Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danse was struggling with a few different emotions that he was pretty sure he had never felt so acutely before. He knew exactly what had caused this whirlwind of confusing thoughts and feelings, but couldn’t understand why it was affecting him so.

The anger had started as a white-hot flare, although it had settled into a cold lump in his chest by now. It was initially directed at himself for not having heard the approach of the enemy and being caught unaware, then to Evelyn for bringing them to this dangerous area in the first place, but it was more directed at the Gunners at the end of the day. If he had anything to do with it, that despicable company would be wiped off the face of the Commonwealth if not the world by the time he was finished.

The frustration and annoyance had kicked in when he saw Evelyn fighting tooth and nail, bashing faces with the butt of her shotgun when she wasn’t firing point blank at the Gunners. She had opted to leave behind her power armour that morning, claiming that the weather was much too nice to be wearing a big suit of metal. He suspected it had more to do with the fact that they had been unable to locate any more reasonable sources for fusion cores and she wanted to ration what was left. He knew that she knew he wouldn’t approve, but saw the apologetic shrug she gave him and so said nothing. Later, during the fight, he wished he had at least tried to convince her it was worth the caps to wear her power armour.

Fear was now battling it out with his anger for the place in his chest. When he had turned and seen her sprawled on the ground, he had feared the worst. What Gunners that hadn’t been killed had ran off, so he had been able to rush to her, nearly shouting her name. Relief washed over him when he saw her hand move, but it was short lived as she didn’t respond any further. After a quick perimeter check, Danse risked leaving his power armour to kneel beside her.

Her left cheekbone and forehead up to her hairline were quickly darkening with a wicked bruise while blood trickled from her nose. Her eyes were unevenly dilated and she was having a hard time focusing on him, breath rasping in her chest. If he was remembering the discussions he had had with Haylen correctly, she was suffering from a concussion on top of her other injuries. A dark stain was quickly spreading on the fabric on the side of her ridiculous ‘General’ outfit that Preston had given her. With hands made shaky by fear, Danse unbuckled the small armour chest piece and pushed aside the jacket and button-up shirt beneath, trepidation overriding any improprieties of stripping a fellow officer on the battlefield. He knew if she were more aware she would make some ribald joke just to see his reaction, but he still wished she would look at him and say something, anything.

Shrapnel from a car that had blown up during the fight had buried itself in the flesh just above her hip. Only the edge was visible, and blood was already welling up over it. Danse had no way to know how deep it was, and could only hope it hadn’t hit any organs in her belly.

SNAFU, he knew she would say if she had been awake enough. She was fond of military acronyms and had a terrible habit of using them in the most inappropriate situations.

“I need to get you back to Sanctuary.” Danse told her, “Curie will be able to help.”

He found a reasonably clean shirt in her pack from her scavenging and used it as a bandage before doing up her shirt and jacket again. Instead of lugging the pack and her home, he tucked the bag and her armour chest piece in the roots of a nearby tree and marked the location on the Pip Boy on her limp arm. Danse then got back into his power armour and carefully gathered her into his arms, inwardly wincing at her groan as her eyes rolled back in her head and she went still. He froze, staring at her lax face for a long minute to make sure her breathing was steady enough. It was, and he let out his own breath in relief.

The sun was high and hot in the sky. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, despite the cooling capabilities of his power armour. He was grateful for the suit’s capability to make his charge seem weightless as well. She had leaned out considerably over the couple months that he had known her, but she was still taller and more muscled than many others in her rag tag group of followers.

Danse determinedly marched on, only stopping briefly to drink water and try to get some into her as well periodically. She never gained enough consciousness to speak, although she did stir and groan every now and then when jostled. Dark came on too soon, and Danse despaired when he realized he would have to stop for the night. Sanctuary Hills was still a few hours away, and with a new moon just the night before it was too dangerous to carry on in the pitch black.

He found partial shelter against an embankment, overlooked by a dead tree with branches that seemed to claw at the sky. He settled her against the embankment, making sure to prop her up slightly, and then roundly but silently berated himself for not thinking to grab any supplies from her pack that he had stashed. She would have had at least a blanket, and possibly even a precious stimpack stashed in with the junk that she collected.

Danse checked the small pack that she had convinced him to take on, and pulled out a leather jacket she had found somewhere on their travels. He shook it out and draped it over her, noting that she was already beginning to tremble in the cool evening air. The bruising on her face looked terrible, but didn’t seem to be swelling. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but her lower face was crusted with dried rivulets. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her chest, Danse would have feared the worst, she looked that bad. He tried to rouse her again, but when he didn’t get a response he risked another look at the wound in her side. The bleeding had stopped, fortunately, but it still didn’t look good. He needed to get her to Sanctuary.

A wild dog barked in the distance, far enough away that he wasn’t concerned, but it was enough of a reminder that he should check the perimeter and set traps to alert him of anyone or anything that stumbled upon them. He pulled the jacket over her again, and began his checks.

By the time he returned, she was shivering in earnest. Danse pulled more clothing from his pack and haphazardly draped it over her. He mentally debated on whether to start a fire or not, knowing that it could attract unwanted attention, but the night air was still cooling and the meagre covering that he had scavenged for her did not appear to be doing the trick. He finally decided a small fire would benefit them, and soon had one going. He pulled her closer to the fire and put her in the recovery position before covering her up again. He sat on the opposite side of the fire, using his power armour to shield the worst of the light from the open plains where anything could lurk.

Danse set his armour to alert him of any movement nearby, and set himself to keeping watch all night. He had done it before, and knew it wouldn’t be much of a problem. They were only a matter of hours from Sanctuary, and with any luck they would come across someone from the settlement that could help them sooner than that. However, as the night went on, he found his gaze being drawn back to the fire. He wished he had his BOS cap to keep his ears warm, but knew that was a lost cause. The first time, he had genuinely believed it an accident when it ‘slipped’ from her fingers over the fire. Unimpressed as he was, he hadn’t said anything as she mouthed a dramatic ‘oops’. He replaced it the next time they were aboard the Prydwen, but it was less than a week later when he found it in Dogmeat’s house, much slobbered and chewed on. Dogmeat had barked happily and gazed adoringly at his master, who carefully didn’t make eye contact with Danse. He grudgingly gave up after that, although he had to admit that it was nice to have a breeze through his hair during the day. It helped that she seemed fascinated with his hair as well, running her fingers through it every chance she felt she could get away with it.

Their relationship was still in its early stages, but he was already having difficulty imagining a life without her. She drove him to distraction some days, and they didn’t always agree, but they had found a kind of solace in each other.

An alarm suddenly startled him out of his revery, and he realized with a start that he had dozed off. He lurched to his feet, gun in hand, as he looked for the source of alarm. Something slammed into him from behind with enough force to actually send him to his knees. He managed to hang onto his gun and swung wildly behind him, but his arm only swished through empty air. The hydraulics on his power armour suddenly lost pressure, and the familiar beep of power armour about to open chimed.

“What the…” Danse couldn’t believe what was happening, and how fast it was happening. The back of his armour opened, and strong hands were dragging him out of its confines. He let out a strangled yell of rage, but it was all he managed before he was in the dirt, being pummelled by fists and boots and getting dirt kicked in his face. All he could do was curl up as best as he could, trying to protect his face with his arms, although he managed to snag an ankle and drop one of his assailants on their back. All it earned him was an even more violent bout of kicks, and a strong hit to his temple left him reeling, sprawling loosely in the dirt.

He could vaguely hear whoops and whistles, and made out dark figures standing by the fire, pawing through the slim pickings in his pack and poking at Evelyn on the other side of the fire. She was blinking blearily at their attackers and trying to move, but was obviously in too much pain to do much.

Danse struggled to rise, and managed to get to his hands and knees before a blow to the back of his head sent him spiralling into darkness.

Chapter Text

Regaining consciousness was not pleasant. There was movement, and noise, and pain. It took some time, but he finally realized that his wrists and ankles had been bound and he was being dragged by the arm by someone who was wearing his power armour. He was pretty sure he had broken ribs, and something was seriously wrong with the arm he was being dragged by, but the pain was too bright and blinding to pinpoint the source.

Evelyn.

Danse twisted his head, desperately looking for her, and only slightly relaxed when he saw her being dragged in a similar fashion by the other arm of his power armour. She was pale, the dried blood on her face only accenting that fact, and appeared to be unconscious again.

It was still dark, so he was pretty sure he hadn’t lost much time. Fortunately, their attackers came to their encampment soon after. There were a few tents set up as well as some ramshackle buildings, one of which Danse and Evelyn were tossed into. Two of their attackers followed them in, holding shackles. Danse fought like hell, but they only brought in another two thugs to help and he soon found his wrists bound behind his back and ankles tied even more securely with the rope. Evelyn was given similar treatment before the door was shut and barred, closing them in darkness.

Danse was seriously hurting, but shuffled over in the darkness to where he remembered seeing Evelyn last and made sure she was still breathing. She was, and apparently faking.

“Danse?” Her voice was hoarse but it was the sweetest sound he had heard in a long time.

“Evelyn!” He managed to think to whisper. “Are you alright? Hold still, you have shrapnel embedded in your side and I think you may have a concussion.”

“I’d say,” Evelyn groused. “The world needs to stop spinning like, an hour ago.”

“You’ve been feigning unconsciousness this whole time?”

“I think so…” She didn’t sound very certain about it. “I think I know where we are, though. Remember that camp we found about an hour almost straight east of Sanctuary? I think this is just over the rise from there.”

Danse considered this, and had to admit that it was very possible, but wasn’t able to confirm for himself. He trusted her uncanny ability of remembering terrain like that, though.

“If we can get out of here, it wouldn’t be that far home.”

“I like how you think.” She motioned with her hand like a gun firing, which he could barely make out in the darkness. He didn’t always understand her strange gestures and sayings, but was pretty sure that one in particular was a positive sign, despite the fact that it was a gun.

Some light was filtering in through cracks in the building, and Danse found that his eyes were adjusting to it. The light wasn’t sunlight yet, though; the raiders had built a large bonfire that roared maybe 30 feet from the building they were locked in.

It took some struggling and pained gasps, but both Danse and Evelyn were able to get their bound wrists in front of them. Danse immediately set to work on the ropes around his ankles, while Evelyn inspected the shackles around her own wrists.

The door to the shack was unbarred and kicked in suddenly. A raider dragging a heavy chain stomped in, followed by two other mean looking thugs.

“Pip-boy. Now.” Chain raider demanded, holding a hand out towards Evelyn. She shot Danse a glance, and looked like she was thinking of protesting, but she managed to stagger to her feet and took it off without a word. One of the other raiders quickly stepped forward and tried to snatch it away, but Evelyn stumbled and fell against him. The raider grunted in annoyance, grabbed the Pip-boy and shoved her away as the first raider raised the chain.

Danse saw what was going to happen and acted before he actually thought it through. He had managed to get his feet free, and leapt at Evelyn, shielding her with his body as the chain whistled through the air and connected solidly with his back. All the air in his lungs seemed to evacuate at once, forcing a grunt from him as they hit the ground. The chain came down again and again, and he could hear Evelyn screaming beneath him although she sounded far away.

The last thing he remembered was his cheek hitting the dirt floor of the shack.

***

Evelyn let out a choked snarl of rage as the raiders slammed and barred the door. She snatched up the pipe pistol from where she had tossed it after snagging it off the particularly thick-skulled raider, and checked that it had bullets. Four. Four measly shots.

Danse was limp on the ground, blood trickling down his neck from somewhere in his hair. She managed to drag him towards the back wall, although she was glad it wasn’t very far. Her side was throbbing, and she could feel something warm and sticky trailing down her hip. She collapsed against the back wall, pulling as much of Danse’s upper body into her lap as she could, and put the gun down within easy reach but out of sight from the door.

Danse’s left eye was swelling, a wicked looking bruise quickly spreading across his face. His bottom lip was split on one side, and a gash had been opened up on the back of his head. She tore off a strip of her shirt to staunch the flow as best as she could. Considering she had heard a distinct snap during the beating with the chain, she knew he had at least one broken bone but had no idea where to start with that. He was deeply unconscious, his breathing shallow and stuttering.

Think, Evie, think! She had to find a way out of here and get them home. But how? Even if she could get them out and the shackles off, she had to figure out how to drag Danse’s 6’2” muscled frame all the way home.

She knew his power armour was out there. If she could get out of the shack and get to the power armour, she could use that to take out some more raiders and carry Danse home.

But they had drug him out of the armour, hadn’t they? She would have to watch out for whatever trick they had to manage that.

As these thoughts bounced around her skull, she heard an alarmed shout outside. Gunfire started soon after, followed by the sounds of shattering molotov cocktails and anguished screams. Evelyn pulled Danse closer and found herself clutching the gun, pointing it at the door. Great, just what they needed: a mutiny amongst the raiders. It was pretty much a guarantee that it would not end well for the prisoners.

After some time, the sounds of fighting dwindled and died. She could hear people walking around and talking, but couldn’t make out individual voices or what they were saying. Eventually, someone approached the shack they were in and the bar was removed. Evelyn knew it was potentially a waste of bullets, but gritted her teeth and fired a warning shot above the door.

“Whoa whoa!” A familiar voice yelled outside, “We mean you no harm!”

“Garvey?!” Evelyn’s relieved shout cracked. The door slowly pushed open, and she blinked in the sudden light. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, but it was blinding after being in the dark. She blinked blearily, and managed to make out Preston and Valentine peering in.

Evelyn let the pipe gun fall to the dirt, closing her eyes and letting her head rest on the wall behind her as a smile crossed her face.

“Am I ever glad to see you…”

The shack suddenly went dark again, and her eyes snapped open, but it was just Strong ducking down and filling the doorway as he entered.

“Metalman dead?” Strong had yet to master the ‘indoor voice’, and didn’t sound like he cared too much about the answer to his question one way or the other.

“No, but he’s hurt, and I’m not sure how bad it is yet. Be careful, please.”

Strong grunted noncommittally, but pulled Danse out of the shack gently enough and deposited him outside on the ground while Valentine and Preston helped her up and out as well. Dogmeat happily greeted her, barking and slobbering all over her hands and face.

“One of your provisioners recognized Danse’s power armour on his way by last night and figured something was up. Dogmeat’s the one that narrowed down the search,” Valentine informed her as he found a key to the shackles and removed them, “We wouldn’t have gotten here so soon if it wasn’t for him.”

Evelyn bestowed the warranted scratches and coos on her furry companion, but soon turned her worried gaze to where Preston was kneeling beside Danse. The soldier was still out cold, and couldn’t be roused. Garvey quickly discovered that Danse’s left arm was broken and his shoulder dislocated, as well as four broken ribs on top of his other injuries. The shoulder was easy enough to pop back into place, but Garvey could only bind his ribs and broken arm for further treatment back at the settlement.

“We should get him back to Sanctuary, pronto.” Preston advised.

“Good idea.” Evelyn went to get to her feet, but came to an abrupt halt with a pained groan. She had forgotten about her own injuries. She tried to wave off Preston and Valentine as they descended on her, but the blood stain on her side and down her leg gave her away. Preston soon announced that it needed more serious attention at Sanctuary, and they quickly made the travel arrangements. Strong carried Danse across his shoulders, with instructions from Preston to be gentle. Strong just huffed at the Minuteman and set out on his way home. Valentine carried Evelyn bridal-style, his synth frame being able to handle her weight without getting tired. Preston found a bag of fusion cores and used one to enter Danse’s armour as Evelyn wouldn’t let them leave it behind. Just as they were leaving camp, Dogmeat began barking frantically as he pawed at the dead raider that Evelyn recognized by the chain wrapped around his waist.

“Wait!” She called, and Dogmeat came bounding towards them with her Pip-boy in his mouth. “Thanks, boy.”

Chapter Text

Danse snapped awake, a jolt running through his body. There was movement, and noise, and pain. The raiders still had them, was moving them again, possibly even further from Sanctuary. He flailed blindly, even as pain shot through him, and felt his fist make a solid connection. He was suddenly falling, and hit the ground, hard. Stunned, he could only claw at the dirt while he tried to remember how to breathe.

“Strong!” He could hear Evelyn yelling, “You could have at least tried to put him down without dropping him!”

The super mutant just snorted, but he did crouch down to check if Danse was still breathing.

“He did it to himself, Evie,” A voice that sounded a lot like Valentine said, “Nailed Strong right in the neck.”

“Oh. Sorry, Strong.”

Power armour clanked nearby, hissing as it released its occupant. Danse managed to peel his eyes open somewhat and recognized Preston climbing out of his armour.

“What—” Danse tried to speak, but was cut off by a coughing fit that lit up his ribs with white hot pain. It was a hacking cough, starting in his chest, and he abruptly had the feeling that he was drowning.

“Get him up!” Someone, he thought it was maybe Garvey, was yelling. He was roughly hauled upright into a sitting position, which helped enough for him to suck in a much needed breath, but the pain was relentless. “Get Curie over here!”

Strong picked him up, carrying him like a child. Danse oddly couldn’t find it in himself to care, more concerned about the taste of copper in his mouth and the warm liquid sliding down his chin. His head lolled as Strong carried him over the wooden bridge into Sanctuary, and he found himself unable to control any of his limbs. He could see Evelyn struggling in Valentine’s arms, but the detective wisely didn't put her down until they reached a cot in the makeshift infirmary that Curie had set up in Sanctuary. Danse was deposited rather more gently onto a cot, and could make out a blurry figure that he was pretty sure was Curie but couldn’t confirm. His lungs strained for air, giving up on giant lungfuls and going for short, rapid gasps instead. His vision was blurring and darkening, and quickly.

Something sharp lanced through his chest with a pop, but within seconds he found he could breathe easier. Curie came into focus above him, deftly preparing a syringe and pressing it to his neck.

“Wait…” He feebly tried to lift an arm, but it was too late. Everything was happening too fast. Whatever it was entered his bloodstream with a gentle hiss and he found himself drifting off.

***

The next time Danse woke was much more gentle than the last few times. He became aware of soft voices nearby before becoming aware of his own body. The sharp pain from before was dulled by whatever he was on, the painkillers keeping him pleasantly divorced from the pain he knew was coming. His left arm was strapped across his stomach, which was why he realized he was shirtless, laying on a too small cot that left his bare feet dangling off the end. He was propped up on several comfy pillows, and could suddenly forgive Evelyn for making him haul every last one of them home from all the hospitals and asylums they had explored.

“Monsieur Danse!” Curie was suddenly there, “You’re awake!”

Danse wasn’t sure how to respond to such an inane comment, but found he didn’t have to as Curie checked him over and chattered between asking him about how he was feeling and if there was pain.

“Where’s Evelyn? Is she okay?” He managed to ask once he had gotten some water to ease his parched throat.

“Oh, yes, she is just fine,” Curie assured him, “The shrapnel in her side was not nearly as embedded as I feared. It bled a fair amount but looked far worse than it actually was. You were not so lucky, I’m afraid.”

She told him that he had slept for two days, and ran him through his list of injuries and how long he would need to rest to allow them to heal, which he mentally deducted a week or two off of. He had always been a fast healer. Curie also described using an obscene amount of stimpacks, which he was sure she had to be exaggerating. No one could possibly need four stimpacks and then sleep for another two days, surely.

Once satisfied with his condition, she left him with instructions to get some rest and went to tinker with one of her experiments in the small lab that had been set up.

Danse waited until he heard her leave the infirmary building before carefully sitting up on the edge of the cot. He was sore, but a quick visual once over didn’t reveal any gaping wounds. He touched the back of his head and couldn’t stop a hiss of pain, but the wound was neatly stitched and even on its way to healing already.

Danse stood and rolled his good shoulder, trying to stretch the ache out of his muscles. He was feeling weak and shaky, but was able to walk easily enough to the doorway where he leaned on the frame to squint out into the settlement in the bright sunlight.

Evelyn was standing in the garden, talking with one of the settlers as they inspected the corn crop. Dogmeat was laying at her feet, but he spotted Danse almost immediately and came trotting over, greeting him with a soft ‘boof’ and nuzzling his wet nose into Danse’s palm.

“Hey, boy.” Danse rubbed the dog’s ears and looked up to see Evelyn watching him. She had changed into jeans and a flannel shirt that hung open over a mostly white tank top, and he knew her general outfit was more than likely hanging on her laundry line after she had carefully washed and repaired it. She seemed well enough, and didn’t even appear to be favouring her side where she had been injured, although he could see even from here that she did have a bandage under the tank top.

The intense relief at seeing her healthy and while with his own two eyes startled him. He had been worried about her, and hadn't thought twice about throwing himself between her and danger, and despite his aching body he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Evelyn acknowledged him with a smile and gave him the ‘just a minute’ signal while continuing her conversation with the settler as they moved on to the melons. Dogmeat huffed at Danse before going back to join his master.

Danse stretched again, mindful of his sore arm, and settled more comfortably in the chair that was set in front of the infirmary. Content to take in the sunshine and the view while he waited, he had time to consider when he had started finding his home in two eyes and a heartbeat.