I own Gwen.

November 5th, 2287

Arthur Maxson stands tall as he stares out the window of the Prydwen. Below his brothers and sisters in arms begin their sweep through the Boston Airport, securing the facility for the Brotherhood of Steel. They had followed the strange energy readings in an attempt to continue their lofty goal. The trip had been quiet and uneventful. However, the peace would not last. Much like the distant storm brewing on the horizon, the winds of change will blow and bring about a terrible effect.

But these quiet musings are soon interrupted with the gentle cough and a stuttered voice. "E-Elder," a scribe called, "A wo-woman is here for y-you."

At this Maxson turns around, only to see a ghost standing behind the scribe. Her shortly cropped dark hair hangs longer on one side with the other shaved down to stubble. Various scars dance across her sun-kissed skin, with a deep one stretching from her ear to mouth. She looks up at him, her blue eyes piercing him, sticking him where he stands. She smiles and steps around the scribe, striding towards the Elder.

Stopping before the tall man, her smile grows as she stands on the tips of her toes to lightly ruffle Maxson's hair. At her touch, Arthur lets out a content sigh, shutting his eyes briefly. "It's good to see you again, Arthur," she says in a soft tone.

"You're late, Sentinel," he says after a moment. "You're ten years late reporting in for duty."

She smirks and gives him a wry look. "I've been a little busy."

"A little busy?!" He explodes with anger. Her eyes go wide and she stands up a little straighter was a bemused smile widens on her face. "When the Capitol Building collapsed, we thought you were dead. Damn it, Gwen, we had a funeral for you!" He spins away from her, pacing in a small, tight circle. "I mourned your loss; we all did." He stops pacing and glares at her. "And here you are, coming back like nothing happened, still wearing that stupid I-don't-give-a-shit smile."

"Do you want an award, Arthur?" Gwen says, still smirking at the raging Brotherhood leader. "A gold star for being such a good boy and crying over some waster?" All at once her smirk drops and a deadly serious look enters her eye. "War is dangerous, Maxson. Lives are lost in war. Friends are killed. Soldiers return maimed or dead. And even I, mutated into a fucking killing machine, would die in war." Silence engulfs them as even the Knights look on in interest. Maxson tears his eyes from her, choosing to stare at the metal floor, rather than into her eyes. He may be taller than her, he may be leaner and stronger, he may be the leader of the Brotherhood, but when Gwen as angry, she made him feel like he was a little boy playing at being a man.

Quietly, Gwen continued. "You mourn and you take that sadness and turn it into something productive. You do not have a pity party. You don't carry it with you for ten years, Maxson. You don't take it out on your men because you feel like shit, like you took it personally. Newsflash, the world does not revolve around you as much as your yes men tell you." With that she motions around her to all the Knights, the ship, and the Brotherhood below. "You may be older, Maxson, but you've still got a lot of growing up to do."

Maxson seethes with rage inside. How dare she do that! He is the Elder! He is the one that gets to rant and rave! But even as he rages away, a part of him agrees with her. He has been acting like an ass. And he did take her 'death' the hardest after Sarah. But even Sarah used it as a measure to push forward. To push harder and faster against the Enclave. She accomplished something while he cried and moped and did nothing.

So, when confronted with this he turns his back to Gwen and stares out the window. But with his back turned, he doesn't notice the slow smile or the quick nod from her. He only hears the low chuckle and the clearing of her throat. "I was out west, helping the Western Brotherhood make up with the NCR. The trip there and back took most of my time. I could tell you some stories over a drink sometime, Arthur." A beat. "Unless you'll have me scrub the latrines after my scolding of you."

A chuckle escapes from Maxson and he lets his shoulders drop as he turns back around to face her. "No. I won't have you scrub the latrines. You're too valuable for that. As for the scolding," he sighs and looks down for a moment before looking up into her eyes, even as the tips of his ears burn from embarrassment. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Gwen reaches up and smoothes down his hair from where she ruffled it. "Two things. Of course I'm right," she says half sarcastically with earns a small smirk from Maxson. "And don't say sorry to me. Say it to your men and show it through your actions. I'm only here to make you think, Arthur. And seeing you apologize for past bad behavior is showing that you get it. That's 80% of the battle right there. And I know you, Arthur. You don't say sorry for the sake of saying it. You mean it and you'll make good on it." A pause. "Unless you've changed drastically in the ten odd years I've been gone. If that's the case, I'll pull your pants down and spank you in front of your soldiers."

With the image that comes to mind, Maxson laughs loudly. It's an infectious thing that soon has Gwen laughing alongside him and even the Knights standing guard chuckle and stifle their laughs. After a moment it quiets again on the main deck, but this is a comfortable silence rather than a stifling one. Gwen looks him up and down and smiles, nodding her head. "We good?" She asks, offering him a fist to bump.

He bumps his fist with her and then grabs her wrist, pulling her closer to him. He ignores the wide eyed shocked expression and stares at her intently. "You are not dying on my watch. Not again. Clear?"

"What, you gonna kill me if I die on you, Arthur?" She asks sarcastically, having recovered from her shock at the forcefulness of Maxson.

"No," he grounds out. "It'll be you getting the spanking, not me." He means it jokingly, but with the whispered voice, the overbearing presence of him, his hand on her wrist and his breath in her ear, causes a blush to paint her cheeks as a naughty image flashes through her mind. She rolls her eyes skyward, and mutters under her breath before turning back to him with a smirk, the blush lingering on her face.

To his credit, Maxson pulls back and lets her go quickly as if he touched something too hot. Before he can apologize for a misunderstanding—even though a part of him wishes not to—she salutes him before marching out of the main deck. He watches her go, his mind swimming with new thoughts and strange ideas. Behind him, there is a flash and a clap of thunder as the storm picks up in earnest. Strange times have come to the commonwealth and the Brotherhood, but even stranger times for Maxson and the ghost of his past.