her feet and jumping back.
The deathclaw, it seemed, had forgotten all about her, now distracted by the large, metal soldier that was fighting it with everything he had. Danse's gun lay forgotten in the aisle where it had been knocked away, and instead he had his combat knife, trying to break through the scaly skin on the deathclaw's arm as it picked him up and began slamming him hard into the walls and floor.
Quinn dove for the rifle, barely registering the comfortable warmth of its metal exterior as she snatched it up and began firing at the deathclaw's head. It ignored her, holding a writhing Danse dangling by the throat as it raised its free hand, until a shot hit it in the eye. There was a shriek of pain, and Danse plummeted to the ground like a stone, almost being trampled by the deathclaw as it shook its head and scraped at the dirt with its claws, its snout close to the floor.
It glanced up, a gooey mess dripping down its face from its eye socket, the other eye blazing, locked onto Quinn. But as it took a step towards her, Danse jumped forward, clamping his arms around the top of its neck and driving the blade of his combat knife deep into the soft flesh of its throat.
Again and again, the knife plunged in, Danse barely holding on as the deathclaw tried to shake him off, gurgling and screeching, its tail smashing from side to side. Quinn rolled out of the way, retreating back as the deathclaw's struggles sent pews soaring in the chaos, before it gave a final, rasping groan as it collapsed on the floor.
Danse paid this no attention, still stabbing frantically at its neck, seemingly unaware that it was dead. Blood and bits of meat flew everywhere as the knife fell back and forth in its frenzied arc, carving its way through flesh and bone without mercy.
"Danse!" Quinn cried, rushing over and edging around until she stood behind him. Taking the arm that was still clutching at the deathclaw, she tried to pull him away, but he wrenched himself free, almost shoving her over as he stood up.
The helmet she had given him was a mess of battered metal. Danse yanked at the emergency release catch and dragged it off, every movement filled with ferocity. His face was pale, bruised, and shining with sweat, and he stood there panting, staring at the ruined piece of headgear, before hurling it away with a strangled yell. It made a loud clang as it hit the boarded up door, bouncing away into a wall.
Quinn scrambled to her feet as Danse rounded on her.
"I can't believe you did this again!"
He was covered in blood, the arm that held the combat knife worst of all. The deathclaw twitched at his feet, red seeping from its neck and being absorbed greedily into the dirt on the floor. Danse paced back and forth next to the body, gesturing so wildly with the knife, Quinn almost took an involuntary step back.
"Danse," she said weakly, alarmed by this sudden burst of rage. "Calm down. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up. I didn't think-"
"But that's precisely the problem!" Danse yelled, and this time she did step away. He no longer looked like the man she knew; he seemed wild and out of control. He turned to her, eyes bulging, face red, and shaking so badly she could see it despite his power armour. "You don't think. You don't care. You don't give a damn what you do, so long as it meets your own needs. You're just like Cutler, running off without a thought about what it does to the people around you. You-you…"
Danse stopped.
There was no other word to describe it. He juddered to a halt as if someone had turned a switch off at the back of his head. When the knife tumbled from his hand with a muffled thud, however, the noise seemed to animate him again. Staggering, he fell against the nearby wall, his arm blindly groping out as he stared past her.
"What's wrong?" Quinn asked, her heart racing. The change in his demeanour was jarring, catching her off-guard. "Are you hurt?"
"...put them out of their misery," he mumbled, answering a question that Quinn couldn't hear. He slowly sunk down to one knee, now leaning his entire body weight into the wall, the metal of his armour leaving deep grooves in the stone as he slid to the floor.
"Danse!" Quinn ran over, but managed to stop herself from shaking him. Giving the church a quick glance around to make sure the fight hadn't attracted more enemies, she moved behind him and twisted the valve on his armour. It cracked open with a hiss, and she pulled at his arm, trying to get him free. Eventually he complied, pushing himself out just far enough so that he toppled out backwards onto her, and then shuffled up against the wall, his eyes glazing over again.
Nothing she did triggered a response. He sat, slumped, his breathing heavy and ragged as incoherent words dripped from his mouth. Sweat poured off his paled skin, the only patches of colour being the dark shadows under his eyes, and as she took hold of his arms, he shook beneath her palms. Wherever he was, it seemed like Quinn would have to fight to bring him back. She ran to his armour, pulling out the radaway and rad-x, and tried to give him some, but Danse seemed completely unaware, the medicine falling away from his mouth no matter how she attempted to administer it.
Quinn quickly swallowed some rad-x herself, and then took a dose of radaway. The radiation in this area was strong, and she'd been without the protection of her armour long enough. But the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy ticked on, the sinister crackle a countdown. Time was running out; there was only so much medicine, and Danse...how long did he have in his condition?
"Danse," Quinn mumbled, her hands gripping tight on his shoulders. "Come on, Danse. Don't do this to me, please. Please."
Danse continued to stare blankly ahead.
A/N: Apologies for the lateness of the chapter. Those of you who follow me on tumblr may have noticed my bouts of anxiety this week, followed by a work night out on Saturday. Both of those interfered with the release of this chapter. Thank you to those who reviewed - your words were a nice pickmeup that kept me going this week.
The Forgotten Church is a real place in the game, and I highly recommend checking it out. I stumbled across it by accident about two months ago and knew I had to include it in the fic somehow.
Deathclaw blood is never really mentioned anywhere, and honestly when I'm killing a deathclaw the last thing I'm thinking of is 'Hmm, what colour is its blood?' while it rips my face off. So, I did a bit of digging. The deathclaw is a mutated Jackson Chameleon, and lizards have red blood due to the way oxygen is carried in the blood. It can be assumed that deathclaws have not lost this very basic building block of their genetic makeup, and so their blood is also red.
Thank you to dragonifyoudare (tumblr) and waiting4morning (FFnet) for their invaluable beta help. Thank you to lumeha and sheallia (tumblr) for their patient work in explaining all the French grammar to me for my title (and answering so many of my stupid questions over every small detail).
Sadly, after all that research and all the billions of questions, my beta said the simple, snappy title that I had first come up with was the one that worked best. But in my heart, the alternative title to this chapter is Danse Macabre de l'Ecorcheur, a tribute to all the hard work lumeha and sheallia did for me. :)
An explanation:
Danse Macabre means 'Dance of Death' in French. Because of the spelling, I found myself wanting to be clever and linking a deathclaw into Danse Macabre, to play on the events of the chapter. Ecorcheur is the French word used in-game for deathclaw in Fallout 4. After much discussion, lumeha gave me this lovely explanation:
So, "Danse Macabre de l'Ecorcheur" would mean "Danse of Death of the Deathclaw". it characterizes the "danse of death" as being a thing directly linked to the Deathclaw.
So. That is where the alternative title comes from!