#the replay value already...... yeah she's untouchable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quinzelade · 7 years

Text

By No Constraint (chpt 60)

SS x Danse

Chapter List

Thanks to my amazing beta, waiting4morning, for her wonderful work! Thanks to Musashi1596 for the title.

Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.

Want update alerts? Follow this story on FFnet or Ao3.

Old Friend

The nights were cold without Danse. Colder still when he was only a few houses down the street, and yet completely unapproachable. They hadn’t spoken all the way to Sanctuary, both holding themselves back to stop something slipping out that they might regret.

When they’d arrived, he’d marched off to the house he’d slept in last time—for whatever reason, the settlers had left it untouched. But at least he’d stayed. Quinn had half expected him to turn around and walk straight back to the bunker again.

Life went on as normal for the next few days. She helped organise patrols and farming, traders and resources, all the while keeping Shaun glued to her side. Preston had expected her to help run Sanctuary when she’d first brought them here, and Quinn had fled as far as the Prydwen to escape the responsibility. Now here she was, trying to scrape together an existence in the hollow remains of her former life. Maybe it wasn’t so normal after all.

Danse did his part too, though he always found an excuse for it to be as far away from Quinn as possible. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care, that he’d come around eventually. As the days went on, though, the hope started to slip away.

Quinn trailed back to her old house, depositing herself on the sofa as she became lost in thought. It had been her routine for the last few nights now, while Shaun got ready for bed.

Shaun...

Had she really done the right thing in saving him?

At the time, it had felt right, but now when Quinn tried to replay the moment, it passed by in a blur. She couldn’t remember, couldn’t think. All that came to mind was a dead son and a second chance. That didn’t help ease the fear of what had happened...and what was to come. The very thought of telling Shaun he was a synth terrified her, and yet…

“Quinn?”

Quinn glanced up, and for one stupid second, dared to hope it was Danse. Of course it wasn’t. She had known before she’d even looked.

“Hey, Nick.” She smiled and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the sofa. “Pull up a seat.”

Nick didn’t return the smile and ignored her offer as he walked into the centre of the room, staring down at her. “I’ve been looking for you for a while now. Should have occurred to me you’d be with those Brotherhood schmucks.”

Quinn felt her grin slip away, replaced by something heavy and tired. Of course he’d heard about the Railroad. She laid her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, preparing herself for the grilling of a lifetime.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

Nick pulled a cigarette pack from his coat pocket and lit one before speaking. “I said let’s go for a walk. Fresh air will do us both good, and I don’t like standing over you as if I’m about to give you an earful.”

“You’re not?”

“Well…” He shrugged. “Depends on how the conversation goes, really.”

Depends on what you did.

Quinn sighed and got to her feet. “Sure. But I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Oh?”

“Shaun!” Quinn called, and as a confused look flickered across Nick’s face, Shaun ambled into the room.

“Yeah?” He noticed Nick and his jaw dropped. “Oh wow! It doesn’t look anything like the ones from the Institute!” Before Quinn could tell him off, Shaun ran over, plucking at Nick’s coat. “Mom, it’s the guy from the comic books you gave me! The Silver Shroud!”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Oh brother…”

“Shaun!” Quinn snapped, and Shaun jumped like he’d been burned. “This is Nick Valentine, and he isn’t an ‘it.’ He’s a person, just like you and me. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all, y’hear?”

“Yes, Mom.” Shaun turned to Nick, his cheeks red, hanging his head. “Sorry, Mr. Valentine.”

“S’alright, kid.” Nick looked as if he was going to say something else, but one warning glare from Quinn kept him quiet. “We’re just going for a walk, and your mom wants you to come along for the ride.”

“Shoes on, double time,” Quinn said, and Shaun nodded before running off to his room.

“You can explain later,” Nick muttered, just before Shaun came back.

Quinn didn’t get the opportunity for a good twenty minutes. Shaun barraged Nick with questions as they walked to the Red Rocket. Dogmeat bounded out as they drew near, and Shaun screamed, tripping over his own feet as he tried to duck behind Quinn. Then Shaun spluttered as Dogmeat began licking his face and ears, his tail banging against Nick’s legs.

“Oh, mum, is this...could it be?” Codsworth was floating at the door of the truck stop, sounding on the verge of tears. “Has Master Shaun returned to us at last?”

Quinn nodded, her throat dry. Was there any point in telling Codsworth the truth? She’d never even mentioned the original Shaun had lived his entire life by the time she’d found him. But he was awaiting a response, so she smiled and said, “Brought him home.”

“Are you alright, sir?” Codsworth said as Shaun gingerly got to his feet and scurried away from Dogmeat, who was now trying to jump up to carry on licking him. “It’s so good to see you again!” He floated over and twitched his arms in the direction of Dogmeat. “Shoo! Shoo! You’re scaring the poor child, silly dog!”

“Alright, boy, calm down,” Nick said, grabbing Dogmeat by the collar and hauling him away. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, kid. He just likes you. Pet his head and see for yourself.”

Shaun looked as if he didn’t believe a word Nick was saying, but he edged forward anyway and carefully placed his hand on Dogmeat’s head. At once, Dogmeat went wild, wagging his tail and bouncing on the spot, held in place only by Nick’s efforts. Shaun pulled away, but when Dogmeat stopped and patiently waited, Shaun put his hand out again, and giggled as Dogmeat began licking his fingers enthusiastically.

Quinn went inside the truck stop and opened the shutters, before picking up a ball and throwing it to Shaun. “Here. He likes playing with that. But stay at the front where I can see you or you’re in big trouble.”

Shaun caught it and jumped as Dogmeat broke free from Nick, knocking him over and licking his face all over again. Then he stole the ball and jumped back, waiting with a wagging tail for Shaun to pursue him. After a glance at his mother, Shaun obliged.

Nick walked over and pulled up a chair as Quinn settled herself on the bed.

“Codsworth, could you just hang around outside and make sure Shaun doesn’t try to sneak off, please?” She smiled. “I need to talk to Nick.”

“At once, mum!” Codsworth floated off towards the laughing boy now wrestling fruitlessly with Dogmeat for his ball.

“So,” Nick said, crossing his legs as he lit another cigarette. “What’s the deal with the kid?”

His tone was completely different from when they had been in Sanctuary. Quinn didn’t trust this complacency, and warily explained what happened with Shaun, dreading the moment Nick would bring up the bigger topic. He nodded as he puffed away on his smoke, listening with a grave expression. By the time Quinn finished, he was lighting a second.

“Seems like the right thing to me,” Nick said with a shrug. “What was the alternative? Leaving him to die? No sane person would do that.”

“Yeah…” Quinn thought of Danse and the accusations he had thrown at her. Accusations that felt uncomfortably close to the truth. “In all honesty, I still feel unsure about everything. I don’t want him to be a replacement, but...he’s an exact replica of my son. I just…”

“The way I see it, this Shaun is a twin.” Nick turned to look at her. “You’ll give him different values, different memories...a different upbringing. Same genes but not the same person. So stop seeing him as what he is, and what he will be instead.”

“Maybe,” she replied, watching Shaun with a small smile as Dogmeat ran circles around him. “Maybe.”

“Well, that’s beside the point now. I’m just glad you gave him a chance.”

A pause. Quinn knew the question was coming.

Nick heaved a deep sigh. “You know why I’m here, so let’s not dance around the subject anymore. Deacon. The Railroad. All I can think is: why? Honestly? How much of a threat could a dozen or so people in a church pose to the mighty Brotherhood?”

“Deacon and his friends had plans in place to destroy the Prydwen if the Brotherhood became a problem,” Quinn said dully. She had relived this story far too many times in her dreams, and she was so tired of it. “The Brotherhood found out and decided to attack first.”

Nick’s brow furrowed. “You’re talking like you knew about this beforehand.”

“I did. And I helped.”

His mouth dropped open, letting his cigarette fall into his lap. It was a good five seconds before he noticed, cursing and batting at his singed coat, before shooting her a murderous glare.

“You helped?” He wasn’t just angry. Nick’s disappointment cut like razor blades. He sat up straight in his chair, leaning away from her. “I suspected you caught on too late to stop it, but helped?”

“There were kids on the ship,” Quinn said hurriedly. Nick’s anger on top of Danse’s was too much to endure. “I couldn’t—”

“You could,” Nick interrupted, his eyes blazing. “You know damn well you could!”

“How?”

“You could have warned them, for starters!” Nick said, slamming his hand down on the armrest of his chair.

“The Brotherhood were already there!”

“Helped them evacuate then! Misdirected your troops! Done something different! Anything different!”

“You weren’t there!” Quinn snapped, rising to her feet. “Us or them! Kids or Railroad! And I’m sick of going over this shit as if there was any other way!”

“Us or them?” Nick shook his head. “Is that what it is now? I trusted you to know when to get out of that organisation, and this is what I’m left with?”

Quinn was rooted to the spot. She’d never argued with Nick past minor squabbling—it was making her feel faint with panic. He was the closest thing she had to family in this shithole of a world, and Quinn could sense him slipping through her fingers.

Nick seemed equally disturbed. He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before. “Only madmen could justify trying to wipe out an entire people just because they were made, not born, and yet you’ve fallen into line with Maxson despite what happened at that church. Despite what they did to Danse.”

“I stayed to deal with the Institute! That was it!” Quinn hissed. Mentioning Danse had struck a nerve. “What else could I do?”

“Join one of the other groups that would have got the job done!” Nick shot back, his scowl worthy of Maxson himself. “The Minutemen! You could have even gone with the Railroad if they hadn’t been conveniently wiped out! Don’t you realise what you’ve done?”

“Nick, I—”

“Deacon and his gang protected synths from everyone that would do us harm. The Railroad were all we had left, and now you’ve taken them away.” Nick closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, they were filled with a mixture of dread and resignation. “Maybe you didn’t think it through. Maybe you meant the best. But that damn robot you helped the Brotherhood build places them at the top of the food chain, and they still have their eye on ghouls and synths. I can’t help but feel like you’ve traded one monster for another, and I’m not alone. Hancock and MacCready...”

Quinn hung her head. She had no energy left for this fight. She diverted her attention to Shaun and saw that both he and Codsworth had stopped dead, transfixed by her argument with Nick.

Nick himself studied her for a second, repeatedly flicking his lighter on and letting it snuff out again. He’d said his piece. So had she.

“I think we’re done here,” Quinn said in a low voice, still not looking at him.

“Yeah,” Nick replied sombrely. “I think we are.”

He left without another word. Quinn couldn’t bring herself to watch him go, but waited until his footsteps had died away completely before raising her head. Shaun and Codsworth were still gawking at her.

“What are you looking at, Codsworth?” she snapped, feeling a twinge of guilt as Shaun flinched too.

“I—um—I just—sorry, mum—”

“Never mind. Lock the place up for the night and look after Dogmeat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Stay here?” Codsworth said, sounding upset. “Alone, again? But I’ve waited so long to see you both—”

“No. I’ve dealt with enough robots for one day.” Quinn stormed off, a sharp gesture of the hand towards Shaun signalling him to follow.

She was being a bitch and she knew it, but it felt good to lash out, even if it was at the wrong person.

As Quinn marched back to the settlement, though, her anger quickly drained away. There was no ‘wrong person’ to be mad at, because there was no ‘right person’ either. Nick had been completely justified in everything he had said. And she had been justified to defend it. Right and wrong didn’t exist in this situation—only a shitty choice with heavy consequences at every turn.

Quinn knew she would never get Nick’s good opinion back. She would be damned lucky if he ever spoke to her again. Not that she blamed him.

Shaun got ready for bed without being asked when they got home. Quinn stayed in the living room firmly planted in the armchair she’d stolen from Mrs. Bossanova’s old house—a grand thing that only wobbled slightly when she sat on it. The whole setup made her think of her father when Quinn had stayed at his over the weekends. All she needed was a can of beer to complete the transformation—a ruined life of her own making, muddied further still by booze.

Quinn got to her feet and paced about the room, wringing her hands. It was a cold night, but she always made sure Shaun took all the blankets to sleep with. This time, he didn’t argue, avoiding her eye as he slipped beneath the warm layers. What she would do to stave off the chill herself, Quinn didn’t know. She didn’t really care either.

Perhaps it was no coincidence, though, that she kept walking by the cupboard where Teagan’s whisky was stashed. She opened the door and stared at the bottle, licking her lips. Quinn quickly shut it again and heaved a sigh, resuming her pacing.

No. I’m better than that. I have to be better than that.

Still, her rounds of the room returned her time and time again to the dingy little cupboard, fingers trailing on the decaying wood. The fifth time, Quinn hesitated, tapping her nails on the handle.

“Quinn?”

A sharp intake of breath. She knew it was Danse before she turned around. He was standing in the front entrance, his expression hidden by shadow, though nothing could conceal the tenseness of his body.

Quinn bit her lip. She’d given him his space, hoping it would nurse his pride. Now here he was, sooner than she thought, firmly keeping himself distant in the doorway.

“You’re obviously not comfortable,” she said when he didn’t move. “What do you want?”

Danse ran a hand through his hair and finally stepped forward, the dim light of the candles she had scattered on the shelves highlighting his face. He looked as bad as she felt, tired, worn, and clearly not sleeping.

Quinn could relate. She’d spent the last few nights tossing and turning, missing Danse at her side. Thinking things over in her head. Wishing she had the strength to do what he wanted, knowing she couldn’t. Shaun was an innocent—possibly one of the last untainted things in the wasteland. She didn’t want to be the one to snatch this from him.

“I came to see if you’d changed your mind,” Danse said in a low voice. “I’ve had time to run it all through my head, and…” He shifted on the spot. “I can’t stand by and help—” Danse twitched his head in the direction of Shaun’s room, “—live a lie.”

“I haven’t changed my mind.” Hadn’t she? Quinn didn’t know. But it was easier to say than the chaos in her head.

This apparently wasn’t the answer Danse expected to hear. His features crushed into a scowl. “I thought better of you. Thought you just needed time to come to your senses.”

“Please don’t,” Quinn said softly. “I’ve just had it out with Nick. Don’t add to it.”

Danse shook his head. “Enough, Quinn. You are using that boy like a plaything. You need to—”

“Plaything?” Quinn saw red. “I’m his mother and I know what’s best for him! If you don’t like it, you can fuck off.”

There was a long, heavy silence. Danse’s face suggested she had crossed a point of no return. Good. He had just crossed a line with her.

“Fine.”

He was out of the house and stalking off down the street before Quinn could stop him. After a few seconds, Quinn moved towards the open front door and watched him get as far as the bridge leading out of Sanctuary before he melted away into the darkness. She thought she’d be more upset than this. Instead she just felt hollow.

A shuffling noise behind her made her jump, and Quinn saw Shaun had come out of his room, holding his blankets around himself like armour.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just…” He pulled the sheets tighter. “What did Mr. Danse mean? Why am I a plaything?”

Quinn felt on the verge of throwing up. “Nothing. He meant nothing. Just talking about stuff he doesn’t understand, that’s all.”

“Mom…” He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “You don’t need to lie to me. I’m ten years old. You can tell me.”

“I’m not lying,” Quinn said firmly, fighting back the nausea. “Danse and I just fight over silly things sometimes.”

Shaun wriggled under his blankets. “I don’t really like it when you fight with people.” He paused and then visibly shrank away from her. “Never mind. ‘Night, Mom.”

“‘Night,” Quinn echoed as Shaun ambled back to his room. She couldn’t feel the cold anymore, her entire body numb. She wandered over to the sofa in a daze and dropped onto it, her parents’ shouts reverberating around her head.

“You shouldn’t have told her! She’s a teenager, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before fucking that woman at work! Or do you only give a shit about Quinn so long as she doesn’t know what a scumbag you are?”

The smash of glasses. The slam of doors. Quinn’s head buried beneath a pillow as she heard her father’s feet walking down their garden path for the last time.

She was putting Shaun through the same thing. Couldn’t she do anything right?

No, she couldn’t. She’d allowed Deacon and the Railroad to die, and then stayed at Maxson’s heels to murder her own son. Taken on Shaun’s replacement and kept him locked away, shouting at him if anything went wrong.

Nick hated her. Maybe the rest of her friends too. And Danse...gone.

Her willpower snapped.

Quinn staggered over to the cupboard, wrenching it open so hard she nearly pulled the door off its rusting hinges. The bottle of whisky waited for her, gleaming in the low light. She started to cry as she took it out, cold and comforting in her hands. No one to help her. No one by her side. A distant boy and bittersweet alcohol her remaining companions. It would warm her the way only spirits could, letting her lie with the dead and make her think they were real.

Somehow, Quinn made it to the sofa again, cracking open the lid and letting the smell burn her nose before she took her first gulp.

The liquor hit her empty stomach, seeping through her and cradling her in the night. Time had eroded her tolerance, and she only made it a third of the way through before she knew she could go no more. Quinn pushed herself to the halfway mark anyway, for good measure. With clumsy hands, she managed to get the lid back on, and then put the bottle on the floor with a clunk. It rolled away, only stopping when it hit the wall.

The sofa suddenly felt much more comfortable than before, and even the stench of rotten fabric and damp seemed far away. Quinn brought her knees to her chest and sobbed into them, the swirl of whisky drowning her until she finally slipped away.

Danse couldn’t stay angry for long. Not when Dogmeat was licking his face so enthusiastically. The anger would return in time, but right now he needed a distraction, and the loveable mutt was happy to provide.

Danse lay propped up on the bed, Dogmeat splayed all over him, wagging his tail furiously as Danse scratched his ears, and whining when Danse dared to stop. With a laugh, he continued, basking in the animal’s sheer joy at his presence. Maybe he should get a dog too, when he…left.

The lead weight in his stomach returned, and Danse let his hand drop to his side, all interest in Dogmeat disappearing instantly. The dog whined and pushed at his arm with his nose, before giving up and sliding off the bed, padding away with an almost human-like huff.

Codsworth entered the room, holding a cup of coffee on a carefully balanced tray. How he’d managed to get coffee, Danse didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to turn a hot drink down in this weather. Especially since the robot had insisted on serving him.

“How is Miss Quinn?” Codsworth asked tentatively as Danse took his coffee with a mumbled thanks.

“Fine,” Danse replied, taking a careful first sip. It was piping hot and absolutely delicious. Quinn would be in good hands at least. Well, so to speak. He shot the strange contraptions that served as Codsworth’s ‘hands’ a quick glance.

“She had a most fierce argument with Detective Valentine,” Codsworth said woefully. “Miss Quinn was quite upset afterwards, enough to turn her ire on me! I am rather worried about her, sir. Are you keeping an eye on her?”

“No. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me around.” Danse frowned as he took another sip of his coffee. She’d mentioned a clash with Valentine, but he’d glossed over it, thinking she was trying to change the subject. Danse hadn’t realised it was a serious fight. But then again, he hadn’t bothered to ask.

“Oh...oh dear.” Codsworth floated away. “Oh dear, oh dear…”

Danse remained where he was, slowly drinking his coffee and mulling through his thoughts. Despite his posturing, he wasn’t sure if he could really just up and go. The result was hiding here, drinking stale coffee and lying in Quinn’s bed. Shaun went against everything he believed in...but he loved Quinn. Danse didn’t want to let her go.

“Master Shaun? What are you doing here?”

Shaun?

Danse split some of his coffee down himself as he sat up. Sparing only a second to impatiently brush the bitter droplets from his clothes, he jumped to his feet and set the cup down on the side as he strode to the door. Shaun stuff next to Codsworth, wrapped in a thin blanket and wiping at his tearstained face.

“Mr. Danse?” He sniffed loudly, his bottom lip trembling. Then he burst into tears. “Mom’s not waking up! I thought Codsworth might know what to do. I don’t know anyone else here! Please help her! I don’t want her to die!”

Danse had grabbed his rifle and was out the door before Shaun had finished. But he hesitated as he made it to the dark path leading back up to the settlement, and glanced over at Shaun. There were things lurking out in the black, and any one of them would find the boy easy prey. Danse jogged back, shouldering his rifle.

“Come on. Let’s go help your mother.” He picked up Shaun before the boy could argue, and held him in place with one arm, while his free hand pulled out his pistol. Danse scanned the area to make sure there was nothing obvious nearby, and then set off at a run to Sanctuary, Shaun bouncing along with his pace. He was dimly aware of Codsworth and Dogmeat trailing behind him, both blissfully quiet for once.

I must be out of shape, Danse thought as Quinn’s house drew near. He was exhausted already and the distance between the two landmarks wasn’t that great. Maybe the lack of sleep was taking its toll on him. Maybe he was getting too old to lug small children around without his power armour.

No...just out of shape.

Stupid thoughts. Meaningless thoughts. But better than the alternative. Frenzied panic, terrible scenarios, similar to his dreams of Cutler, playing on loop in his head. Despair at every argument they’d ever had, petty grievances that could be easily solved.

What had happened? Was she sick? Injured? Dead?

Danse knew the answer as soon as he stepped through her door. He could smell it in the air.

Drunk.

The cause didn’t matter. Quinn was supposed to be looking after the boy. She had promised him they’d stay sober together. Clearly that meant nothing.

“Like the promise you made to Maxson?” a voice in his head chipped in. “Look how well that turned out. One measly exile and back to the bottle you went.”

True. But he hadn’t been in charge of a child at the time either. Danse holstered his weapon with a sigh and set Shaun down.

“What’s wrong with her?” Shaun said, pulling at his blanket.

“She’s—” began Codsworth.

“Just worked herself too hard,” Danse said loudly, shooting Codsworth an angry look. The robot took his meaning and fell silent. Shaun didn’t know what intoxicated looked like—it mustn’t have been a common occurrence in the Institute.

The last thing Danse wanted to do was steal a piece of childhood away so soon. That would happen on its own eventually. He crouched down next to Quinn and moved her hair from her face, before tracing his thumb across her lips. She mumbled and pushed his hand away, letting out a slight snore.

Danse turned his attention to Shaun and forced a smile. “This is nothing some sleep won’t cure. Go back to bed and I’ll look after her for the night.”

He stood up and said to Codsworth, “There are some spare blankets in my house down the street. Can you get them, please? I want to keep her warm.”

My house.

Funny, that somehow he now owned things. Things that weren’t shared with others or bought from the Brotherhood quartermaster. His house. His clothes. And most importantly right now, his blankets.

“Right away, sir!” Codsworth floated off while Dogmeat padded over, giving Quinn a curious lick before curling up on the floor next to her.

“Good boy,” Danse muttered, before turning his attention to the room. He hadn’t noticed it earlier when he’d last spoken to Quinn, but now he could see it was a mess. Danse pottered around, straightening furniture, clearing away food wrappers and discarded clothes, while Shaun watched with wide eyes. Danse picked up the whisky, frowning at it, before hiding it in a nearby cupboard.

Shaun was well cared for and fed, but Quinn? Her living conditions reeked of self-negligence. Whatever she was going through right now, she wasn’t in her right mind. And he’d ignored it.

His train of thought was interrupted by the return of Codsworth, somehow managing to balance all his blankets with ease. Danse took them and carefully laid each one over Quinn, tucking the edges under her body.

“Would you mind patrolling the settlement tonight, Codsworth?” Danse asked as he straightened up, noting that Shaun had finally gone to his room. “Normally I’d do it, but…” He gestured to Quinn.

“Of course, sir!” Codsworth made a strange movement that looked oddly like a salute. “If you require my services again, you need only shout!”

With that, he floated away, humming. Oddly enough, Danse found himself smiling. Was he getting fond of the robot?

He could think about it later. Danse picked up a nearby armchair, setting it down opposite Quinn. He sank into it and stared at her, feeling guilty. What if something really had been wrong? What if something had happened to her, and the last conversation they’d had was an argument? The thought was near unbearable.

Danse leaned forward, taking her hand, and felt his heart skip as her fingers gripped lightly around his.

A dragging noise made Danse look up, and he saw Shaun pulling a mound of fabric into the room. Quickly jumping to his feet to disguise what he had been doing—though why he cared, he didn’t know—Danse strode over to help the boy, and quickly discovered it wasn’t just fabric, but blankets.

“Mom gave me all of this so I wouldn’t be cold,” Shaun said. He picked one up from the pile and threw it clumsily on her, before stooping down for another.

“You need some for yourself,” Danse said, well aware he’d already given all of his blankets to Quinn too. He met Shaun’s eye and pointedly said, “For your own bed. She’s fine, so off you go.” Danse leaned forward and fixed the new sheets so that they covered Quinn properly.

Shaun cast a frightened glance down the hallway and bit his lip. “I...I don’t want to.”

Danse frowned. “Why?”

“I...I had a nightmare that mom left me in the Institute,” Shaun said quickly, almost tripping over his own words with the speed of them. “That she didn’t want me. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find her. Just people...lying still and...red.” Shaun stopped, taking in a deep breath, his face scrunched up. “I woke up. Came in here, and...she…”

He started to cry again, tears falling like rain as his little body trembled with each sob. Danse leaned forward and put his hand on Shaun’s shoulder. “Shaun…”

Shaun flung his arms around Danse’s middle. When Danse sat back down in the armchair to try and pull himself away, Shaun clung on, climbing into his lap.

This was not in Danse’s comfort zone. This was about as far away from Danse’s comfort zone as physically possible, surety and ease waving mockingly in the distance before departing out of spite.

But still...he could try.

“I, uh…” Danse said, unsure what else he could say. He settled for an awkward pat on Shaun’s head. This seemed to do the trick, because while he clutched harder at Danse, Shaun stopped crying. A few minutes later, his breathing grew heavy, and Danse realised he’d fallen asleep.

Great.

Danse glanced around, wondering if there was somewhere he could deposit Shaun without waking him up. But save carrying him back to his bed, Danse was stuck. He sighed, shifting in his seat, and watched with some curiosity as Shaun wriggled closer to him, apparently unfazed by the stranger who had escorted him to Sanctuary.

Too trusting. Too...young.

Well, his gun was still within reach at any rate. Danse carefully leaned over the side of the chair and picked it up, ensuring the safeties were on before wedging it next to him. No way for it to be disturbed by either of them, and yet still ready to use at a moment’s notice.

He wasn’t too sure why he was so on edge. Maybe it was because the Brotherhood didn’t know where Quinn was. If she left it too long, they’d send out a search party for her. But that could be months. It took even longer for Cutler.

Or maybe it was because of what Quinn had said about Marguerie. That she suspected ‘something wasn’t right.’ If Marguerie suspected something, then others might too. But then again, suspicions were nothing, and Marguerie would never act without cold, hard fact. None of the Brotherhood knew where they were or where they’d gone. Sanctuary was exactly that, and a very easy place to hide in.

Shaun began to shiver, snapping Danse from his worries. He was being paranoid. He knew he was being paranoid. What mattered was the here and now.

Pushing Marguerie firmly from his mind, Danse leaned over the side of the chair again and took hold of several of the blankets, pulling them over Shaun until he stopped shivering. He woke briefly to mumble, “Thanks, Mr. Danse,” and then drifted back off to sleep.

Images of a lonely childhood flashed into his mind. Wandering the Capital Wasteland, chilly and crying. Hiding from the monsters. Dirty. Hungry. Foraging through rusted bins and city waste for the meanest scrap of food. All false memories to be sure, and yet they felt so real.

Slowly, Danse wrapped his arm around Shaun, holding him close. To stop the cold, he told himself, though he knew it was a lie. For a split second, there was a stab of anxiety. Then it was gone. He looked down at the boy and back at Quinn. A warmth was spreading in his chest.

Danse leaned his head back against the chair, sighing. He would deal with this tomorrow.

A/N: I didn’t really like the fact aside from a few throwaway lines, the companions didn’t really comment on things like the Railroad. Especially Nick. As for companion comments on the end of the Institute, didn’t seem right to have Nick congratulating her about the Institute while this was weighing on his mind. That discussion will be happening with other companions later, though.

#Fallout 4 #Paladin Danse #ss x danse #sole survivor x danse #fallout 4 fanfic #by no constraint #story #writing

23 notes · View notes