Arthur Maxson always considered himself to be a controlled and levelheaded man, but now he found himself frozen.

Never before had a new recruit taken him by surprise the way that she did. There was nothing outwardly special about her. She was slightly above average hight, her blue vault suit clinging to her modest breasts and wide hips, her groomed eyebrows and full lips told him she was attractive but it was her eyes that had him rooted to his place on the command deck. Her eyes that he knew had to be the lightest of blues but in the light of the setting sun as it reflected off the steel in the room they glowed a dusty silver. And in those silver eyes he could see the weight of his words being thought over and calculated.

As the room emptied he met her steeled gaze, "I care about them you know. The people of the Commonwealth."

She gave the softest of smiles "I can see that. They're playing with fire, and you wish to save them." Her voice was sharp and with an air of authority, but there was also a kindness there.

"Exactly." He turned from her to face the Commonwealth below. He leaned forward against the guard rail, knuckles turning white as he gripped at the steel. "I just hope we're here in time. I refuse to allow the mistakes of the past to be repeated."

There was silence between them for a moment. He watch her reflection in the window shift her weight from left to right before crossing her arms under her chest. She seemed to once again consider his words before making up her mind on the matter. His words did indeed carry a heavy weight for her. The pain of the past and this uncertain future always at the forefront of her mind. "How can I help?"

Maxson turned back to face the recruit, sizing her up as he clasped his hands behind his back. She didn't shift under his gaze like most but she didn't meet it either. "Your name recruit?"

"Maggie." She replied almost immediately, when she realized her mistake she cursed at herself and dropped her arms back to her side before straightening herself out and meeting his dark eyes, "Margaret Reese, sir. But I prefer Maggie."

"Noted." He said quickly with a sharp nod. "If you wish to help I want you to start by taking responsibility for this planet. To start making a difference. And from what I've read in Paladin Danse's reposts, you've already begun that journey. Seeing as he's one of my most respected field officers, you couldn't get a better recommendation."

Maggie dropping his gaze, once again shifting her weight as her cheeks tinted a soft pink, she had never been good at taking compliments. "Thank you sir, but I was really only following orders."

"Nevertheless," Maxson went on. "From this moment forward, I'm granting you the rank o Knight. And, befitting your title, we're granting you a suit of Power Armor to protect you on the field of battle. Wear it with pride."

Maggie's jaw fell open and her eyes grew wide at the news. After a moment she seemed to shake herself out of it but her voice still portrayed her shock, "I'll do my best to live up to it."

"I'm certain that you will." Maxson's tone was confident and final but left an unsaid threat that failure was not an option, and it lingered there around her. "In any event, take the rest of the evening to become familiar with the Prydwen and my staff. Report to the Flight Deck at 0600 for your new orders. Welcome aboard the Prydwen, Knight Reese. Make us proud."

He stood tall, placing his fist over his heart in salute. She returned the gesture with a soft smile, "You can count on me Elder."

. . .

The mission at Fort Strong had gone off without incident a few days ago. Knight Reese and Paladin Danse had removed the Mutant threat and taken hold of their Nuclear arms. Since then the Elder had had no further missions for her so she had taken to recovering tech for Scribe Haylen and escorting research teams for Proctor Quinlan. It felt good to be helping a cause but said cause was getting her nowhere in the search for her son.

As with most nights, thoughts of Shaun clouded her mind causing sleep to elude her. Unable to lay restlessly in her bunk any longer she grabbed her gifted Laser Rifle and made her way to the work bench nestled in the Power Armor repair bay. To help drown out her relentless thoughts of her son she tuned her Pip-boy to Diamond City Radio, keeping the volume low, to help distract her as she worked.

Screwdriver in hand she meticulously removed each screw from the casing and placed them head down on the table it a strict pattern to make sure each one went back into its proper place.

Maxson, too, found himself being kept awake by the weight he carried on his shoulders, as with most nights. And like most other nights he turned to wondering his ship alone in the stillness of the night. The Elder walked as any confident and well trained man would but inside his thoughts themselves were chaotic and unorganized. His mission and his duty to his men always lingering just below the surface of his being, his only reason to live and breathe.

He heard the soft melody of the Ink Spots before he even entered the repair bay, stopping for a moment to take in the heard but unfamiliar sounds of the song. Music was something he never had made time to appreciate.

When he finally made it through the mess hall to stand in the doorway of the repair stations he found himself surprised to see that anyone else was indeed still up at this hour, however he felt no shock that it would be her. It had taken him only seconds during there first meeting to know that she too held a great burden. Though their conversation had been brief and to the point they both knew there was more to the meeting then him welcoming a new recruit and her needing a place to call home in this savage and untamed world. Maggie was different then the others, but how?

She seemed to either be ignoring him or unaware of his presence as she worked. Whatever the case he took a moment to watch her as she leaded over the workbench. Her blue vault suit open and tide around her waist to expose a worn but clean white tank top, her lean arms leading to long, delicate fingers that held a lose grip on a red handled screwdriver as she worked with care and precision as she removed each part of her rifle and placed it with the upmost care onto the table top before her. Her light brows knit together and her lips pursed into a hard line in calculated focus as her grey eyes never wondered from their task, even as a few strands of her honey coloured hair fell loose from the bun atop her head and brushed flushed cheeks.

"Little late to be up at this hour, don't cha think Elder?" Maggie didn't bother to pause her task as she spoke. She didn't even glance in his direction. She had known he was there long before he entered the room, having heard his footsteps echo through the hull of the ship and he paced. In the few days she had been aboard the ship she had become accustom to his steadily even steps starting late into the night and echoing lightly around her in her bunk as she faked sleep around the other Knights. After the first night she had mentioned the footsteps to some of the other Knights during a meal in the mess hall in the hopes she wasn't losing her mind in the darkness of the ship. Their answers had been very vague and slightly entertaining to say the least, ranging from 'I've never noticed' to 'I've heard its the ghost of Roger Maxson watching over us'. Last night she found the answer herself, as she decided to raise early instead of waiting for the others to stir like she usually did, and caught him entering his quarters a few hours before sunrise.

Maxson was taken by surprise by her voice but managed to keep his poker face firm, "I could ask you the same thing, Knight." There was silence once again between them as they both refused to answer the unasked questions of their late night meeting. He kept his gaze fixed on her and she continued to ignore him as she worked. It wasn't until Maggie placed the last piece of her rifle on the table top that she looked up at him, or at least in his direction. She faced him but her eyes seemed unfocused as she spun the screwdriver between her pale fingers. "Aha!" she finally exclaimed, weaving the small hand tool into her hair as she stood and began to pace about the bay, collecting a number of items as she went. After a few moments she returned to the workbench with full arms and dumped the items haphazardly on and into the open tool chest beside the work station.

Troubles forgotten, Maxson found himself genuinely curious as to what the Knight was up to and before he realized it his feet were moving towards her. He stopped on the opposite side of the bench and watched as she began to meticulously clean each piece of the rifle, right down to the gaps between the threading of each screw.

The silence was thick between them but not uncomfortable. Her relaxed and laid back nature put him at ease some, most everyone aboard the ship grew tense and jumpy at having him even in the same room. It was a nice change. She noticed him slowly dropping his guard, his posture relaxing into a more natural stance then his normal stiff and ridged commanding role. She could sense he was troubled, her father having been very much the same way after a lifetime of serving in the American Army. Without meeting his gaze she leaned down and grabbed a rag off the bottom shelf of the work station before tossing it at her Commander's chest. He caught it easily, running his fingers over the splotchy red fabric as she could sense the air around him lace with confusion. Maggie returned the piece she had been cleaning to the table to selecting the next one nearest to her before she spoke, "I find keeping busy helps take my mind off things. Makes them easier to process."

Maxson stared at her for another long moment, this time unable to hide the shock from reaching his eye, as she continued to refuse to meet his gaze. This random and unknown wastelander was able to read him better then any other member of this faction before her and she hadn't even bothered meet his gaze since he entered the room. Well relatively unknown he mused for a moment. He had read over her field reports and her medical evaluation, but they told him little about the woman herself. He knew he blood type made her a universal donor, he knew she had little to no exposure to radiation during her lifetime, he knew she was four years his senior, but besides those few trivial pieces of information he knew nothing about her.

The Elder turned over her words in his mind for a few moments before sighing lightly to himself and placing the rag on the corner of the work station. Maggie finally looked up at him through her lashes but he failed to notice. She watched him slowly remove his thick jacket and drape it over the top of the nearest Power Armor work station before removing the stool from the armor work station and placing it across from her. He roughly pushed the sleeves of his dark flight suit up around his elbows as he sat on the stool across from her before retaking the rag in his hands and picking up the piece of her rifle nearest to him and beginning to clean it.

The Knight smiled to herself as she returned to her work, her small actions once again going unnoticed by the younger man before her. Once again she glanced up at her Commanding Officer through her lashes, eyeing him as he had her only moments before. His fingers were tense and callused as they gripped at the old mechanic rang and machinery parts, forearms the same natural lightly tanned colour of his face but peppered in faded scars and burn marks that told more stories then the man himself probably ever could with words. The muscles of his biceps and shoulders twitching with each movement under the stretched fabric of his black flight suit. Through his thick beard she could see the tension in his neck and set chin of his chiseled jaw. A jagged scar running up towards his eye over his right cheek was more defined then the others, showing it had most likely been poorly tended to in the heat of battle. His slicked back, dark hair had not been kept the same way by night as it was during the day, being swept more onto the side of his head then back now. His matching brows hiding his dark eyes that she knew where the deepest of blues, the opposite of Nate's light hazel eyes.

Maggie closed her eyes, shuddering at the thought of her now dead husband. 'He's gone. You don't need to think about him anymore.' She told herself, as she had been doing since the day the Vault door slid open and she was first greeted by the Hell of the wastes. Finally the unwanted memories passed and she opened her eyes again, only this time she found the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel looking back at her. For the first time that night she allowed his gaze to meet hers. After a moment she gave him a soft smile. Thankful to be back in the present, at least for the time being, even if it was with this tense, brooding and young commander.

After that moment fell into a comfortable silence, returning to their work. Neither feeling the need to address their woes to the other. Just two random souls allied against the darkness of their own minds within the dim lights of the ship. Maggie smiled to herself this time, thankful that the red handled screwdriver was not her only silent companion tonight.