Things were beginning to wind down in Rivet City with the setting sun. Shops were closing up in the marketplace and Gary was offering the uneaten lurkcakes of the day to James, C.J. and Bryan, so they didn't go to waste. Doctor Preston was chatting it up with Seagrave, though it was in a whispering manner. Perhaps it had something to do with Seagrave's health, not wanting anyone near to hear because of confidentiality.

The Cantelli's were arguing down at the Quick Fix, another heated discussion about how Paulie wanted to help out around the stall and how Cindy didn't trust him enough. Harkness was just about to take a step in that direction, determined to defuse the situation(as always) when Lana appeared at his side, "They've been trying to work things out lately." She lowly commented, eyes fixed on the blossoming scene, though her body language had her turned to the open fire in a barrel drum. Of course Harkness didn't need her to tell him this, he knew. He knew about everything in the ship, from the little scuffle Bryan and James had last week up on the baseball diamond that resulted in an even bigger scuffle between Vera and Tammy, to the troubles Brock's been having with keeping Ted Strayer out of the Muddy Rudder when Belle has already cut him off.

"I know." Was his simple reply instead. Lana liked to think she was more in the know than he, but Harkness didn't want to rain on her parade. There was a reason he was Chief. "I just don't want them to 'work it out' in public." He didn't necessarily use a grumbled tone, but it was clear to Lana he was quickly growing annoyed. So, with a soft smile, she left her position next to the Chief and quickly got between the feuding spouses.

The slight tension inside him settled at the sight of Lana preforming the task he hadn't been looking forward to. If he'd gone over there, odds were Paulie would put hands on him, want to brawl a bit, and Harkness would have to knock him on his face. That's how he could tell he'd been using. Anyone else would know better than to stand up to Harkness. With Lana, Paulie was like putty in her hands. He somewhat envied it…

"Harkness…" Bannon was suddenly beckoning Harkness over with a waving hand. He obliged the fellow council member and was soon standing in his stall, looking over the newer outfits he had accumulated. A scavenger had come by not too long ago with some nice looking business suits, and by nice, he meant they weren't entirely covered in dust and didn't have as many holes in the sleeves and armpit like the others.

"What's got you bugging me." Harkness joked as he put weight on one foot as he leaned in his stance, arms crossed over his armored chest. Bannon chuckled, "Well it's actually important. At the next council meeting there are a few points I want to bring up…" somewhere in between Bannon's ranting about the drinking water conditions, (Which Harkness didn't need his input about, he got enough complaints as is.) and his whining about allowing one of the empty rooms in the lower deck be filled with Muddy Rudder equipment, Harkness stopped listening. They were the same points Bannon tried to bring up time after time after time, again and again. Harkness has already told him to lay off it. These were subjects that couldn't be helped. Harkness couldn't make their water better and Harkness couldn't help that the Muddy Rudder went through chairs and booze like toilet paper.

With a politely risen hand, he interrupted Bannon after he couldn't take it anymore, "Bannon, for one, you know there is absolutely nothing I can do about the water situation. So please, stop bringing it up." His voice had taken on a sort of annoyed tone, his eyes squinting as he stared at the Potomac Attire shop owner. "Second, you know for a fact that the Muddy Rudder racks in more cash than all these shops combined, so giving Belle the storage room was necessary." Bannon gave a huff, and Harkness saw the argument forming on his lips-

But behind him, the door to the market place burst open, the sound of metal banging against metal vibrating through the entire room, gaining everyone's attention. One of his security guards who had been posted right outside the door came stumbling in, "Chief! I need Preston! He collapsed half way down the bridge…" Draped over the young officer's shoulder was a boy, maybe just a few years younger than the guard was, blood dripping from his waist and arms, his dark locks matted on his forehead in a clump. He looked like he'd been walking for God knows how long. Dust and dirt were caked on just as equally over his black leather jacket.

The doctor was suddenly rushing past him, sprinting up the stairs and quickly taking the boy from him. Harkness sighed, knowing the doctor would never be able to manage more than C.J. Harkness didn't remember when he started after him, but he was suddenly right beside the doctor, having noticed Preston's slight struggle with the boy's weight, Harkness wordlessly scooped him out of his arms and gently maneuvered the stranger onto his shoulders, cradling his legs around his waist.

After regaining a bit of breath Preston gave an acknowledging nod and they were soon heading out of the marketplace and to Doctor Preston's office. Harkness could feel the steady breath the boy was taking against his back, the way he gently quivered and shook. His hands were limp and flailing as they dangled around his neck. He wondered just what this boy had gotten into out there, by himself.

Preston was quick to reach into drawers and pull out tubes, needles and meds, setting them out neatly on a clean table, "Set the boy here." He instructed, and Harkness obeyed, laying him down with a bit of awkward maneuvering, to keep from hurting him further, and he slumped on the table with an incoherent groan and mumble. Now, in the clinical brightness of Preston's office, Harkness could clearly see the extent of the boy's injures.

"Holy shit…" he mumbled. There was a gash that ran from one side of his abdomen to the other in a slant, just barely missing slashing into that leather jacket of his. The Kid had a tough look about him though, as if this wasn't the worst he's been through. Even in his unconscious state, his brows were slightly knit in what looked to be frustration. The gash didn't look too deep thankfully. He'd say the stranger was lucky, but with the way things were looking…

Suddenly, the blue jumpsuit that was slashed in the waist and peeked out underneath his jacket and shielded his legs sprang to his attention. "Preston, does that look like a vault suit to you?"

The doctor paused, glancing over to examine him. "Huh…" he adjusted his glasses further up on his nose, perplexed, "It sure does." He looked to Harkness, the question plain on his face before he could even form it in his mouth, so he answered, "I was thinking the same thing. Check his back."

The doctor made a face, "Maybe later, when his condition is more stable. I'd rather not move him around too much, or too often." With that he went back to his cabinets.

Harkness sighed, though he understood. It had been awhile sense the last time he saw a vault dweller turned wasteland survivalist. "Can he be helped, Preston?" he turned and looked at the doctor who was steadily pulling out purified bottles of water and sterilized tools, "Im not sure yet. He looks severely dehydrated and exhausted." He paused in pulling out what looked to be refrigerated blood packs, taking a glance at the boy. With a more grave tone he continued, "Not to mention all the blood loss. You're going to have to let me work." And with a directing glance to his door Harkness got the clue and nodded, "Report to me on any news." He started for the door.

"I'm not one of your guards, but you'll be the first." Preston mumbled. Harkness only smirked, knowing he meant nothing by it and continued out, shutting the door behind him. He was on his way back to the marketplace when he felt something wet run down his arm from off his armor plating.

It was blood.

His lips formed a taut line as he decidedly changed directions, and started down the hall to his quarters to change. He could already hear Lana barking at him for coming out there like that in front of the children. It brought a smirk to his face.

As he rummaged through his locker's contents some moments later, his mind started processing the possibilities, the ones involving that mysterious dark haired boy and his sudden appearance. It was the right thing to do, helping the kid like this, but of course, the negative possibilities surfaced as well.

What if he had been on the run, and who ever had been chasing him was lead here? What if this was some clever ploy he was pulling, wanting to gain entrance without question and be trusted only to later slaughter all the civilians?

He suddenly heard his own thoughts and shook his head disapprovingly. Of course none of that was true, the poor boy must have been on his way here when he was jumped by raiders or maybe a Mirelurk.

If it had been a Muttie, he wouldn't even be here right now. They'd hold him captive even if he was slowly bleeding out. The thought made Harkness clench his shirt a little tighter as he tugged it off. Before he came along, before he was voted as security chief of Rivet City, the Mutants had made off with one too many civilians to never be seen again.

And besides, the kid was from a vault, he couldn't possibly be that much trouble.

As he pulled out a rag to scrub down his bloody armor he also pulled out his small bottle of whisky. He sat on his cot and began to wash away the kid's blood, a small grimace on his face. This was a lot of blood. He plucked up his bottle and uncapped it to take a small swig. In moments like these, where all he needed to do was steadily wipe down a surface, his mind went blank and he could focus on the task, and do it with thoroughness. But for some reason, this time his mind wandered. Just images, flashes of a blue and bloodied jumpsuit, black muddy boots. The soft looking leather of a black jacket. And then he could feel the warmth on his back, the breathing that fluttered in the lungs of an aching body.

He sighed, setting aside his rag, figuring he had done enough. He needed to get up and moving before his restless mind wandered anymore.

Harkness walked with purpose down the halls, heading to the bridge for his watch. He'd be relieving the guard that had brought in the boy. Even though he tried to stop the ruminations, he had a couple questions for the guard.

Turning the metal gears of the door created a resonating sound throughout the ship, no doubt alerting anyone near. He greeted the guard with an acknowledging nod, sealing the door behind him. "Before you go, Reeves…" he came up to the guard, crossing his arms as he looked out over the bridge.

"Can you tell me anything about the kid? Did he say anything, do anything-" "Yea, yea, actually he did." Reeves interrupted with the sudden remembrance of a clue. "When I picked him up off the bridge he asked if he made it to Rivet City. I told'em he did and he just passed out." He concluded, even pointing to the spot where it had occurred on the bridge.

Harkness nodded. So he'd been coming to Rivet City for a reason. That was somehow a little more reassuring.

"Alright, you're relieved." He told Reeves, unhooking his gun from his back to lean against the ship's wall. Reeves saluted him before he walked off, headed for the mid-ship deck. Reeves was relatively new, so his impolite interruption could be excused. For the moment.

Harkness settled into a lean against the ship, watching out over the wastes, eyes scanning decrepit landscape for trouble. Though his efforts were basically useless, there hadn't been any threats ever since a month after he started, he still kept a watchful eye out. Really, if he didn't have this he didn't know what he'd have.

The marketplace door opened and Harkness didn't have to glance over to know it was Lana. She carried out two nuka-colas for the both of them each night during his watch, when she was skipping out on paper work. He'd always scold her, but the scoldings never stuck so he stopped.

"Who're these from?" he asked, a hand already outstretched to receive the drink from her. Cool glass connected to warm skin as it was slid into his palm, "Cindy. Just a little 'thank you'." She told the Chief, already uncapping it with her bare hand, depositing the cap into a pocket. That's one of Lana's traits he admired most about her. Lana liked her lip sticks and spring dresses, but she was tough as nails and wouldn't let anyone forget it.

One of the deciding factors in making her his second in command.

That, and her father had been very persuasive.

It was a few minutes of silence later that she spoke up again, "The last time we had a vaultie here she brought an orphan with her." She recalled, and Harkness was reminded of the small looking boy who seemed afraid of him, afraid of the ship and its metal walls with all its creaks and groans in the middle of a silent night.

That boy was different now, he thrived here unlike the place he'd been taken from. He heard Grayditch had been infested with ants, except they'd been so mutated that they spit fire. He frowned at the thought. Poor kid was held up in a heat box while the vaultie got to the bottom of it. He was such a polite kid, his father taught him well. Always thanked Lana with a "Yes ma'am." And would salute Harkness whenever they passed.

It made him chuckle.

Lana glanced over to him, tipping her cola back for a drink, she grinned as well, "The time before that, she pulled Pinkerton from out of the dark."

It was true. Before the 101 girl made her first appearance, many people had thought Pinkerton was either dead or nowhere to be found. Of course no one bothered to ask old Belle Bonny. All except the perceptive Lone Wanderer. Pinkerton was now a little more sociable, though he mostly stuck to himself over in the broken bow. He and Preston would get together sometimes to discuss things, trade research findings.

"How long has it been since we last saw Diana?" Lana asked because she knew Harkness could tell her exactly how long it had been, right to the second. Not because he'd been counting, he just had this natural sense of time, and its passing.

"Two weeks. She stopped for the night, said she was on her way to the museum of history. She spoke with Angela, Bryan, Vera and Seagrave before she left." He knew because he'd been in the marketplace that morning when she departed. She'd waved to him, and he waved back.

Lana smirked, and he was sure she was about to say something else, possibly make another retort about his unusual remembering skills. But her eyes fell to his arm. He glanced down as well to see a drop of blood.

He'd missed a spot.

Soooo, I've fallen into one of my swiftly growing favorite pairings, taking a break from my usual l4d2 for a bit. At this point, I have the whole story planned out, but I don't have a set number of chapters. Expect more soon.

(BLD)