The Brotherhood's higher ups were… interesting, to say the least. MacCready found he didn't hate them half as much as he thought he would. He might have even gone so far as to say he could get along with some of them. Certainly, none of them quite brushed the pair of them up the wrong way like Maxson did.

They started with a man named Quinlan. The Proctor, as his title was given, was apparently the resident keeper of the archives, so to speak. He kept hold of all the important documentation, sorted databases, and collected any and all information.

"So. New blood?" His eyes were sharp behind his glasses, and he spoke with a smooth English accent. MacCready wondered how he'd picked that up. There was a soft mewing sound from near the merc's ankles, and he looked down to see a tiny grey cat rubbing up against his leg affectionately. He smiled, and bent down to pet her as Nate addressed the Proctor.

"Yes, sir. I was told we were to speak to you?"

"Indeed." He surveyed MacCready with a look that wasn't quite disapproving, but that still managed to seem disdainful. "I have some basic paperwork for the pair of you to fill out. You are literate, aren't you?"

"What? Of course we are!" Nate sounded offended. MacCready just rolled his eyes and continued to scratch the cat behind the ears.

"My apologies. I find you never can tell with- ah- civilians." He pulled open a drawer and handed Nate a blank form and a pen. "You too." He addressed MacCready. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with Persephone at a later date. She likes to wander."

MacCready looked up at the Proctor. "You named her Persephone?" He smiled. "That's cool. I have a cat called Cassiopeia. Well, I guess she's not really mine, but she seems to like me, and I give her food, so…" He trailed off, shrugging. Quinlan's eyes widened.

"You are aware of the Greek mythos? Remarkable."

"Yeah. I always liked the ancient Greek stuff. I had this really heavy book with a bunch of myths in it." He chuckled. "I don't know how many times I read that thing cover to cover."

"I wasn't aware such literature was available in the Commonwealth. Or that anyone had any interest in it."

"Technically it would have been the Capital Wasteland it was available in. And… Yeah, it wasn't common. But hey, we got bored, and some of those books you find in old buildings are still in decent condition."

"Fascinating. Not enough people these days are as well-read as they should be."

MacCready reluctantly gave Persephone one last stroke and stood, taking the form from the Proctor. "Well hey, maybe we should talk some time. I'm kinda short on reading material at the moment." He grinned, enjoying the look of incredulity on the Proctor's face. No one ever expected the dirty merc to be cultured. Nate shook his head at him just a little when they made eye contact, grinning, then returned to filling in the form. MacCready did the same. It was basic stuff- name, date of birth, place of origin, medical history. He found himself glancing over at Nate's form more than once, reading through all the impossible-sounding stuff he'd written down. He learned this way that Nate had had his appendix out when he was eleven, and that he had been to China during his time in the military. He winked at his partner as he handed the filled in form and pen back, and MacCready watched Quinlan's expression as he read Nate's relatively neat handwriting.

"Knight, you do realise I need this for official documentation, correct?" The Proctor raised his eyebrow.

"Yes. Is there a problem, Proctor?" Nate asked, the picture of innocence.

"2052? Really?" Nate nodded. "You cannot expect me to believe this."

"Blame Vault-Tec." The redhead grinned. "I hear cryotechnology was big back in the seventies. Uh…" He backtracked. "The twenty-seventies."

"You were sealed in a vault? In cryostasis?" Quinlan glanced over him, disbelief and fascination in his expression.

"What, you haven't heard of me? I think I've picked up a bit of a reputation as 'the man frozen in time'." MacCready snorted, and Quinlan gave him an unamused look, before returning his attention to the form.

"This is… You are certainly the first in our ranks to have been through such an experience. I shall be interested to see what your medical examination results come back looking like."

"Me too, in all honesty. If my outsides are anything to go by, my insides won't be as pretty as they used to be."

Quinlan's eyes swept over him, resting on the scars that decorated his face. "Indeed." He accepted MacCready's form as well, doing a quick scan over it, but seemed to find nothing of note. "Well. I have work to be getting on with, so unless you wish to assist me with said work, I suggest you move on. I assume Knight-Captain Cade will want to get his hands on you next." With that, he turned away, and filed the paperwork away. MacCready looked over at Nate, who motioned for them to leave. As they walked away, MacCready caught sight of Persephone jumping up onto Quinlan's desk and curling up. He smiled a little, and wondered if the eloquent Proctor would be as prickly on his off time, or if he would actually get the chance to talk to him about his old books.

They walked through the canteen on their way to the medical office, and MacCready caught sight of Danse, who seemed to watch them as they went past, a pensive expression on his face. When he noticed MacCready looking at him though, he smiled and nodded a greeting. MacCready smiled back, then caught up with Nate.

The medical area was little more than an office off the side of the hall, much like Quinlan's. A man sat behind a desk there, and looked up at their approach.

"Ah. So you're the new knights. Here for the medical, I presume?"

"Yeah, sure." MacCready glanced around at the various equipment lying around. "So what are you gonna have us do?"

"Oh, no need to worry. It's mostly a verbal exam. Depending on your answers I might require a blood sample, or something like that."

"Okay."

"Right. Shall we get right to it?" He tapped away at a terminal for a bit, then glanced up. "Name?"

"Uh… Robert Joseph MacCready."

"Right. And you?"

"Nathaniel Elliot Delaney."

"And were you exposed to radiation as a child?"

"Nope. I'm prewar. Came from Vault 111."

Cade looked up. "Prewar?" MacCready rolled his eyes. Here we go again.

"Yup."

"Do you mind if I run some tests? Just basic information… We've never had a case like yours before."

"Eh, sure, I guess."

"Excellent." He typed something into the terminal again. "I suppose that means you've had prewar medical treatment. Immunisations and the like."

"Yeah. Not sure how many of them will still be valid though."

"Anything is good. Basically I just want to make sure no infectious diseases will make their way on board. Have you suffered any sickness since leaving your vault?"

"Uh… I got a stomach bug after a few days out. I think it was because I ate something bad. Does an infection count?"

"An infected wound?" Cade looked up from the screen. "Technically no, but it will still be useful for our records."

"Then I suffered a nasty case of gangrene in my leg a few months ago."

"I assume you fought it off, then?"

"Not exactly. I have a prosthetic."

"I see. You may want to speak to Proctor Ingram. She can assist you should you need it repaired or adjusted." Nate nodded, and Cade turned his attention to MacCready. "And yourself? Any extended radiation exposure?"

"I don't think so. Nothing worse than the usual."

"Good. I'm going to assume you have a normal immune response for the average Wastelander."

"Pretty much. I got the flu once, and I've had my fair share of colds and stuff."

"Mm." Cade wrote this down. "Right. Next up: Have you ever had or come into contact with anyone carrying a communicable disease?"

"Nah. Nothing serious."

"And yourself?" He asked Nate.

"Nope."

"Good. That's good. Finally, and please be honest, this is for medical reasons, nothing more…" He glanced between them. "Have either of you had sexual relations with any being considered inhuman?"

Nate's eyes widened at that question, but MacCready shrugged it off. Staying in Goodneighbour, he knew relationships between humans and ghouls weren't as uncommon as you might think. That, and with the latest synth epidemic…

"No, I haven't- do you get that a lot?"

Cade raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised. Personally I find the idea… distasteful, but…" He grimaced. Nate glanced at MacCready, who hadn't responded, as he was thinking through many evenings spent drunk in bars after having lost Lucy, and the various bad decisions he made during that time.

"Wait… RJ, have you…?" He sounded incredulous, but not necessarily disgusted, which MacCready was grateful for.

"I… Maybe? I mean, with the synths, you can't tell just by looking, and… well, Goodneighbour gets a lot of traffic." He felt a flush on his cheeks, and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. That was a bad time in his life, and he didn't really want to discuss it.

"In that case, I'll want some tests from you too. Just to make sure." MacCready nodded, and was grateful when Cade moved on. "Finally, would you have nay problems pulling the trigger on an enemy of the Brotherhood, be they human, formerly human or otherwise?"

Both of them shifted at that, and MacCready wondered if he should be honest, or outright lie. Nate seemed to be thinking the same.

"That's not really a medical question, is it?" He asked, and MacCready noticed his fingers curled into a fist on his thigh. Cade gave him a look.

"It's my job to assess the mental wellbeing of our members, as well as the physical."

"Well then… I won't discriminate. If someone deserves it, they deserve it."

Cade seemed to note his careful wording, pausing a moment, before replying, "I see." MacCready got the feeling he might note down to watch the redhead's actions, but he didn't ask any follow up questions. Instead, he indicated for MacCready to answer. For a moment, the merc was lost for words, unsure of the correct response. He decided to go with his gut.

"I worked as a merc. If someone tells me to shoot, I shoot. Can't really afford to be picky." He bit his lip, adding, "To a point."

Cade gave a short nod, and wrote that down. "Alright. That's it for the questions." He told them, and stood. "If you're alright to do it now, I'd like to take some blood samples from the pair of you." They acquiesced, and Cade proceeded to do as such. The pair of them had had enough experience with stimpaks and the like, so neither were bothered by the needles, and it was over with quickly. Afterwards, MacCready prepared to leave, but Nate stopped him.

"One more thing." He turned to Cade. "Do you have any med-X going spare?" MacCready frowned a little. He'd been taking the stuff since he'd had his leg amputated, claiming phantom pains. MacCready wasn't sure how long that was supposed to happen for. Surely it couldn't be for the rest of his life.

"Not going spare, no, but if you have the caps to reimburse me I can sell you some."

Nate smiled. "Thanks." They exchanged goods, and Nate stopped in the corridor to inject the painkiller into his arm. He noticed the look MacCready was giving him as he rolled his sleeve back down. "What?"

"Didn't you already take some this morning?"

"It's worn off." Nate checked his pip-boy. "It's been more than four hours, that's how long I'm supposed to wait, right?"

"Does it really hurt that badly?"

"It's enough to get to me. It's not gonna cripple me in battle, if that's what you're worried about, but…" He grimaced. "It's definitely uncomfortable."

"Mmm." MacCready let it go, but resolved to ask Carrington about it the next time he got the chance.

Proctor Teagan was next up on their list, and he seemed friendly enough, though MacCready got the feeling he might be involved in some of the Brotherhood's more questionable procedures. He sold arms and ammo, and though he didn't have any questions or forms for them, he did brief them on 'assisting' with missions should they be stuck for something to do. Nate politely declined his request, but promised to return should they have the time. MacCready knew this was doubtful, thinking of everything they had on their plate at the time, but didn't say anything. And finally, they met with the vessel's resident mechanic.

The first and most noticeable thing about Proctor Ingram was the power armour frame she wore; unlike most of the suits present aboard the Prydwen, it was bare, lacking the heavy metal plating that the others had in abundance. Secondly… MacCready chanced a glance at Nate as she approached to greet them, and sure enough, Nate's expression was one of surprise, his gaze trained on the metal framework where the woman's legs should have been.

"Afternoon. I assume Kells sent you off to do the rounds, correct? Well, my name's Ingram, and I do the handiwork around here. If your power armour's too tight in the crotch, they Prydwen's about to crash or a robot's gone haywire, you come see me." She glanced over them, and seemed to roll her eyes at Nate. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Oh, no! No, I just…" He backtracked, seeming to realise he was staring, and pulled up the leg of his jeans, showing her the metal underneath. She blinked, her expression registering mild shock.

"Ah. I see. Not used to seeing others with the same issue, huh?"

"No, this is… kind of a recent thing. I'll be honest with you, kinda thought my life was over for a while after it happened." Nate adjusted the fabric back into place, covering the limb.

"I know what you mean. Took me longer than I'd like to admit to get back on my feet." She gave a sarcastic smile. "So to speak. How long's it been?"

"Maybe… four and a half, five months."

She seemed surprised at this. "Really? You seem to be doing well for that short a time. I was still learning to walk."

"A friend rigged me up with some useful tech. Hydraulic assistance, I believe."

"I see. You'll have to let me have a look sometime. I could learn something."

"Yeah." Nate smiled. "I get why the doc told me to come here now."

"Cade? Yeah, he helped me rig this baby up." She tapped the side of her suit. "Very useful, but… I do miss being able to fit through doors." She grimaced a little. "Hey, if you want, I can fix up your power armour to accommodate. I can't imagine it's compatible with your prosthetic."

"I haven't actually tried, so I wouldn't know."

"Mm. Well, if you want me to take a look, I'll get you measured up and figure something out."

"Thanks." He gave her a grateful nod. "Oh, I'm Nate, by the way. Nate Delaney. And this is RJ."

"Uh, Robert MacCready." MacCready told her.

"Hmph. You'll be his… what? Friend? Hired help?" She looked him up and down, and MacCready could tell she was assessing his dirty, rough appearance.

"Boyfriend." He told her, shifting towards Nate ever so slightly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Uh huh. Well, look after him."

"I try." MacCready gave Nate a look. "He likes to get into trouble." Nate returned the look, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. That made Ingram laugh.

"I can see that. Good luck."

"Gonna need it." MacCready grumbled, and Nate gave him a light shove on the shoulder, making him smirk.

"Alright, well, you've each got a storage locker and a bed, make sure to pick up a uniform, and don't worry, yes you each have your own suit of power armour. Treat it well, maybe you won't have to talk to me too much."

"I don't know. I feel like I could get along with you." Nate had his charm on again, that self confident little smirk on his face.

Ingram smiled, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know some people who'd disagree with you."

"I'll do my best not to listen to them." He responded, and she rolled her eyes.

"Go on, get moving. I'm sure someone's got a job for you."

"Undoubtedly."

She turned back to her work, and Nate faced MacCready. "I like her."

"I can tell. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to talk later."

"Yeah."

They found their lockers easily enough, each with a cleanly pressed Brotherhood flight suit and standard-issue laser rifle. Somewhat reluctantly, MacCready got into it, feeling a little bit uncomfortable in the uniform he'd come to associate with so many bad things. Nate had some trouble getting it on over his prosthetic, as the material was designed to be form-fitting. When he finally managed to pull it up, he whistled softly.

"This doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?" He twisted, looking over himself. MacCready watched him, agreeing that yes, it was… very nice to look at. Nate caught him staring and posed, winking. MacCready wasn't sure if he should blush or laugh. He ended up doing both.

"It suits you." He told the redhead, grinning. "Matches your hair."

"Shut up." Nate moved closer, pulling him up from where he was sat and giving him a once-over. "Yup. As I thought."

"What?"

He leaned closer, his hand on the small of MacCready's back. "Your ass looks great in that."

That did make MacCready blush, and he hit Nate lightly, aware of the looks the other soldiers present were giving them.

"Nate." His partner chuckled, and kissed him lightly before stepping back.

"Alright then. Shall we get going?" He packed all their stuff away, except for their weapons and a few basic healing supplies. MacCready nodded, and off they went.

Before starting on their first mission, Nate suggested they stop for something to eat, so they found themselves heading back to the space that seemed to function as both a canteen and a social space. As Nate went to get their food, MacCready found himself sat at a table by himself. It wasn't long before some one took one of the other chairs. He looked up, and saw Danse. For the first time since they'd met, the Paladin was out of his armour, and MacCready saw that he was almost as bulky without it, clearly someone who put a lot of work into his body.

"Soldier." He nodded politely in greeting.

"Hey." MacCready didn't want to come off as rude, but he wasn't entirely sure what Danse wanted from him. He wasn't the sweet-talker Nate was.

"I see you've acquainted yourself with our superior officers."

"Yeah. They seem nice enough. I like Quinlan."

"You do?" Danse seemed surprised by that.

"Yup. And his cat."

"Huh." Danse's attention seemed to drift for a moment, and he glanced at the queue where Nate was stood. "…And Knight Delaney?"

MacCready blinked, thrown off for a second. He wasn't used to hearing Nate referred to by his last name. "He seems happy enough. I get the feeling he and Ingram are going to get along."

"Hm." Danse went quiet for a moment. "I apologise if I overstep my bounds as your superior officer, but if I might ask, what is your relationship with him?"

"With Nate?" The merc was surprised by that question. He didn't think Danse was the sort to be interested in their personal lives. "He's my fiancé, actually."

"You're engaged?" Danse seemed taken aback. "I see."

"Is there a problem with that?" MacCready asked, mildly defensive.

"No! Not at all. I just-" He was interrupted as Nate returned, carrying food.

"Paladin!" He smiled as he took his place beside MacCready. "What are you doing here?"

MacCready caught Danse's glance at the ring on Nate's finger before he responded. "Just talking. If we're going to be working together it's important to ensure we're on good terms."

"Can't argue with that." Nate seemed happy to engage in conversation as they ate, and though Danse remained stoic and formal, he had plenty to talk about. MacCready couldn't help but wonder why he had been so curious about their relationship as to approach him about it, but he didn't ask.

After they ate, they reported to the Lance-Captain, as instructed. It turned out their first job would be to clear out an old military base by the name of Fort Strong. Apparently it was overrun with super mutants. MacCready was grateful for this, as super mutants and ferals were the two things he could agree with the Brotherhood on. Oh, and those creepy early model synths. Working with the Railroad had assuaged a lot of his fears surrounding gen 3 synths, so he really didn't want to get caught up in an attack against any innocent synth settlers. The only part of this mission that was worrying him was the fact that they'd be going in by air. That and Danse had insisted they wear their power armour, so MacCready was back inside one of the claustrophobic suits, against his better judgement. It turned out that Nate could still operate one of the suits without too much trouble, as his prosthetic behaved in much the same way his real leg did. The mission itself wasn't too difficult. After his initial discomfort, MacCready was able to assist in taking down the enemies that resided on the strip of land just off the coast, including a behemoth which absorbed, in his opinion, far too many minigun rounds before it finally went down. At first, MacCready was worried for Nate, since this was his first combat experience since he'd lost his leg. He kept a close eye on his fiancé, making sure to cover him as best as he could. Thankfully, Nate seemed to be taking his advice to heart, picking off the mutants with his rifle, and engaging them one-on-one when he did return to melee, rather than barrelling right in to fight four or five at once like he usually would. Of course, it did help that they had a number of Brotherhood soldiers fighting alongside them, including Paladin Danse, so there were plenty of combatants for their opponents to choose from. Once the outside was cleared, they began to make their way through the building. Nate seemed to lead the charge without even intending to, automatically slipping into a leadership role as they scouted the building. A few times, Danse would override Nate's orders, reminding the troops who the actual leader was, but for the best part, he seemed to concede that Nate knew what he was doing. The power armour allowed MacCready to get closer to the action than he would normally, and he knew he'd be returning with a few new dents when the mission was over. At one point, a mutant hit him with hard enough force to knock him over, and he was grateful for the heavy metal casing, as he knew that would have resulted in broken ribs at the very least otherwise.

Before too long, the building was clear. Their goal- a decent-sized stash of mini-nukes- was apprehended by a group of soldiers, and the fighters moved aside to take a breather. MacCready removed his helmet, grateful to breathe in cool air, and watched as Nate did the same. The Paladin, identifiable by the red rings painted around the limbs of his armour, remained in the heart of it all, giving orders and assisting in the transportation of the weaponry out of the building. MacCready made his way over to Nate, finding a relatively quiet space for the pair of them to talk.

"Not sure how I feel about this kind of weaponry being in their hands." He murmured to Nate, watching as a pair of knights carried out a box of the incredibly volatile miniature bombs.

"Mm." Nate was watching too, an expression of mild concern on his face. "We should probably tell Des about this."

"Well, we always knew heavy firepower was kind of their thing." The merc remarked. "They've never been afraid to show that off."

"True." Nate turned his attention to his partner. "After we report our success to the Elder, we should go back to HQ."

"You think they'll keep tabs on us?"

"They'll probably want some method of keeping tabs on us. I'll talk to Danse about it. He seems more likely to be amicable to us doing our own thing than Maxson will." He said the Elder's name with distaste.

"Wow. You really don't like that guy, huh?"

"One of my closest friends, the first friend I made out here, is a synth. So introducing yourself to me with a speech about how synths are the cancer of the Commonwealth is not a way to get on my good side."

"Mm." A thought occurred to MacCready, and he smiled. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I met a kid called Maxson back in my Little Lamplight days. He was with the Brotherhood troop that came for 'negotiations'. I think they thought if they sent a kid they'd have a better chance of getting on with us. Most pathetic kid I think I'd ever met. Looked like he'd be more comfortable at home playing with his toys than being an ambassador for his cause. 'Course, the knights seemed to treat him like some sort of prince. Basically pushed him to be in charge, even though he obviously didn't want to. Wouldn't it be funny if it turned out to be the same guy?"

Nate snorted a laugh. "Yeah. I bet that huge coat is him compensating for something."

MacCready laughed, but before they could continue, Danse waved them over. They replaced their helmets, and obeyed.

"Moving out. Be ready to go."

"Yes, sir."

Back aboard the Prydwen, they returned their power armour to their stations, and went to report their success. Danse seemed to ooze pride as they stood before the Elder, much to both Nate and MacCready's amusement. He told Maxson that his protégés' first mission had been a complete success, and complimented the pair of them on excellent combat skill. Maxson, too, praised them for their service, and they responded with a formal salute alongside their thanks- something Nate had told MacCready was proper procedure. Afterwards, Nate stuck to his plan, pulling Danse aside to discuss their leaving. As they did so, MacCready was left with nothing to do. He ordered a beer at the canteen bar, realising how thirsty he was after walking around in that suit for hours. He found a seat, and watched Nate, waiting for the go-ahead.

"Impressive scar your friend's got." One of the other crew members- a scribe, judging by his uniform- commented. MacCready snorted.

"You don't know the half of it."

"You seen the Elder's? I heard he went one-on-one with a deathclaw."

"Oh really?" He smirked. Nate would find that amusing. "Nate actually saved my life getting that. We were by the coast- you know the lighthouse? Yeah, a couple deathclaws managed to get the drop on us, and, well, we can't outrun those things. So he decides to be all noble and self-sacrificing. Managed to kill one of them before the second took him down. Fortunately I managed to finish it off. He scared me though." His expression grew sombre. "A scar like that doesn't show up easily." He found himself staring at his boyfriend and snapped out of it, tearing his eyes away and glancing at the scribe, who was regarding at him with incredulity.

"He took on two deathclaws? Alone?"

"Well, not quite. And they did nearly kill him."

"Still." The scribe whistled. At that point, Nate looked over, and beckoned for MacCready to join him.

"See you, I guess." MacCready told him, and then ran over.

"You making a friend?" The redhead asked him as he approached.

"I don't know. He just started chatting to me. Seemed friendly enough."

"Fair enough."

"So what's the verdict then? Can we go home?"

"Yeah." Nate smiled. "Danse gave me a communications device so they can call us in when necessary. Otherwise we can pretty much do what we like."

"Good. Let's get out of here then."

As soon as they were out of sight of the Prydwen and the soldiers that roamed its base, they changed back into their own clothes and made their way back to HQ. Nate was eager to see everyone, to tell them everything that had happened, and to see what the latest on their Institute project was. MacCready couldn't help but notice that Nate had really taken to the Railroad; despite how antsy he got when he was stuck there because of his injury, he seemed to really like the people and take pride in the work he did with them. It supported what MacCready believed about his need to make a change in the world, and he was grateful that Nate had found an outlet for that. And, well, whilst he hadn't necessarily been a fan to start with, he couldn't deny that he had a soft spot for them as well. Especially Deacon. After a rocky start, he felt like he'd gotten to know the enigmatic man a little better, and he respected him for what he believed in. So when they arrived on the steps of the Old North Church, it did feel a little like coming home.

Still, there was that looming threat. With Nate's rehabilitation, and their being back in the field, that meant they were getting ever closer to the goal that, when MacCready had first heard about it, had thought was certainly impossible, or if it was possible, completely suicidal. And here they were, with the teleporter that would supposedly get him in there being built, and the plans laid out ready. It was… Well, it was terrifying. He supposed it was unavoidable, though. At this point, all he could do was help out wherever possible, and hope.

Hope had never been something he was good at.