Paladin Danse stepped out of the gym locker room first, but Elder Arthur Maxson was only two steps behind him. Their conversation had lulled as they gathered their gear to leave which was what gave Danse just enough time to put his hand to Maxson's chest and stop him in his tracks.

Without turning to his long time friend, Danse whispered with a lopsided grin, "Shh shh. Watch this."

Danse ducked his head and peered through the equipment racks as Maxson stepped up beside him and did the same.

"Isn't that our newest Knight?" Maxson asked softly, only to have Danse shush him once more. Maxson glared at him again and stepped a little closer to the rack, lifting his chin to peer over a bar that blocked his field of view.

Knight Grace Arlen was sitting on one of the benches, her hair pulled back in ponytail, strapping red ankle weights to her slim legs. Danse and Maxson both knew nearly every piece of equipment in the small gym and they both knew what the red weights meant. Three pounds of lead shot now strapped to each leg of the shortest knight on the Prydwen.

Maxson glanced at Danse, a joke on the tip of his tongue until he saw the way Danse was watching the diminutive blonde. It took a lot to impress Danse, and why he was staring at her with something akin to awe baffled the young Elder.

With a deepening frown Maxson turned his attention back to the small woman alone in the gym.

Now Grace picked up a set of sapping gloves, the twenty ounce ones, and had to wrap the bands double around her wrists for them to even hold in place. Her shoes and socks were gone, showing her small bare feet and the taped ankles that matched her taped hands.

"What the fuc-" Maxson breathed, scowling once again when Danse swatted at him distractedly.

"Watch," Danse barely breathed, grinning now and his eyes shining in a way that made Maxson even more curious.

At five feet even, Knight Arlen was already considered a joke by many of the other Knights and most of the initiates aboard the ship. Danse listened more than he spoke, so despite his large size and imposing demeanor he had a way of being overlooked in a crowded room if he so chose.

He sucked in a small surprised breath when the little blonde stood up and stripped off her fatigues, wearing a tee shirt and shorts underneath. He hadn't been expecting that. In the few times he'd noticed her down here, and stayed to watch, she had never done that before.

The shirt had to have belonged to one of the squires or she had cut it off. Either way, a smooth strip of tanned skin showed just beneath it, laying tautly over the small rises of muscle that made up her toned abdomen.

Grace rolled her head, loosening her neck, before rolling her shoulders backward then forward as she advanced on the same white canvas heavy bag he and Arthur had been hitting not 15 minutes ago. She wasn't even as tall as the mid-line of the bag, but that never slowed her onslaught.

And onslaught was exactly what Danse thought every time her saw her do this. Because Grace Arlen didn't hit the punching bag, she attacked it, not with just her hands either. The first thing she did was a forward round house kick that slammed the top of her right foot against the bag hard enough to make powder dust fly off in a small cloud.

Maxson turned to him, mouthing the word 'damn', before turning back with a grin that matched Danse's now. Grace spun again and her right heel connected to the heavy bag leaving a noticeable dent until her hands began to fly.

She hammered the bag with a staccato beat, never uttering a sound. Danse knew that would come later, but not yet. Not just yet.

You could never predict when her feet would hit, or her hands, she was moving so fast. Arthur had crossed one arm over his chest, his elbow resting on the back of his other hand, chin propped, watching her move. Danse surreptitiously shifted his weight from one hip to the other, trying to adjust himself without being too obvious about it.

After a steady twenty minutes of watching her fight the canvas bag he was fully erect. He would have been hard pressed to explain what exactly it was about Grace that fired his blood so much, but she did. Maybe it was everything about her.

He wasn't exactly surprised to notice Maxson tug the front of his own fatigues, obviously having the same problem Danse himself was trying to ignore.

"How long does she go at this pace?" Maxson asked his voice just audible under the smacks of force on canvas.

"I've seen her go for as little as 20 minutes or as long as 45," Danse sighed dreamily, still smiling.

"Fuck," Maxson said softly. "I'll jizz my shorts if she goes that long now."

"Oh," Danse chuckled knowingly, "Just wait. It gets better."

For another 10 minutes Grace battled the heavy bag silently, sweat dampening her yellow locks to brown as her hair plastered itself to her skull. Then it started.

"Grit your teeth," Danse warned Arthur with a soft chuckle as Grace's voice began to rise above the sound of her blows to the punching bag.

Almost instantly Arthur understood why Danse had warned him. Her voice when he had spoken to her the first time had been shy, almost timid and hard to hear, even with just the two of them alone on the command deck.

But now she sounded like an entirely different person. Her voice rose from small cries that sounded outright sexual to a viking shield-maiden's roar. She sounded like hell unleashed and he and Danse both groaned a response at the sound of it.

"Christ, she wrecks me," Danse said with low grunt, dropping his eyes to the floor and regaining his composure as much as he could.

"I think I see what you mean," Arthur nodded, having to softly clear his throat once to get the words out. "Is she like that in combat?"

"Sometimes. Depends on how hard the fight is." Danse looked back at her, still grinning, raging hard-on and all. "Sometimes she is so tiny and cute I just want to pick her up and tuck her in my power armor with me. Just to make sure she's safe and warm. Other times, I think she might well kick my ass if I tried it."

"It'd be fun to find out though," Arthur grinned, physically prodding Danse's shoulder with a fist.

"It could get me killed, but damn I'd go out with a smile." Danse chuckled back quietly.

"You want me to assign her to someone else so you're not bound by rules, regs, and honor?" Maxson asked in all seriousness.

"Hell No!" Danse muttered louder than he intended, wincing, but was relieved to see that Grace hadn't heard his voice. "I don't want any of these other bastards..." He trailed off as Grace came to the end of her heavy bag routine, roaring one last time before dropping to the floor in an exhausted heap.

"I'd rather just keep an eye on her myself, than let someone like Hawes or Donaldson 'mentor' her." The air quotes didn't express his real feelings so much as the sneer that peeled his lips back.

Arthur was about to say he wouldn't assign her to someone like that, but Danse spoke first.

"She'll hit the showers in a minute and we can head out," Danse explained, nodding toward Grace, who even now was pacing to slow her labored breathing and cooling down.

The door to the Gym swung open and two initiates Danse didn't immediately recognize walked in. He turned his attention back to Maxson, intent on saying something until he heard one of them speak.

"Paulson! Did you know they made power armor in kiddie sizes now?" a male voice laughed harshly.

"It's for little women who want to play at being soldiers, from what I hear," another snide male voice answered.

Maxon's face hardened instantly as he watched the two insubordinate initiates insulting the Knight.

Danse started to pivot on his heel and walk out there, but Arthur grabbed his arm, motioning for him to hold. Danse didn't like it, that was obvious, but what stopped Maxson was the sound of Grace's voice. Still breathless from her work out, but no where near the timid mouse he'd first heard.

"Then it should fit one or the other of you bleeding cunts, shouldn't it?" she said quickly, "I mean, you can not possibly be considered men when compared to other members of the Brotherhood, am I right?"

She stood just under chest high to the shortest one, but she still wore the heavy weights on both her hands and feet. She started to move then, lightly shifting and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Arthur and Danse had learned to box together at the Citadel years ago and had kept up the pastime ever since, so they both knew what good footwork looked like.

Danse turned back to Maxson, his index finger raised between them. "I'll bet you two bottles of your best bourbon that she can take them," Danse said with obvious pride.

"You're on, brother. She's spent. You saw her hit the floor when she ran out of stamina. What are you putting up?"

"My chess set," Danse said without flinching.

Arthur was surprised. Danse valued that set of hand carved pieces highly and he knew Maxson coveted them just as highly.

"We'll go out there the second she needs help," Arthur nodded quickly, shifting his eyes back to watch the scene unfolding in the middle of the gym floor.

"You want to see what a man looks like?" The taller one asked, grabbing his crotch lewdly. Both the Elder and the Paladin tensed at this. This was going too far.

"Sure, know where any are?" Grace fired back without hesitation, lifting her chin in defiance.

Danse was ready to forgo his beloved chess set at the sexual remark but Maxson stayed him once more.

"Wait, Danse. She's trying to prove that she can hold her on and not be cowed," he whispered as Danse started to move toward Grace.

When the taller one closed his fist around her throat, Arthur yanked his restraining hand from Danse's arm and they both bolted. It was a close race as to who rounded the end of the equipment rack first, but they both skidded to a stop a few feet past it.

They had moved fast, but neither one of them moved as fast as Grace.

The taller initiate with his hand on her throat suddenly found Grace going dead weight in his outstretched arm and she dropped to the floor, when he was unable to hold her up. She kicked savagely at his knee and even from their distance they heard it crunch sickeningly as it gave sideways, with him falling to the floor in a screaming heap.

The shorter one, now seeing what had happened to his friend, began to back away from Grace, still not noticing Elder Maxson and Paladin Danse a few yards away.

Grace bounded back to her feet and advanced on the young man slowly.

"Got something to say?" She hissed at him, tilting her head to one side as she slowly backed him into the wall. "You had plenty to say last night, didn't you? Last night you were the talkative one as I remember. What was it you said again? A mouth like that is only good for one thing? Wasn't that it?"

Then she struck, one rib shot after another with the heavy weight gloves until Danse called to her.

"Knight Arlen!" He barked, "Stand down!," When she didn't stop he sprinted to her and grabbed her arm in mid swing. Grace's pale blue eyes flicked up to meet his deep brown ones and for just a second there was no recognition.

"Knight Arlen!" He barked again, and this time she saw him for who he was.

Immediately she lowered her hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, breathing a quick. "Apologies, Paladin Danse," before falling silent.

Danse let go of her arm and glanced at Maxson who now stood beside him.

Arthur reached out and took her chin in his hand, lifting her head and turning it first right and then left. Danse saw the dark purple finger bruises all along her throat then, and her words to the shorter initiate sank into his mind. 'Last night' ... 'Last night'

"Knight Arlen?" he asked with a frown, "What happened last night?"

"We were just... just goofing around," the shaking young initiate, called Davies, said quickly. Volunteering information when Grace still didn't utter a sound.

Maxson and Danse both turned to face him.

"We were just having some fun, you know. Everyone on the ship calls her short shit, or... or.. something like it. It just got out of hand, that's all."

"Explain 'got out of hand', initiate," Maxson hissed at him.

The boy finally had the good sense to realize who he was speaking to.

"Elder Maxson, it was just a bit of hazing. That's all sir, I swear. I didn't touch her. It wasn't me." he was shaking in his shoes now.

Maxson stepped closer to the terrified young man, feeling his anger boil dangerously near the surface.

"Since when do initiates haze knights?" he asked in a dark and quiet tone.

"I.. I don't know, Elder Maxson, sir, there were just... some of us that thought Mighty Mouse... Arlen.. Knight Arlen, needed to understand how hard we all worked to get to where we are.. and.. and that just because she'd come from a vault somewhere doesn't make her any better than the rest of us."

Danse looked at Grace again, still she stood with her eyes on the floor and not a single word spoken. She may as well have been a mute.

He took her upper arm in his hand and walked her to the other side of the Gym, well out of earshot of anyone else.

"Look at me, Knight" he said gently. Grace raised her head, looking past him, but not at him. "No," he said even softer this time. "Look at me, Grace."

She finally did, her face as smooth as a china mask.

"What happened, soldier?"

"Nothing, sir." she replied with no emotion at all.

"How did you get the bruises on your neck?" Danse asked with a sick, uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"I don't recall, sir," she said evenly.

"Knight, I want to know what happened," Danse said again.

Maxson walked up and waited for Grace to reply, but still she said nothing.

"What happened, Knight?" Maxson inquired, stepping in front of Danse. He wasn't above using his status, or body language and even intimidation. He was determined to find out the truth.

"I don't recall, Elder Maxson." she said, her face deadpan once more.

Maxson turned to Danse. "I have Kells and security detail on their way to take," he pointed to one, "Paulson," then he pointed to the other, "and Davies into custody."

Maxson pivoted back to look at both of the young men.

"Apparently someone doesn't understand their rank in the Brotherhood, or how to respect their superiors," His voice was bitter and Danse almost pitied what the young men would have to endure as a lesson. Almost.

Insubordination was one thing Elder Maxson did not tolerate at all.

"Knight Arlen," he said sharply. Grace raised her eyes and looked past him, not at him, just like she did with Danse. He studied her face for a moment before saying,

"Paladin Danse, escort Knight Arlen to the command deck and wait for me there."

8