Toys and Tribulations

Quinn could feel the apprehension building up inside her as they made their way to the Slog. Months had passed since their journey to the little settlement so long ago, and Danse hadn't made the best impression. Still, he had also helped save their lives. That had to count for something.

But what worried her more than the reception was the package she carried. A holotape, which belonged to a very old, very kind toymaker.

Quinn could feel eyes on her from every point in town. She didn't blame them. For ghouls, Brotherhood meant trouble, and her armour stated her allegiance plainly. Wiseman looked nervous as they approached him.

His expression changed to one of cheer as Quinn removed her helmet, and he walked towards her, smiling. "Hey! Look who it is!"

The other ghouls glanced up, and spotting Quinn, waved enthusiastically at her. She grinned and waved back, and then turned to Wiseman again. However, he was looking past her to the other person in power armour, standing on the outskirts of the settlement, still wearing his helmet.

"Is that Paladin Danse?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "Looks a lil' different since he was last here with you."

"No," Quinn replied, fixing Wiseman with a hard stare. "Paladin Danse was executed about a month ago for betraying the Brotherhood of Steel. That's just a friend of mine from Diamond City."

Wiseman glanced from Quinn to Danse and back again, and then gave Quinn a knowing look. "I think we're on the same page." He raised his voice and said, "Shame, really. That Paladin Danse guy wasn't so bad in my book. Especially when he took the time to help us out."

Quinn watched as Danse flinched and jerked his head in their direction, before quickly looking away again.

"Thank you," she said, glad her trust in Wiseman wasn't unfounded.

"Don't mention it. Can't imagine what happened to cause them to do that to him, but he saved our lives. He's alright, as far as I'm concerned." Wiseman leaned against the wall and produced a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Quinn. When she declined, he shrugged and took one out, lighting it and puffing a cloud of smoke into the air before saying, "So, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Arlen Glass. Is he around?"

"Yeah, in his usual space, when he's not being hounded by—"

"Hello, Quinn," said a familiar wavery voice. "Has life been treating you kind?"

Both Wiseman and Quinn turned around to see Arlen Glass standing at the door of his workshop, smiling.

"As kind as it can be," Quinn said, signalling to Danse and then getting out of her power armour. "Is there somewhere private we can go, please? I have something that belongs to you. Something I found."

Arlen looked puzzled, but nodded, gesturing her to step into his workshop. "Sure."

Quinn glanced over to Danse and beckoned furiously for him to follow, but he stayed where he was. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him, and after a few painful seconds, he strode over, keeping his head down despite wearing his X-01 series helmet.

"Is that...?" Arlen said, staring up at Danse as he approached.

"Mr. Glass," replied Danse, sounding awkward.

"I'd heard of the...unfortunate demise of Paladin Danse through the door of my workshop, Quinn." He smiled at Danse. "But I'm happy that you found a new travelling companion."

Danse hesitated and then nodded.

"Shall we?" Quinn said, and followed Arlen inside, while Danse stood at the door.

"I'll give you guys some privacy," Wiseman called from behind her. "Nice to see you both again!"

As Arlen turned to face her, Quinn stuck her hand inside her pocket and produced the holotape, handing it to him.

"A holotape?" He frowned as he turned it over in his hands, and then walked over to his workshop terminal muttering, "Let's see now…"

There was a clunk and a whir as the tape started, and then he gave a tremulous gasp as the woman on the recording said, "Go ahead…"

Arlen mumbled to himself as the recording played, talking to the echo of the little girl, his shoulders slumped with grief, staring at his terminal. When it was over, there was a long silence, until eventually he glanced at Quinn.

"I...I...give me a minute." Arlen turned away from her, wiping his face with his trembling hands. When he faced her again, his cheeks were wet. He tried to speak a few times, his lips moving wordlessly, before eventually managing to say, "It's been so long...I never thought I'd hear their voices again. You can't imagine what this means to me."

"It's a long story, but...I lost my family, too. My son and my husband." Suddenly there was no one here but her and Arlen Glass. This has become private. Personal.

He gave her a weak smile. "Then maybe you can understand." Arlen gave a small, weary shrug. "She was right, you know? I did work too much. And now...I'll never hear her voice again—never get to hold her, kiss her goodnight—"

His voice broke and he stopped, rubbing at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, shaking his head. "All I have left are the memories." Arlen gestured to the terminal. "And this tape. As one parent to another...thank you."

"What…?" Quinn licked her lips, unsure if she was overstepping her bounds. "What happened to them?"

Arlen didn't speak for a moment. "We had an apartment, in Cambridge. I went to the office that morning, to try to talk to Marc again. When...when it all happened, I tried to get back, but the city was in chaos. By the time I got home...there was only a crater." Arlen look back at the terminal, and this time, he let the tears fall. "I lay down in the ruins. I...I just wanted to die. Instead...I woke up like this."

"And you used your condition to carry on your work," said Danse behind her, making both Quinn and Arlen jump. She had forgotten he was there. His form filled the entire doorway. Danse paused and then said, "Like you told me last time, when I gave you my...when we parted ways. The world could do with more happiness."

Quinn glanced from Danse to Arlen, feeling like she was missing something, and then turned her attention back to the ghoul. "All these years…you never gave up, did you? You're still working too much."

"I suppose so," Arlen replied with another sad shrug. "We made toys. We made children happy." He smiled. "That's all that mattered. And as long as I can still do that, I will. It's the least I can do. For her."

"What now?" Quinn asked.

"I...I can't possibly repay you for this. Here." Arlen emptied his pockets and shoved handfuls of caps into Quinn's hands, despite her protests. "Take...take everything I have. It's not much, but…"

"Arlen, you don't need to—"

"And one more thing. I was saving this for her birthday. All these years, it was all I had to remember her by…" Arlen picked up a Buttercup toy off the shelf and passed it to Danse.

Danse and Quinn looked at each other, but before Quinn could say a word, Arlen leaned over to his terminal and pressed a few buttons. The recording started again, and Arlen Glass was quickly lost in a world of his own.

"Hi, Daddy! When are you coming home?"

Both of them were unusually quiet on the trip back to the bunker. Quinn dumped the caps on the table, not wanting to look at them, let alone touch them, and then went and lay down on the bed, her head a mess. The conversation with Arlen had drudged up long suppressed feelings about Shaun and Nate, and it was all she could do but bury her head in her pillow and cry. She tried to stay quiet, but after a few minutes, Danse sat down next to her and tugged at her arm until she relented and let him hold her. Only then did she weep properly.

When it was all out of her system, she glanced up at Danse and smiled, but he didn't return it, absent-mindedly stroking her cheek with his thumb as he sat there, deep in thought.

"Everything alright?" she asked, sitting up and kissing him on the nose.

"Yes," he replied, but she could tell he wasn't being truthful.

Deciding not to push him this time, Quinn stood up and made dinner while Danse sat on the bed for a while, staring out into the distance, before eventually sloping off to work on his power armour. Quinn frowned. Normally he'd offer to help, or at least stand with her and talk while she cooked, trying to learn.

When dinner was served, he was still quiet, picking at his food and avoiding Quinn's eye, instead looking at his bowl.

"I know I'm not that great of a cook," Quinn said through a mouthful of squirrel—or what she hoped was squirrel—stew. "But you could at least try it."

"I'm…" Danse sighed. "Sorry. I'm just preoccupied at the moment."

"I noticed."

Danse gave a small, mirthless laugh. "I've been thinking about Arlen Glass and Marlene. I...I didn't expect him to care after so many years. That…"

He struggled to continue, and all at once Quinn sensed change in the air. The fact he had suggested they take the tape to Arlen at all had made her hopeful that something was shifting within him. Whether the talk with Nick or the passage of time was the cause, Quinn didn't know. She didn't care either. The result was all that mattered to her. And now it seemed she was about to be proved right.

"For as long as I've remembered, I've treated them...ghouls...differently," Danse forced out. "I never hurt one without good reason, and I disapproved of anyone who did, but…"

Danse set down his spoon, staring at his bowl of uneaten food, his discomfort rolling off him in waves.

"I've had the sudden, horrible feeling that my behaviour over the years has been completely unjustified. That I've been...wrong. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Y'know," Quinn said, standing up and moving around the table, placing a hand on Danse's back, a warm feeling in her chest. "When I first saw a super mutant up close, I froze, and one of my friends was badly hurt. Speared right in the middle with a sharpened car bumper. I blamed myself, but then someone else took me to one side and told me, 'Don't dwell on it. Just do better next time. For yourself and for them.'"

Danse frowned and then said, "Are you talking about—?"

"Yes, silly," Quinn replied, grinning. "I'm talking about you. Fort Strong? We were sat in the sickbay with Carson afterwards."

"I don't remember that conversation."

"But I do. And I've never forgotten it, because you were right." She sat on the table and took his hand in her own. "Sure, you've been an ass to ghouls in the past, but moping about it won't solve anything. You know different now. Learn from it. And do better."

A series of emotions flickered across his face. Dismay. Defiance. Determination.

"I will." He frowned. "It'll be a long road to unpick everything I thought I knew...to turn from what I was taught. By wastelanders and by the Brotherhood. But I will do it. I will be better."

Quinn believed him.

One...two...three...four…

Slipping away from Quinn's embrace had been difficult that morning, but it had to be done. He had been lazy for far too long.

Forty-three...forty-four…

Over the weeks since the Slog, things had gone from strange and new to sweet and familiar. Danse had settled into life with her so quickly, he was staggered that he'd known anything different. And there was the occasional awkward moment. Not that he was a newcomer to relationships or intimacy, but this was…

One hundred and twenty-six...one hundred and twenty-seven…

Well. Like nothing he had ever experienced before. When all the kisses were said and done, and all that remained was them, they'd still found things to talk about. To laugh over. To explore together. And while Danse was not a particularly affectionate person, he could lay for hours with Quinn, content in her company.

Two hundred and seventy-eight...two hundred and seventy-nine…

And there had been...other feelings.

Danse felt his cheeks burn, and he paused, sweat dripping down his forehead. Where was he up to now? Three hundred? His arms began to ache in earnest as he struggled to remember, and he shook his head, before taking his best guess.

Two hundred and fifty...two hundred and fifty-one…

As he lowered himself into another pushup, his thoughts drifted back to that topic. Yes, he'd been thinking about it for a while now. Not deliberately, but she was just so damn…

Quinn mumbled from the bed next to him and turned over in her sleep. Danse paused, watching her with a smile, and then remembered himself.

Where was…?

Two hundred and fifty...two hundred and fifty-one…

He kept trying to tell himself that it was nothing he hadn't done before, that it was bound to happen eventually, that it would be the same as any other time he'd slept with someone. But had any of them meant as much to him as Quinn? And it had been a while, after all. What if it went wrong? What if she didn't enjoy it? What if…

What if all those past experiences weren't real?

The sick feeling returned to his stomach. And there was the biggest problem of all. No matter what he thought or what he felt, it always came back to the same things: worry, paranoia, confusion.

Danse stopped, realising he had lost count again.

"God damn it!"

"Mm?"

Danse glanced up to see Quinn looking at him through bleary eyes. She blinked a few times and then grinned, propping herself up to get a better view of him.

"Don't stop on my account, handsome."

Danse flushed again, feeling on the spot—this was precisely why he'd gotten up before her—but he complied with her request. With her eyes on him, he finally decided to abandon counting altogether. Her presence was far too distracting for that.

After a minute of silent watching, though, Quinn stood up, and Danse wondered if she was bored. He would be, watching someone else exercise. Maybe he'd stop now, pick this up later...after all, she could be returning to the Prydwen any day. Every second with her was precious.

Instead, Quinn laid down on the floor, scooting herself directly underneath him.

"I can't effectively train if you're blocking my movements, Quinn," he said, frowning a little.

Her grin widened. "Try a pushup. For me."

Now he was extremely confused. At best, she'd get in the way. At worst, he might headbutt her nose. Still, he knew that mischievous smile, and part of him wondered what she was up to. Slowly, he lowered himself down, his curiosity guiding him.

Quinn tilted her head up and kissed him.

Danse drew away, surprised, and she giggled, shifting a little on the floor. He blinked, and then a smile grew on his own face as he descended again.

When their lips met, he held himself there, ignoring his protesting muscles as Quinn draped her arms around his neck, raising her hips slightly to meet his. Rising up, he became aware that she had drawn her knees up, her legs either side of him. Something panicked within him, but he disregarded it as he did a third pushup, his mind starting to cloud over with other thoughts.

This time, Danse went as far as he could go, his arms straining with fatigue, his body so temptingly close to hers, hovering above her. She went to kiss him and he moved back slightly, teasing her.

Was it just teasing? The urge to pull away completely was nestled there, fear tugging at him as he forced himself to focus on Quinn. His lips brushed against hers while she made every effort to pull him closer. Despite his conflict, he was getting excited as her frustration became increasingly obvious.

She hooked her legs around him, trying everything from gentle touches with her fingers to the softest of bites on his neck, the way she knew he liked it. Danse shivered, his body reacting to her own teasing, but determined not to give in, even when he heard himself groan as her teeth nipped his skin.

Only when Quinn mumbled, "Please," did he break. Impulse took over, and he dropped himself onto his forearms, pressing against her as they kissed, her hands clutching at his hair as his lips explored her mouth, her neck, her collarbone...

All of a sudden, he felt her hand slip down, resting on his crotch. A breathy noise escaped before he could stop himself, and a smirk spread over her face.

"Feel good?" she asked, softly kissing his cheeks.

Danse nodded, but when he tried to speak, his words caught in his throat as she began to move her fingers together in a gentle circle, with just enough pressure that he could feel her through his pants. He bowed his head, caught off guard.

God, he wanted her. Right here, right now. But the seed of anxiety in his chest was growing. Quinn was there and she was so beautiful, and he was feeling…

Feeling...

"Danse?"

Danse blinked, and it took a few seconds to realise Quinn had stopped, cupping his face as she struggled to sit up.

His heart started to race. Had he ruined the moment? Perhaps he could still fix this if he—

He tried to kiss her again, but Quinn put her hand in front of his mouth, shaking her head. The game was up. He rolled off her, propping himself against the bed, anger starting to creep into him as his chest heaved with panic. All he wanted was a normal relationship. Was that too much to ask?

Quinn sat in front of him, her hands clamped on her lap as she considered him. "What's wrong?"

Danse almost didn't answer. Personal things were already difficult to talk about, but…

He rubbed his forehead, hating the burning sensation in his cheeks, but Quinn waited patiently, and he knew he had to tell her.

"I just...I want to. But I...I can't." Danse stared at the floor. "There's...too much in my head."

Quinn reached out to him, and then hesitated, watching him carefully. Only when he gave her a weak smile did she touch his hand. "Okay."

"Okay?" Danse frowned.

"Okay."

"I don't understand."

"What's to understand?" She gave his fingers a little squeeze. "You're not ready. That's all there is to it."

"But I should be able to—"

"If it was the other way around," Quinn interrupted, fixing him with a stern look, "would you want to carry on?"

"No!" said Danse at once, horrified by the very thought.

"There you are, then." Her face relaxed. "It's no different when it's you."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Danse mulling over this, until he noticed Quinn hadn't moved from her spot, deliberately keeping her distance. Once again, those three words were on his tongue, as they had been for many weeks now, but Danse held it back. His mind had taken enough of a beating for one day. Instead, he tugged her towards him and held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"You're too good to me," he mumbled into her hair.

"I disagree," Quinn replied, turning to face him and stroking his cheek.

"You always disagree with me."

"Keeps you on your toes, though."

Danse laughed, squeezing her slightly, and she grinned back.

Leaving Danse behind again felt harder than the first time. Quinn wasn't sure why. He'd improved dramatically since then. Maybe it was because he'd be alone. Or maybe it was because she'd gotten so used to sleeping at his side. But when Haylen had sent an encrypted message through to Danse, telling him that Maxson had sent out orders for Quinn to return to the Prydwen, she knew she'd have to obey them.

But despite this, she was finding it very difficult to let him go. And for once, Danse wasn't arguing with her to leave, either.

They stood holding each other tight inside the elevator. Quinn tried to take in every detail: the warmth of his skin, the smell of him, the way he played with her hair as he pressed his mouth to the top of her head.

But then the dread ping arrived, and after a few seconds, Quinn forced herself away. As she tried to leave, however, he took hold of her arm and dragged her back into a fierce kiss. For a second, Quinn was ready to abandon her return altogether.

"Stay safe," he said, touching her cheek. "I lo…" He paused, and then tried again. "If I lost you...I don't know what I'd do."

Quinn nodded, her eyes stinging. "Keep hidden. I'll be back soon. I promise."

The elevator doors slid shut as they kissed, throwing them in darkness, and she wanted nothing more than to remain. But then the moment passed, and she hit the button to open them again, striding off without a backwards glance. One hesitation would be all it took for her to go running to him, and then they'd have to pry themselves apart a second time. This way was quick and clean.

Quick and clean.

Tears streamed down Quinn's cheeks as she walked across the wasteland alone, her rifle tight in her trembling fists. She'd be going straight back after she paid her obligatory visit to the Prydwen. Why did this hurt so much?

Maybe it was because Deacon's words were ringing in her head.

"...by the time they do something you find bad, it might be too late to leave."

It was too late. But not in the way Deacon had predicted. She couldn't leave the Prydwen behind now, abandon Carson and Rachel and all the others. Her team. Her friends.

Her eyes had dried by the time she reached the ship, though the pain in her heart still stung. Already she was wondering if Danse was alright, if he was safe on his own, if he'd be lonely, if there was anything else she could have done for him before she'd left…

He's not a child, Quinn thought irritably to herself as she clambered aboard a vertibird, and then clutched her stomach as it shot up into the sky. Stop treating him like he can't look after himself.

But it had been the same with Nate, at his worst. Constant mothering and anxiety, trying to make sure he was alright. At first, Nate had been annoyed by it, even offended, but eventually had realised she wasn't doing it because he wasn't capable.

"It's because you care," said Nate, kissing her forehead. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

There was a jolt as the vertibird boarded, and Quinn stood up, feeling slightly sick. Staggering off the aircraft, she walked across the deck and inside. Her feet clanged on the metal walkways, and Quinn frowned, glancing around as her footsteps echoed.

Quinn strolled through the halls, looking for Carson. Without Danse, she felt as hollow as the ship. Even though her pining would pass, a talk with her friend over a box of Sugar Bombs wouldn't go amiss. However, he was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, neither was anyone else.

The Prydwen was strangely empty, its patrols nearly all gone, the mess hall barren, and the bunks deserted.

Where the hell is everyone?

As Quinn marched back across towards her room, she spied Josh, standing to attention, guarding the lonely corridor. His eyes flicked towards her, and he straightened up, quickly looking away.

"Ma'am," he said as she approached.

"Relax, Josh. I won't tell your mom."

His whole body crumpled into a state of ease, and he grinned at her. "Hey, Quinn."

"Where is everyone?" Quinn gestured vaguely around her.

The boy frowned. "I don't know. Mom and Dad went out a few hours ago and said I had to stay with Auntie Michelle tonight. They looked...I don't know." Josh scuffed his shoes on the floor. "They've never had to go out at the same time before."

The worry in his face was clear to see, even if he didn't know how to express it. He chewed his lip and twisted his hands together, staring at his feet. Quinn crouched down and smiled.

"They'll be back soon, I'm sure." She gave his shoulder a little shake. "In the meantime, you look after Michelle, alright? I'm sure she could do with your help when she starts flapping over test papers."

Josh giggled and nodded, and Quinn stood up, leaving him to his duties. But as she moved out of his sight, the smile slipped from her face. Both his parents had been sent out? That, coupled with the sudden absence of nearly everyone on the ship, had her concerned.

Something big was happening.

She decided to head down to the sickbay, where at least one of three people were guaranteed to be. In fact, there were two of them. Kapraski and Cade glanced up, wearing matching expressions of confusion as she entered the room.

"Ma'am?" said Cade, setting down a handful of med-x on his desk. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I only just got back. Why wouldn't I be here?"

The two men exchanged glances, and Kapraski's face paled.

"I thought Liam would be with you," he whispered, struggling to sit up as his eyes widened with fear. "I thought he'd be safe. I thought you were looking after him!"

"Tom, lie back down," Cade said sharply, and when Kapraski ignored him, he strode across to the gurney and forced the lancer to obey. Cade turned to Quinn, holding a struggling Kapraski down effortlessly with one hand. "You should go see Elder Maxson, ma'am. I think he has work for you."

The look Cade was giving her said it all.

Go. Go now.

Quinn did as she was told. She ran through the Prydwen, her heart racing as she threw herself at the ladders, hauling herself up them. Her hands slipped with sweat, her feet missing rungs with haste, but eventually she pulled herself to the top.

"Sir!" she called from down the hallway.

Elder Maxson turned from his window, a look of relief gracing his features, before being replaced by irritation.

"There you are," he snapped, standing still and letting her approach him. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again."

"Sir," Quinn repeatedly breathlessly. "Where is everyone? Are we in trouble? What can I do to help?"

Unlike his earlier relief, Maxson's surprise was blatantly obvious. Did he really think she was completely devoid of loyalty to any part of the Brotherhood? Her friends' lives could be at stake, and they mattered more to her than words could describe.

"I commend your enthusiasm," Maxson said after an awkward pause. "I had thought it beyond you at this point, given the past...difficulties you've faced with us."

Quinn waited, tense, wanting him to get to the damn issue already. Maxson must have sensed her impatience, because he cleared his throat and went on.

"While the finishing touches are being put onto Liberty Prime, Captain Kells has identified a potential threat to our operations." He pointed down the hall to Kells' office. "Report to him immediately for your next assignment. Ad victoriam, Paladin."

Quinn saluted him and went on her way, more vexed than ever. Couldn't he have just told her there and then what was happening?

Potential threat to our operations…

What the hell did that mean?

A/N: Thanks to my amazing beta, waiting4morning, for her wonderful work! And thanks for all the reviews!

I forgot I was in Austria until Sunday. So have another early chapter. Hopefully I'll be back to my normal schedule next week. :P