The civilian was quiet almost the entire way to the ArcJet Systems complex. She merely traversed beside Danse on their path while he tried to explain more about their recon work in the Commonwealth.

He looked over at her once and noticed her clutching her pistol tightly. Danse knew what fear in battle looked like, and he saw it in her eyes and in the sweat on her brow. She was from a Vault, so that did not surprise him.

This woman did not look battle-hardened in the least. Other than some barely visible bruising on her nose, her skin was smooth, and she was built very differently from people in the Commonwealth who lived on scraps of food and radioactive cans from before the war.

It made Danse wonder just how recently she had emerged from the Vault. Days, weeks, months? She seemed to have some competency with her weapon, though not a lot.

He could ask her, he supposed, but there was a mission at hand.

"If we take this road, we should be able to avoid the packs of ferals infesting Cambridge," he said, as he gestured with his laser rifle down the broken pavement road in front of them. "Try not to lag behind."

She quickened her pace beside him to keep up with his longer stride. "Have you had a lot of problems with ferals in this area?" she asked, then threw a nervous glance behind her.

Danse muffled his sigh. "Our mission here has been difficult. Since we arrived in the Commonwealth, we have been constantly under fire."

"I've had that problem too," she muttered under her breath.

"We lost four good men to this godforsaken wasteland," Danse said. "We've been a target from the moment we arrived. Despite our setbacks, I don't intend to give up and head home or go missing."

He heard her stop and look up at him. She was not tall, or short really, so she had to crane her neck slightly to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about your soldiers. I know that must be difficult to deal with."

Danse only narrowed his eyes initially in response because this woman had no motivation to express such sympathy for him. Why exactly did she feel the need to be so damn polite? People in the Commonwealth simply didn't act that way anymore, and it was unsettling.

Before he could question her about her suspicious behavior, he heard the rustle of metal beside them as a feral scrambled from the floor to its feet.

Addison immediately fired her weapon, and he raised his rife as he moved in front of her. To her credit, she did kill the one feral she'd targeted while he disposed of three others.

He dutifully checked the perimeter for further signs of hostiles, and finding none, he began to march forward again. Addison scurried after him while he looked past the highway at the sky. "It will be dark soon. We need to keep moving."

Danse's visibility in his power armor was always limited when it came to objects directly beside him, but he heard the click of her pistol as she reloaded it.

"You should not be so wasteful with your ammo," he remarked.

She did not say anything at first. "I know," she eventually admitted.

"If you're going to spray bullets, you need a different weapon," he said.

"I had a mini-gun once," she said. "But it was heavy, and I wanted to leave it at the settlement to defend against raiders."

They'd reached the top of the hill, and Danse could see a facility surrounded by a chain-link fence. He did not notice any outside security.

"That's it," Addison said. "I'm sure we will find what you need there. ArcJet Systems was building some sort of rocket before the war. A big one. It would have some pretty powerful transmission equipment, if it hasn't already been salvaged."

"Perhaps we'll have one shred of luck since coming to the Commonwealth," Danse replied. "Because we certainly haven't before this point." He checked his laser rife. "We'll enter through the front. Stay behind me. Facilities like this are often infested with ferals. Or worse, we'll run into synths."

As they got closer, Danse saw that the building was mostly intact on the outside—rusty, like most things in the Commonwealth, and covered in hanging moss. They walked to the door underneath the bright blue and red ArcJet sign, and Danse shoved open the door. It shuddered on its hinges before creaking open.

Danse ignored the destruction before them, though Addison seemed more entranced by it. Broken stairwells, papers and dust coating the ground—it was a beat-up reception area like many others he'd seen on his recon sweeps for the Brotherhood. He frowned slightly.

"It was corporations like these that put the last nail in the coffin of mankind," he said, and his voice echoed through the empty space. "They exploited technology for their own gains, pocketing the cash and ignoring the damage they'd done. General Atomics International. Clayton Industries. Robco."

She stepped over a pile of metal debris. "You can't complain about those companies without acknowledging that they're the only reason your power armor functions properly."

Danse turned on his heel to her. "And look at the catastrophic cost of their advancements. I'd gladly trade this armor to have put an end to their reign before the war. I just wasn't born soon enough."

He could not see her expression in the shadowy room, only the thin line of her mouth and the stubborn set of her jaw. Light filtered through the open spaces from the roof, but the sun was slowly setting around them.

"The lab should be this way," she said, then slipped past him into a room further back and to the left.

Danse followed her, his heavy footsteps echoing up the walls, louder because he was crushing metal debris under him. He stopped when he saw a room beside them that was barely lit. The floor was littered with parts from Protectrons.

"It appears as though the facility's automated security has already been dealt with," he said. "We should be careful. We're probably not alone."

"Who do you think did this?" she asked, brows knit low over her eyes.

He stepped further into the room. "I don't see any ammunition casings or blood." He tightened his grip on his rifle. "This is the Institute's handiwork. Synths. Be on alert, civilian."

"I already was," she replied. She stepped aside to let him march down the hall in front of her. Before delving deeper into the lab, Danse considered all his tactical options, one of which was leaving. He had not expected synths to be present. They were more dangerous than ferals, and this civilian seemed unequipped to handle them. Perhaps he could wait for more help to come along, or Haylen could find another way to boost their radio signal?

Those were not viable options. They were far too pressed for time and low on supplies to wait. This Addison Howard would have to do as his extra gun. For the time being.

Addison thought it was best not to tell Danse that she had never fought a synth before. Or seen a hostile one. The way he crinkled his nose at her technique told her that he was already not too happy with his choice to take her along to ArcJet.

Still, she was at least some help with the synths they encountered before the engine core room. She'd found a way past a few locked doors when his only suggestion was to break them down. However, he provided most of the fire support after that because around every corner there seemed to be synths just waiting to shoot at them.

They looked nothing like Nick. Retained no humanity like he did. They were metal skeletons with eyes and oddly mechanical voices. Addie began to understand why everyone in Diamond City feared them so much.

When they reached the engine core room, the power was out, but ArcJet's project from before the war was still visible: a massive rocket, half built. Addison craned her neck up.

"The transmitter is probably in the control room at the top."

Danse looked beside him at the elevator. "Power's out. We'll need to go down to see if we can restore it."

Addison began descending the metal steps leading to the ground. "There should be a maintenance area with backup power."

His footsteps made the balcony underneath them shake. "Find it quickly," he ordered. "I'll watch your back."

She only nodded to him, but did in fact find comfort in knowing someone with that much firepower was keeping an eye on her. He seemed trustworthy enough, despite his apparent predilection for spouting facts about the Brotherhood. Addison smiled politely at his efforts, as she was trained to do.

There was a terminal connected to the auxiliary power generator in the back. Addison accessed it and managed to break the code, despite the fact that she kept glancing over her shoulder, worried at the excessive silence from outside the window.

As soon as the power was restored, she heard footsteps clacking against the metal stairway, and then the sharp sound of laser rounds being fired. Addison rushed out into the main maintenance room and saw bright flashes of blue, interspersed with the red of Danse's rifle.

There were five, ten, then fifteen synths firing down at him. Addison gave a panicked gasp before her throat closed from the terror. She reached the cracked window over the control panel that allowed her to see where the rocket was.

"Danse!"

She scrambled for her pistol, but it slipped from her hands onto the mainframe in front of her. It clattered against some buttons, and she heard a voice echo through the chamber.

"Command accepted. Commencing five second countdown."

Addison jerked back, trying to find the source of the sound. What in God's name had she done?

"5…"

She looked back out the window. More synths had jumped down and cornered Danse. He'd reduced some to ash, but they kept coming.

"4…"

The engine core above him began to glow blue, and dread dropped like a rock in her gut. She'd triggered a test fire of the rocket, and if Danse didn't move, it would fry him.

"Danse!" she exclaimed again.

Addison rushed out of the room and into the hallway. She tried to call to him, but he could not hear her over the roar of the rifles all around him.

"Engine firing."

Addison hated it, but she had to retreat, run back to the maintenance room as the walls began to rattle and send dust everywhere. The sound of the rocket firing was deafening. A mass of energy left the nozzle and set everything aflame. The synths were reduced to ash in seconds.

Addison had to raise her hand to her eyes because of the brightness, but it was over a few moments later. Danse was crouched in his power armor in the corner, not moving.

She ran out of the maintenance room. "Danse!" she exclaimed, as she reached the area under the rocket. The stench of scorched metal was sharp in her nostrils.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?"

Danse stayed down, his breathing harsh in his helmet. "Got…cooked by the flames…" He lifted his head. "Thanks to my power armor I'm still in one piece."

"It was an accident," she sputtered. "I didn't mean to-,"

He staggered to a standing position. His armor looked mostly intact, if not burned black. The plates on his leg had popped off, leaving behind only the damaged frame.

"The important thing is we're still alive, and we have a way to get to the transmitter."

Her brow rose slightly—his dedication was certainly…commendable.

They took the elevator beside them up, and Addison could see that Danse was clearly in pain. The door opened to a room littered with more synth bodies. She let him stand off to the side as she combed the area.

The terminals had been mostly smashed or stripped for parts. She decided to search the synths—maybe they had come for some tech themselves.

"I think I found something," she said, as she retrieved a gadget clutched in the metal hand of a destroyed synth.

She held up a small cube to him—it looked like some sort of communicator in her limited expertise. Danse walked over to her, his face scrunched up in pain. It looked as if one of the synths had taken a shot at his leg.

"Outstanding," he said. "This will certainly help Scribe Haylen boost our radio strength. Let's take this elevator to the surface."

Addison hesitated. "Are you sure-,"

"Move out," he said, then smashed his fist into the elevator button.

They hardly fit in the small space together. He stayed as far to the back as possible while she huddled up in the front. Danse did not seem like the kind of person that liked to touch people, even in his armor.

The elevator opened up to a bunker on the surface. Visibility was low because it was completely dark out. Addison swallowed nervously at the prospect of venturing out at a time like this.

She hurried out first. "It looks clear from here," she said, but she was cut off when Danse made a strangled noise and staggered to one side.

"Are you okay?" she asked while taking two long strides over to him.

Addison ignored him because he only grunted in reply. She flipped on the flashlight of her Pip-Boy, and a greenish glow fell across the armor frame on his leg.

"You're bleeding," she said. "Badly."

"Damn synth clipped my leg…" he muttered under his breath.

"Why don't you let me look at it?" she suggested. "You can't walk like this."

"No," he said immediately. "I'll be fine."

Addison frowned at his stubbornness. "We have a long walk ahead of us. You-,"

Danse sharply exhaled. "I said no, civilian."

She shifted her stance instead of raising her voice. "Danse, I know you don't want to leave your armor, but if you don't let me assess the extent of the injury on your leg, there might be long term damage. Damage that affects your ability to complete further recon missions."

Danse peered down at her, his skin pale and sickly looking in the green light. His square jaw tightened under his stubble. "Fine," he ground out, and his arms dropped.

Addison smiled politely and stepped back. At least her words had some persuasive power, despite her lackluster skills in combat. "Thank you, Paladin. Now step out of that tin can."

He shuffled around to find an open space. "This is a highly-specialized piece of military-grade armor."

His chest piece hissed and then the pieces lifted open like a cocoon. Danse began to step out before he winced in pain. Addison reached forward to help him, straining under his weight and guiding him onto the ratty couch in the bunker.

Addison adjusted the lamplight on his helmet so it shined down on them. He was looking away from her—maybe nervous because he wasn't in his armor? All he wore underneath was an orange jumpsuit embroidered with what she assumed was the Brotherhood seal. He was tall and well-built, certainly.

His shin and the muscle of his calf was sticky with blood. She pulled out some bandages and a Stimpak from her bag.

"Are you trained in this sort of thing?" he asked.

"Not…exactly," she admitted. "Haylen will probably be more help, but there's no use in you bleeding out till we get to her."

Addison tossed him the Stimpak while she rolled up the part of his jumpsuit covering the wound. Danse rubbed his temple while she worked, but gave no indication that he was in pain.

"Our mission could have gone smoother," he said.

She unraveled the bandages. "I thought we worked alright together."

"Agreed," he replied. "It's refreshing to work with a civilian who can follow orders."

Addison looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Is that what you look for in a partner?"

"Yes," he said. "But you also kept your cool back there and handled what was thrown at us like a soldier. There's no doubt in my mind that you've got what it takes."

She stopped what she was doing and kept her eyes on her hands. "I'm…not much of a soldier."

"That doesn't mean you can't become one," he replied. "I see potential in you, and I'd like to make you a proposal." He leaned forward slightly. "I would like to offer you a place in our ranks. A chance to become a member of the Brotherhood of Steel."

Addison tucked the remaining edge of the bandages into the other layers she'd wrapped around his calf. "You want…" She shook her head—her only goal right now was supposed to be finding Shaun. She was getting distracted enough as it was. Joining this group might be no help at all.

"What would you expect of me?" she asked.

"You'd be under my command, and I'd expect you to follow orders," Danse explained. "You'd have access to advanced military weapons, as well as your own suit of power armor."

Addison cleared her throat and looked away. Enticing, to be sure. To have access to more than her pistol and the crudely made weapons she scrounged from raiders. She had no idea where Shaun was at this point, and the Brotherhood's expansive resources might be exactly what she needed to get to him. It felt…wrong to commit for that reason, but what choice did she have?

"Alright, Paladin," she said. "I'll join."

He did not smile, but sounded more excited nonetheless. "That's what I wanted to hear." He reached beside him. "I should compensate you for your assistance retrieving the transmitter as well. Here." He handed her his rifle. "It's my own personal modification of the standard Brotherhood Laser Rifle."

"Don't you need it?" Addison asked, as she took it in her hands. It was heavier than her pistol, and she had absolutely no idea how to use it.

"This isn't the only weapon at my disposal," he said. "Brotherhood soldiers always carry a backup."

She smiled at him. "Thank you very much, Paladin."

"You're…welcome, civilian," he said. "Though I will remind you to be stringent with your ammunition."

"I'll try," she replied, as she packed away the rest of her supplies. "Your leg will probably be okay for the time being. Haylen should look at it once you're back at the police station, though."

Danse stood when she moved out of the way and limped over to his armor. "I need to return immediately so we can begin work on the radio." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Do you wish to accompany me?"

Addison hesitated. "I have very urgent business in Diamond City, but I…" Her eyes slid to the window where the world was shrouded in complete darkness. "I don't like traveling at this time."

Night was not good for her, especially alone in the Commonwealth. When she ventured out, the area around her seemed too vast, the world too populated with dangerous creatures—God, she felt like such a wimp, but it terrified her to go out by herself in the darkness knowing the slew of things that could attack her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You probably regret offering me a place in the Brotherhood knowing I'm so…" She scrubbed the side of her face. "I'm just very unfamiliar with this environment."

"You never left the Vault before this?" Danse asked incredulously.

She looked up. "I couldn't-," Her words trailed off because it occurred to her that Danse, like many others, had no idea that she had lived here before the war. "I didn't, I meant."

He shook his head. "It's a shame that those who ran your Vault left you so unequipped to handle the world out here. Did they just set you loose with no guidance?"

"Sort of," Addison said. She lifted her bag to her shoulders, her other hand holding her new laser rifle. Her chest rose in a sigh.

"Listen, if we're going to be working together, you should know something."

Danse turned to face her. "Yes?"

Addison struggled to find the right words, her mouth opening a few seconds before any sound actually came out. "I—was technically in a Vault, but I was cryogenically frozen. When the bombs first fell."

His prominent brow arched in. "First fell? In 2077?"

"Yes."

Danse made a sound of disbelief. "You're telling me you were alive before the war? 200 years ago?" He shifted and put his hand against his temple before she could respond. "That's incredible. You must have a wealth of knowledge about pre-war technology."

"Er—I suppose," she admitted, which perhaps was a little further from the truth than he might like.

"Are there any more of you?" he asked.

Addison dropped her head. God, why did thinking about what happened to Nate never get any easier? Why did the simple mention of the Vault send her mind spiraling into the very depths of despair? Images of Shaun, of Nate, the loving family she had ripped from her, cycled through her mind, unabated no matter how much time passed.

"No," she said. "I was the…um, sole survivor." Her fingers fiddled with the cool metal of her wedding ring. She would not allow herself to cry, she knew that much.

"Well—I suppose my son survived, too," she added quickly. "He was…kidnapped. From the Vault. I don't know by whom, but that's why I need to return to Diamond City. A detective there is helping me find him."

"Your son?" Danse began. "I—You have my condolences."

"Thanks," she muttered, before she swallowed roughly. "Listen, I…how about I come with you to the police station? We'll be safer together, and it will put me closer to my destination."

"Good idea," he said—he sounded relived to be moving away from any sort of personal conversation. "Let's get going."

Danse jumped into his power armor, the pieces molding back over him before he flipped his helmet in his hands and secured it on his head. She had been surprised at how…normal he'd looked out of it. Addison decided it was best not to comment on that, though.

He led her out of the bunker, and they did not speak the entire trip back to the police station.