Through the Looking-Glass

"Is everything okay?" Carson whispered to Quinn as they walked across the empty plains, the dead grass swaying with the faint breeze.

Quinn shrugged, watching as Danse stomped ahead, followed closely by Rachel, who had done nothing but glare at him since they had left the Prydwen. Proctor Ingram had asked her to fetch nukes for Liberty Prime, which lay somewhere in the Glowing Sea. Now they were heading to Waypoint Echo, to meet up with Scribe Haylen, the presence of Rachel and Carson only adding to the awkward atmosphere between herself and Danse.

Both of them had noticed the tension immediately, of course, and reacted accordingly. Quinn wasn't sure how Danse could be so calm. She'd be quaking if Rachel looked at her like that.

"I don't know," Quinn said after a pause. "But it's fine. He'll speak when he's ready."

"I don't get it," Carson murmured, watching Rachel scowl at Danse as the paladin asked her a question. "When I saw you two asleep in the hospital, I thought that was it. Rachel said she had spoken to Danse, and that it was looking good for both of you."

I knew it, Quinn thought, remembering Rachel's hasty retreat when she had returned to the workshop with the scrap for the actuators. No wonder she looks like she wants to kill him.

"Given the amount of issues I've had to work through to get to this point," Quinn replied, checking over her rifle as Danse and Rachel began to bicker in low voices, "I can't begrudge him for wanting to work through his. If he comes to the conclusion that he'd rather keep his distance, well…"

Carson grinned at her. "You won't lie down and take that. Not without challenging him first."

She gave another shrug. Danse had never forced her to change her mind. It would be wrong of her to do it to him. She voiced this to Carson, and he gave a small gesture towards the arguing officers in front.

"In all honesty," he whispered, "I reckon Rachel would do it for you."

The two of them giggled to themselves, just as Danse reached the end of his tether.

"Knight-Sergeant," he snapped. "I have told you I don't wish to discuss this any further. Mention it again and you can walk back to the Prydwen."

Rachel looked livid, but she replied with a cold, "Sir," and then turned on her heel and stomped towards Quinn and Carson, a thousand silent curses dancing behind her blazing eyes.

Keeping quiet was the best tactic, Quinn decided, and she held her tongue as they walked, Danse leading the way, his agitation clear in his every move. Rachel scowled at him, shaking her head every so often and occasionally turning her angry gaze to Quinn, as if trying to decide whether she was at fault as well.

"Please! Please help! I don't want to die!"

The frantic yell cut through the tension in the air, and they all froze, Danse turning back to look at Quinn, before his head jerked in the direction of the same voice.

"Shut your mouth or I swear I'll shut it for you!"

"What the hell…?" he murmured, and then set off in a fast paced jog, his boots thumping into the ground as Quinn and the others followed. As they approached, Quinn was greeted with one of the strangest sights she had ever seen.

A man stood in front of them, armed with a double barrelled shotgun, which was pointed directly at…his twin?

Both hostage and hostage taker were the absolute image of each other. Squinting at the man kneeling on the ground, Quinn tried to work through her muddled thoughts. Didn't twins usually grow out of matching clothes and hair when they stopped being children?

"Please!" gasped the kneeling man. "You've got to help me! This guy's a synth and he's going to kill me and replace me and my family...oh god, my kids…"

Quinn felt a chill sweep through her, but before she could question him, the man with the gun snarled.

"Don't you dare bring them up!" He glanced at Quinn, the gun trembling in his scarred hands. "He's the synth and he wants to replace me!"

"Please, please!" begged the other man, his voice quaking with terror as his eyes flicked from Quinn and back to the barrel pointed in his face. "You've got to believe me! You can't let that thing do this!"

Quinn turned to the three soldiers at her side, but they all seemed lost for words. She rolled her eyes, glad her helmet concealed her annoyance at them. For all the Brotherhood's talk of the synth enemy, apparently none of them knew what to do when faced with the real thing. Steeling herself for the talk that was about to come, Quinn removed her helmet, glancing from one man to the other, and then spoke with a soft, soothing voice to the gunman.

"I'm here to help, but I need to know what happened." She thrust her helmet into Carson's arms and smiled. "What's your name?"

The man blinked at her like she'd grown an extra limb, and then shook his head. "Art. My name's Art. But what does that matter?"

"How did you end up like this, Art?"

"How did I…? Fine, whatever. I was on my way to Bunker Hill. I round a bend and I see this guy. Me. Gun drawn. Ready to fire. After that, it's...it's a blur." Art gestured with the gun, scowling. "We scuffled for a while, but I won. And I'm not going to let this thing hurt my family."

Quinn nodded. "I know you won't. Just step back a lil' bit for me so I can talk with him, okay?"

"Step back?"

"I'm going to talk with him, and I don't want you too close to me with a damn gun pointed my way," Quinn said, her eyes narrowing. "Just in case you are the synth."

"Me?" Art's mouth fell open in shock, but he paled as Rachel Marguerie drew her pistol and aimed it at his head.

"You heard her," she said. "Move."

Art's eyes widened, but he obeyed, stepping back a little, his gun still directed firmly at the man on the ground, while Rachel kept him in her sights.

Quinn turned back to the other man. Deciding the armour was too much, she clambered out of it, ignoring Danse's scowl, and knelt down next to him, smiling.

"Hey," she said, trying to keep her voice calm though her heart hammered in her chest. "I just need you to tell me the truth. Then maybe I can help."

The man licked his lips, his eyes darting from Art and back again, his pasty face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Then he bent forward and said in a low voice, "I saw you at the Institute. You need to help me. This guy knows I'm a synth, so just help me take care of—"

A deafening crack filled the air, and Quinn yelled as the synth's head snapped backwards, his blood spraying all over her face. She turned to see Rachel's pistol pointed directly at the synth. Smoke drifted out of the barrel.

Quinn glanced down at the man, watching the blood run from his head before being devoured by the dirt. She felt numb. He was dead. Rachel had just killed him.

Murdered him?

"Get out of here," Rachel said to Art, reloading her gun and slipping it back into its holster. "Now. Go on."

"I...yeah," Art mumbled, staring at his double lying crumpled on the ground. Quinn looked up at him, her mind blank as he spoke again. "God...that thing was wearing my face. It…"

"It's dead now," Rachel replied. "Your family is safe."

"Thank you," Art said, lowering his shotgun and taking a step away. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'll be damned if I let some machine kill anyone's kids. Now get your ass home."

"I will. I…" Art swallowed. "My face. It had my face. The Institute are...they're monsters. Thank you."

He kept mumbling his thanks as he walked away, leaving Quinn to gaze down at the dead man next to her, his blood drying on her skin. Slowly, she got to her feet, swaying a little on the spot.

"Good work, Knight-Sergeant," she heard Danse say.

The blood was drying on her skin.

Good work.

"What the fuck, Rachel?"

Had she just said that?

Oh yes.

"What the fuck was that?" Her anger crashed down so suddenly that Rachel—Knight-Sergeant goddamn fucking Rachel Marguerie—took a step back.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Quinn yelled, not caring that she sounded near hysterical, not knowing when she had jumped to her feet. "You shot him based on what?" She rounded on Danse. "And you think that's a good job? That's what we do now? Just shoot people dead, no questions asked, no prisoners, no mercy?"

"It said it was from the Institute!" Rachel bellowed back, apparently deciding she wasn't going to just let Quinn walk all over her. "It was going to kill that man and infiltrate that family! Maybe even kill and replace the kids, too! I won't risk that! Those things shouldn't even exist, but what does it matter, huh? It won't ever be your child replaced by them!"

Quinn threw her arm out and cracked Rachel straight across the jaw, pain flaring up in her fingers and knuckles. The knight-sergeant staggered, but before the two men could get between them, she lunged forward. White spots exploded across Quinn's vision as Rachel's fist connected with the force of a sledgehammer, and she fell with a thud.

In the distance she could hear a scuffling noise accompanied by a string of swear words. Quinn raised her head, ignoring the sickening spinning sensation, and blinked blearily ahead. Danse had clamped his hands on Rachel's arms, wearing a furious expression as Rachel tried fruitlessly to tug herself free.

"I'm done," she said, glaring down at Quinn. "I ain't gonna hit her again. One is always enough."

"Let her go, Danse. I deserved it," Quinn said loudly, before letting her head thump back onto the ground. A second later Carson's face appeared over hers, stricken with worry.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Quinn ignored the question. The will to move had left her completely, and she felt her eye throbbing. Her skin puckered where the synth's blood had settled, and Quinn turned to look at his body, lying feet away from her.

She began to cry.

The tears flowed as she sobbed, and she covered her face with the crook of her arm, not wanting to see the people surrounding her. Quinn wasn't entirely sure where it all came from, but she couldn't stop. Maybe because she knew Rachel was right.

It was all so goddamn hopeless.

A strong pair of hands took hold of her, sitting her up and pressing her to their chest. For a split second, Quinn thought it was Danse, but then the acrid smell of stale smoke hit her nose.

"Shh," said Rachel, cradling Quinn and stroking her hair as she wept. "I got you. Let it all out." There was a pause, and then, "You two, go scout ahead or something. Give her some space."

If Danse was annoyed at being ordered around by Rachel, he didn't say it. Instead, Quinn heard him stomp away without question, followed almost immediately by Carson.

Eventually, Quinn quieted down, but she didn't move. In her own strange way, the knight-sergeant reminded Quinn of her mother. Sometimes inexcusably harsh, but also gentle when she needed to be.

Sniffing, Quinn finally sat up properly, and stared at Rachel through her good eye. The other felt sore and swollen, and stung when she tried to touch it.

"Now," said Rachel, smiling despite her bust lip, "tell me what's caused all this."

"My child was replaced by them, Rachel. Maybe not by a synth, but…"

"I know, and I'm sorry," the knight-sergeant replied, and to Quinn's greatest surprise, she looked ashamed. "I know Carson wouldn't have guessed what I was referring to, but I shouldn't have said it all the same. Still, that doesn't answer my question. There was something wrong before that. So tell me what the problem is."

"You killed him," Quinn said, staring down at her hands. "You killed the synth."

"Yeah, I did," replied Rachel. "And I'd do it again."

"But…" Quinn shook her head. "It's not fair. They're raising these synths, giving them human thoughts, and then sending them out to kill or be killed. They can't help what they are, and we...we can't help but kill them. We don't have any choice but to kill them."

"Quinn," Rachel said softly, rubbing her back, "they look human, but they're not human. You have to remember that. They're just imitations of life. They don't think or feel like we do, however much they act like it. You saw that synth just now. It had no qualms about killing Art and endangering his family. A real human wouldn't do that."

"Some humans do. Some raiders would."

"I don't consider raiders to be human either," Rachel said darkly. "And I'd put them down just as quick."

Quinn didn't reply, Nick springing into her mind. What would Rachel think of him?

"The only good synth is a dead synth, as far as I'm concerned," Rachel went on. "They kill people and take over their lives, and for what? Spying?" She shook her head in disgust. "And I swear to God, if they ever replace me, I expect you to show the same lack of mercy to my doppelganger, because I wouldn't show any to yours."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Quinn muttered.

"No." Rachel got to her feet and then offered Quinn a hand. "It's supposed to tell you that if those bastards kill me, then you better avenge me with a gun. Because you can be damn sure I'll do the same."

Rachel Marguerie. Cold. Calculating. Fierce.

Loyal.

Quinn took her hand.

"So when were you gonna tell me about all of this?" Carson said, folding his arms as he glared at Quinn.

The story of Shaun—or at least the version she had given Rachel—had been hard to recount, but bringing Carson into the loop was long overdue. She had never wanted to lie to him. Not giving him the full truth hurt her now, and yet Quinn knew she couldn't risk it. She trusted him with her life, but she wasn't ready to share it all. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Quinn hung her head. "I'm sorry. I just…"

With a sigh, Carson shuffled across the floor and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I know," he said. "I get it. Don't worry about it."

"But—"

"I said don't worry about it." He gave her a slight shake. "You got enough on your plate without me getting all high and mighty about not knowing every little thing about your personal life."

"It's not a little thing," Quinn huffed, laying her head against his shoulder.

"Still none of my damn business. But thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome." Her racing heart began to subside with his acceptance, and she turned and glanced over towards Danse, deep in conversation with Scribe Haylen.

They'd been at Waypoint Echo for just over half an hour, learning what they needed to about the mission, and then collecting supplies while Danse and Haylen caught up. When the conversation between them had moved onto the topic of the police station, Quinn had decided it was time to come clean with Carson. She'd left her power armour and asked him to follow her.

Now they sat together by a burnt tree, while Rachel shot them glances every so often as she ran through a checklist with the knights that had accompanied Haylen.

"Rachel knows," Quinn said, bracing for his indignation. It never came.

"Yeah, I figured that out as soon as you told me," Carson replied with a shrug. "Makes sense why you punched her now. She shouldn't have said what she did. Though I swear to god, Quinn, you're either stupid or have balls of steel. Punching Rachel Marguerie? The grunts will be talking about that for the next year once they catch wind of it."

Quinn laughed. "Judging by the haymaker I got in return, I think I'm just stupid."

"Only the best for my friends," Rachel said, dropping down next to them and lighting up a cigar. She took a deep drag of it and blew a thick cloud of smoke up into the air before saying, "But in all seriousness, we good?"

"We're good." Quinn meant it. "A ladylike punch-up was just what we needed to clear the air, I think."

Both Rachel and Carson snorted loudly, drawing the attention of Paladin Danse.

"Soldiers," he snapped. "What are you doing out of your power armour? We're right on the edge of the most lethal area in the Commonwealth, and you've decided to stop and gossip?"

"Sorry, sir!" Rachel called out as they all jumped to their feet, but when he turned back to Haylen, she muttered, "Look who's talking."

All three of them sniggered amongst themselves, and then set about reequipping their gear. Rachel had opted for a hazmat suit to protect her from the radiation instead of her power armour. She had said that there wasn't enough time to order a new functioning set; Quinn strongly suspected the knight-sergeant simply didn't want to bother with it. Danse had argued against her joining them on the mission, but Rachel had pointed out that if there was trouble, her Stealth Boys would serve her just as well as any armour. That, and she was fully prepared to accept the risks of such a dangerous venture.

"On your own head be it," Danse had said after she had continually argued her case, but he had looked worried all the same. Quinn prayed the trip would be incident-free. She wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with any more guilt on his shoulders.

"I swear to God!" bellowed Rachel Marguerie, slamming her foot into the chest of the nearest ghoul and sending it toppling backwards over the railings, as a siren wailed overhead. "If I see one more—"

A crack sounded as the ghoul hit the bottom of the room, followed almost immediately by a loud screeching noise as another dragged itself out from a hole in the wall.

"Fuck!"

"Stop jinxing it!" Carson yelled back, before shooting the ghoul in the head.

As Quinn had hoped, they had managed to make it all the way to Sentinel Site Prescott, a large military missile research facility buried deep in the wastes of the Glowing Sea, without attracting any unwanted attention. That had quickly changed inside, however; the site was crawling with feral ghouls. Maybe Rachel was the easiest target, but they seemed to be focusing on her.

"To the elevator!" Danse ordered, and the group backed along the walkways, forcing Rachel in the centre, despite her protests. They reached the elevator shaft, and Quinn peered inside and then shook her head.

"Too far a drop without armour," she said. "But we could make a run for the stairs."

"Oh for the love of—move!" Rachel dodged around Danse before he could stop her, and set off in a sprint, her boots slamming down on the metal grating, attracting the attention of every ghoul in the vicinity. They raced after her, and Quinn looked on helplessly as Rachel made her way towards a dead end.

Am I going to watch her be torn apart?

At the last second, Rachel veered right and leaped through a gap in the railings. The knight-sergeant soared across the dizzying drop, and then slammed into the giant support beams that ran down the centre of the room. Within seconds she had scrambled up, and turned just in time to watch the ghouls jump to follow her. What they had in speed, they lacked in precision, and most of them bounced off the metal beams with a series of sickening thuds, before tumbling down into the darkness below.

Two, however, clung on.

"Ah, fuck." She pulled out her pistol and shot one in the head, but as she aimed for the other, it lunged forward, knocking her off her perch.

"Rachel!"

Danse, Carson, Quinn—all three of them had yelled out at the same time. But Rachel paid them no mind. Her hand shot out, grabbing hold of another beam and jerking her to a halt, but the ghoul held onto her other arm, scrabbling at her as they swayed over the deadly drop. It pulled itself up as Rachel tried to kick it off, and then sunk its teeth into her arm.

"A little help here?" Rachel screamed, just as Danse opened fire. The laser hit the ghoul in the face and it let go, plummeting away with a shriek of pain.

"Marguerie!" Danse shouted as the ghoul hit the floor below with a crunch. "You alright?"

"Fine, sir!" she called back, pulling herself onto the beam and then inspecting her arm. "Thanks for the assist!"

"You goddamn idiot!" he bellowed. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Give me some credit, sir! Five ghouls in one!"

Danse turned on his heel and stomped back towards the elevator shaft, muttering to himself as he went. He turned to Carson and Quinn, and she suspected that under his helmet he was scowling.

"I'll drop down first and then give the all clear if it's safe," he said. "Try not to follow Marguerie's example and do something stupid while I'm gone."

"Yes, sir!"

Danse walked past them, still shaking his head, and dropped out of sight. A bang echoed up the shaft, and then he called up to them. "Clear!"

"Ladies first," Carson said. She couldn't see his face, but by his tone she knew he was grinning.

Quinn peered down the shaft and then gulped. Even though she knew dropping from this height was safe, she still felt a spike of fear.

You fell from an aircraft and lived. Stop being so soft and just go.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the empty air. Her stomach lurched as she fell, but it was over in seconds, the broken elevator at the bottom shaking beneath her weight. Sighing with relief, Quinn dropped down through the open emergency hatch, and then walked through into the main area, where Danse was waiting for her.

"Clear!"

Bang.

The siren was louder down here, and Quinn saw a blast door with a terminal next to. Leaving her power armour, she walked over to it and tried to access its functions, but the system blocked her.

"Any luck?" Carson asked as he joined them.

"No," Quinn replied. "Something about the launch sequence sealing the doors. Only way we're gonna…" Her voice trailed off as she spotted another terminal on a desk. "Huh. May have just found our way through."

She strolled over to it and tapped through; aborting the launch sequence was the only option. A few taps of the keyboard later, and the sirens and flashing lights stopped, leaving them in ringing silence. "Well, that was easy enough."

"Don't jinx it!" Carson exclaimed.

"Oh shut up." Quinn clambered back into her armour, but when she turned around, Danse had already rushed back into the main room. He ran over to Rachel, who had just climbed down to the ground floor, removing the globular helmet of her suit with a gasp.

Her arm was a bleeding mess; the ghoul's teeth had sliced straight through the hazmat suit and the uniform underneath. Quinn watched as she pulled off the ruined suit and rolled up the sleeve of her uniform her, wincing. A chunk of her flesh was almost missing, only half attached to the rest of the limb. Up the rest of her arm were laser burns, courtesy of Danse's rifle.

"This is why we don't do such foolish escapades," Danse snapped, checking over her wound.

"I appreciate the concern, sir, but no need to fuss," Rachel replied. "It's just my arm. Would have been more pissed off if it had been my face."

"Yes, because your looks are the only thing going for you these days."

The two of them laughed while Carson and Quinn blinked, dumbstruck, and all at once Quinn felt on the outside of an old friendship. Danse and Rachel paid them no mind, and instead began to bicker over Rachel's injury.

"You're not doing that yourself, Marguerie."

"Just watch me, sir." She paused. "Uh. Can I borrow your first aid kit, please?"

"Carson, Quinn," Danse said. "Keep an eye out for trouble." He moved back and stepped out of his power armour, before walking around to the kit on the side.

"Sir, I already said—"

"And I said no," Danse replied firmly, opening the kit and taking out a needle and thread, some gauze, and a bottle of sterilising fluid. "But if you want to help, you can hold the skin in place while I stitch."

He approached her, placing what he needed on one of the metal beams that Rachel had just clambering from, and then set about cleaning her wound, ignoring her glares. Only when she had to press the chunk of flesh in while Danse sewed the wound shut did her expression change, her already milky skin paling even further still and taking on a tinge of green.

"She's not a fan of needles," Carson whispered to Quinn.

"Shut up, Liam," Rachel snarled.

"But you're not!"

"Why did you want to do it yourself if you don't like needles?" Quinn asked quickly before Rachel could reply.

"She would have tried to patch up the wound with as few stitches as possible," Danse said, his brow furrowed with concentration. "She knows if I do it, it'll be done properly."

"Yeah, you're my knight in shining armour, sir," Rachel muttered, looking like she might be sick. Danse smirked, but didn't reply, finishing off the stitching and checking her arm one last time before standing up.

"Go see Cade when we return to the Prydwen so he can look at the wound himself and give you some antibiotics."

"All this for one bite?"

"You know it could get infected. Maybe next time you'll—" He stopped as a low, guttural noise sounded behind them. They all turned around, and Quinn yelled out in surprise as a huge, bloated ghoul staggered into view.

She had never seen anything like it—charred skin flaked away with every move, revealing pink, oozing flesh underneath, and its eyes were milky orbs in its sunken, sagging face.

Without thinking, Quinn raised her gun and fired.

The lumbering quality of its movement disappeared, and it barrelled towards her with a speed that did not match its size, lashing out and almost knocking her off her feet. As it hit out again, Quinn ducked back, dodging behind Danse's power armour. The ghoul charged straight into it with a clang, and the whole frame toppled over, smashing to the floor.

"The fuck is that?" Rachel yelled, retreating and activating the Stealth Boy on her wrist.

"We'll find out when it's dead!" Danse shouted, but another feral ghoul came shrieking from the shadows and jumped on him, sending him sprawling. He held it at arm's length, dodging its gnashing teeth as more inhuman screams sounded down the corridor.

"Danse!" Quinn threw caution to the wind and fired at the ghoul on top of him. The bullet went straight through its head, and Danse threw it off him and scrambled to his feet.

"You and Carson keep the other ghouls at bay!" she yelled to him. "I'll deal with the big guy!"

The charred ghoul lurched for her again, and she jumped away, its meaty fist just missing her. Even though it was only flesh and bone, it packed a hell of a punch. If it pinned her down the way Danse had been, it wouldn't take long for it to slam its way through her helmet.

Rachel Marguerie appeared from nowhere with a grunt, the blade of her combat knife gleaming in the low lighting as it flashed through the air. It sliced straight through the ghoul's throat, and blood rushed from the gash Rachel had carved in its thick neck. But the ghoul either didn't notice or didn't care; it swung around with frightening speed and delivered a blow so hard that Rachel went flying, her knife skidding away into the darkness.

"Shit!" Quinn raised her rifle, aiming for the ghoul's head, but it tottered on the spot and then fell over backwards with a crash, gurgling for a moment before falling still.

Throwing a quick glance at Rachel to make sure no ghouls were eyeing her up, Quinn sprinted over to Danse and Carson, and helped them make quick work of the few remaining enemies. The paladin panted, glaring down the murky corridor, his eyes scanning the shadows. Finally, he relaxed, but it was short-lived as he spotted Rachel in the corner. She hadn't moved from where she'd fallen, crumpled on the floor.

"Rachel!" Quinn ran over and crouched down next to the knight-sergeant, before giving a sigh of relief as she groaned.

"Fucking hell," Rachel mumbled. "Now I know how you felt before." She sat up, wincing, and rubbed the back of her head. A cut across her left cheek was bruising already where the ghoul's hand had grazed her. Rachel tried to move her head and hissed. "Fuck, my neck!" With difficulty, she forced herself to look up at them. "You alright, Danse? I mean, sir?"

"Yes." Danse looked pale. "And you?"

"Yeah, just a bit sore. Glad it only just caught me, otherwise I might have ended up a lot worse." She patted her pocket and pulled out a slightly bent cigar and a zip lighter, and jammed the smoke into her mouth as she lit it. "Get your power armour sorted, then we can use the light on your helmet to find my damn knife and pistol."

Both Carson and Quinn took the hint and strode over to the armour, lifting it back up into a standing position. Danse inspect it for a few moments, and then climbed back inside.

There was a long pause.

"Sir?" said Rachel from the floor.

Danse gave a heavy, world-weary sigh, and reached up, pulling off his helmet. He turned it over in his hands for a few moments, and then let it drop to the floor with a defeated clunk.

"Not a word," he said to Quinn, glaring, before stomping off down the corridor, kicking away the broken helmet as he went.

Rachel watched him go, puffing away on her cigar, deep in thought. She turned to Quinn.

"Your light still works, right?"

The fight to the control room was a drawn out affair, made more difficult by Rachel's lag in movement. While she still killed with deadly accuracy, there was an odd sway to her step, her eyes occasionally moving out of focus if she turned her head too hard when she stepped to take on an enemy. Not that the others couldn't cover her back, but Quinn began to slowly appreciate how much of a difference Rachel's talents and sheer ballsiness had made to their fighting capabilities.

Finally, they reached their goal, the doors sealed shut with the only obvious way of opening them residing in the cramped control room.

But there was a slight problem.

"Atom has no need of help from non-believers!"

Quinn loomed over the old man, eyeing his ragged robes and bald head with distaste. She had no patience for the Children of Atom at the best of times, and since her day so far had consisted of being punched by a nameless, charred monstrosity that had been trapped at the bottom of a missile facility for over two-hundred years, and Rachel, Quinn's tolerance was at an all-time low.

She wrinkled her nose as he folded his arms and glared at her suspiciously. Even for a wastelander, the man stank, and she wondered what he had been rolling in for his Atom worship to create such a powerful aroma that it made its way through her suit's filtration system.

"This man is obviously delusional," Danse said as the brother finished his spiel about glory and holy relics. He looked equally disgusted by the zealot, and he didn't even have a helmet anymore to block out the worst of the stench. "I recommend we switch tactics."

Quinn glanced at him and between gritted teeth said, "He can obviously hear you, too."

The paladin raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

"Brother!" Quinn said cheerfully, taking off her helmet and then immediately wishing she hadn't.

Good God, he smells like rotting molerats mixed with mirelurk faeces.

She had experienced that exact unfortunate mix when she had thrown a grenade at a mirelurk the first time she had seen one. The resulting blend of blood, innards, and the half-digested mutant rodent it had apparently eaten for dinner which rained down on Quinn had the same distinct scent as the man before her now.

Trying not to gag, she gave the Child of Atom her best law school smile. He frowned at her. She coughed and went on, "I want to spread his, uhh, glory to, uh…" Shit. She probably should have planned ahead better than this. Casting a wary look at the assaultron with the painted words 'ATOM'S WRATH' daubed across its chest, Quinn sighed and dropped the act. "Look, the bombs will get used, okay? Isn't that what you want?"

"Smooth," she heard Carson mutter from somewhere behind her, and made a mental note to kick him later.

The brother considered this. After a moment, he gave her a bright smile of his own.

"Perhaps, then, I have misjudged you," he said, digging a hand into the pocket of his rancid robes. "If you would see these relics used, then Atom's will is done." He pulled out a dirty piece of paper and handed it to her. "Take this and prepare to enter his inner sanctum. Follow the brilliance of the glow, and it shall lead you to the relics. May Atom's radiance warm your soul."

"And, uh, also to you," Quinn replied. The brother beamed at her and inclined his head in her direction, before wandering away to the other side of the room and sitting down on top of his soiled sleeping bag.

"What is it?" asked Danse.

"I think it's the terminal password," Quinn replied, picking up a pencil off the desk and using the blunt end to type in the phrase 'atomglory1' into the keyboard, to save her having to get out of her armour again. "Not the most challenging code, but…"

The terminal beeped, giving her the options screen. Using the pencil, Quinn navigated to the door controls, and there was a loud clunk below them as the locks deactivated.

"Excellent work," Danse said, nodding at her. "Right, let's move out. No idea what we'll find in there…"

"At a guess, I'd say a shitload of nukes," piped up Rachel.

Danse ignored her.

A/N: Usual thanks to my wonderful beta, waiting4morning!

Next chapter may be delayed, as I'm away on the 24th-26th.