"Told ya he was fine." Rhys remarked as he made his way into the main lobby of the police station. Haylen was clutching Danse's helmet to her chest as he climbed out the back of the power armor. She let out an audible sigh of relief when he appeared from the metal exoskeleton unscathed.

"We were so worried." Haylen stated, handing the helmet back to Danse.

"You." Rhys corrected. "You were worried."

"We got the message on the HAM, but it came through garbled because of interference from the storm. I wanted to go look for you, but Grace never told us the name of the settlement she was taking you to, and we had no clue where to start."

"You had no clue." Rhys corrected, again. "I knew Top was ok and you'd be back as soon as the storm passed through."

"No you didn't." Haylen turned on Rhys. "You can play it off as cool as you please, but I remember you saying 'if he doesn't come back, how are we going to get word back home?'"

"Yeah, get word back to tell the Elder we had a key into the Institute."

"Uh-huh."

"Enough." Danse sighed, stretching out a kink in his back before tossing the duffle bag to the scribe. "Haylen, see what you can manage to rig together from this scrap. Rhys, take this down to the armor station in the basement, the left leg actuator is sticking again." Danse pointed his thumb behind him at the suit of armor.

"Yes, sir." Both subordinates echoed as they set out to do their work. Danse sat down at the front table to give himself a moment of respite. He had to smile at himself. For as much as he loved his work in the Brotherhood, there was a small part of him that was already starting to miss the simplicity of the vault. No synths to hunt, no subordinates to be responsible for, hot showers, and a comfortable bed that didn't have a tendency to lump in the middle. It was a soft life down in that vault; one he ultimately knew was too slow and easy for him. But it had been a nice little vacation to see how the other half lived. Grace was probably still there, sitting on that bed. It had smelled of her. He noticed it the first night he slept there. Her pillows held a sweet yet earthy smell of her hair. He would never admit it aloud, but he rather liked the smell of her engulfing him in her bed. It was a welcoming scent, a smell of home. Not that he had ever really had a home outside of his bedroll in Rivet City and a cot in the Brotherhood. But he liked the notion that he could have one and that it smelled faintly of Grace.

After a moment, Danse stood from the table and made his way upstairs to help Haylen piece together his scraps to try and get a long range transmitter working. She was sitting on the roof of the station, all of the salvage pulled from the bag and laid out before her.

"You got some good finds." She admitted once she heard the door open and close behind her. She didn't need to look at him to know Danse was the one that have come up to the roof. Rhys had his assignment, and fixing that actuator would most likely take all afternoon to work on. "It may take a couple of days, but I think I can make this work."

"I was hoping we could gerry rig something up to the HAM radio and boost the frequency."

"Could do." Haylen nodded. She was currently scrutinizing an old circuit board Alexis had thrown in for Danse. "Some of this stuff is in really good shape. Whoever fixed this stuff up could work wonders for the Brotherhood."

"Woman named Alexis. I bought all this off of her. She is a good friend of Grace's."

"So, where was this settlement of Grace's?"

"It was a vault, just south of the river by a couple miles."

"A vault? Was it the one Grace was from?"

"No. It was called 81." Danse confirmed. "I've never seen a place so clean. Their hydroponics lab was huge, and they have enough clean water to take a hot shower daily."

"Oh, that sounds amazing." Haylen sighed. She hadn't taken a real bath since they had showed up in the Commonwealth. Just a sponge bath every now and again with a can of purified water to stem the tide of body odor. The Brotherhood had enough clean water reserves that most members could take a full shower once a week. But daily? That was a luxury almost no one in the wastes had ever imagined could really happen. "Sounds like a great place to hole up during a rad storm." There was a twinge of jealousy in Haylen's voice, but Danse couldn't fault her for that.

"I worked the whole time." He admitted, picking up an old lightbulb and starting to pull the copper wiring out of the bulb.

"Figures." Haylen remarked, sarcastically. "What did they have you do? Scrape rust off the door?" She laughed.

"Yes, actually." He laughed. "There was a ruined section of the vault…" Danse regaled Haylen with the tale of the Vault-Tec mole rats and Grace's heroics, saving Austin - but not before he lost his leg - finding a cure for him, helping Bobby get clean, the project to expand the vault into the ruins, the vault residences' near hero worship of her.

"She sounds like quite a woman." Haylen replied once he had finished.

"Yeah." Danse sighed. Grace's playful smile in his mind. "She's something alright."

"You know, someone like that, who has respect and a reputation for doing good work, would be a great addition to the Brotherhood. I mean, I know she said she's not a fan of the military, but the Brotherhood has done a lot of good work, and I don't see DC falling apart in war and chaos."

"You weren't there ten years ago." Danse replied.

"Yeah…" Haylen replied, letting them fall into a comfortable silent as the two soldiers stripped down the salvage to basic parts and began making plans as to how to create a long-range transmitter from scrap. It was slow, but engaging work as they moved through the afternoon. By mid-evening, the pair had roughed out a basic idea of how they would get everything up in running in the next few days.

Five days was all it took to get everything hooked up. It had been fortuitous that Haylen had a soldering iron in her pack. To be honest, there wasn't much that Haylen hadn't packed when they set out for the Commonwealth months ago. Rhys had commented a couple times that he was surprised she hadn't tried to pack the entire Prydwen in her giant backpack.

"If Captain Kells would have let me try, I would have." She laughed it off. But she and Danse worked around the clock as they fit every wire and device together.

"Alright." Haylen sighed. "Lets see how well this goes." She walked over to the door, yelling down the stairs to Rhys. "Rhys, try broadcasting now." She yelled to him. A couple seconds of silence, then static, then nothing. "Damn. Maybe we need to -"

"Team Gladius, this is -" A static voice rang through the transmitter. "Come in, Team Gladius. This is Senior Scribe Bendis, do you read me?"

"Holy shit! It worked!" Haylen squealed with joy, hugging Danse and bouncing around in excitement. She grabbed the mic they had hooked into the transmitter, barely containing her joy as she spoke. "Scribe Bendis, this is Scribe Haylen, registration Hotel-November-1-1-8-Foxtrot-Sierra, do you read?"

"Good to hear from you Gladius." Bendis replied after a moment to verify Haylen's registration number. "Some of us were beginning to think you wouldn't be coming back."

"Came pretty close - "

"This is Paladin Danse, registration Delta-November-4-0-7-Papa. Team Gladius is requesting reinforcements to the Commonwealth." Danse stated, taking the mic from Haylen.

"Sir?" Haylen asked, surprised by the request. She had figured he would ask for extraction before asking for more people to be sent to the Commonwealth. Danse held up his hand to Haylen to quiet her.

"Scribe Bendis, did you hear me?"

"Yes, sir. It's just… Why?"

"Scribe Haylen has been picking up interesting readings and energy fluctuations that we believe are related to the Institute's activities here. I'm requesting back-up be sent to further investigate."

"The Institute?" Bendis asked, he honestly had no clue what the Institute was or what Danse was talking about.

"Inform Captain Kells or Elder Maxson that we believe we have found a way into the Institute." Danse replied.

"Elder… Elder Maxson, sir?" Bendis asked in disbelief. The fact that Danse was asking for two of the highest ranking members of the Brotherhood East Coast meant whatever the paladin was asking for went way above his pay grade. "I'll make sure he gets word, sir."

"Good. We need reinforcements soon. I've been able to resupply with a local settlement, but the Commonwealth is in a more dire situation than we originally believed. There is a local police force that tries to keep peace, but they are only maybe one hundred strong. And with the threat of the Institute and their synths, the Minutemen needs all of the help that they can get."

"The Minutemen, sir?" Bendis asked, trying to write down all that Danse was saying so that he could report it directly to Elder Maxson.

"It is what the police force call themselves. I have met their leader, their General. Suffice it to say that these Minutemen have a lot of the same goals in mind as the Brotherhood does, and I think they may accept the offer of our aid."

"Sir?" Haylen asked again, knowing full well that Grace would likely refuse any aid the Brotherhood offered. She herself had suggested trying to get Grace to join up, but Haylen knew it would never happen. What Danse was suggesting would likely piss Grace off before it would ever make her consider accepting their help.

"I will relay this information to Elder Maxson." Bendis replied once Danse finished speaking.

"I expect a reply within the hour, soldier." Danse demanded.

"Yes, sir."

The hour passed slowly as the three soldiers waited on the roof of the police station for a reply from D.C. They were all quiet, not even Haylen or Rhys could muster the energy to break the tension of waiting for word from command. Waiting had never been easy for either Rhys or Danse. They were men of action, needing to do something productive to know that they weren't wasting their time. But Haylen could sit for hours as she waited for an answer to come to her. It was a beneficial trait to have as a scribe. Patience was a virtue that so many out in the wastes lacked. Two hours passed before the transmitter crackled back to life.

"Squad Gladius, do you read?" Bendis' voice called over the radio.

"This is Paladin Danse." He replied as soon as Bendis finished his sentence.

"I have spoken with Elder Maxson -"

"Give me that." Another voice crackled through the radio. "Danse? It's Arthur. It's good to hear from you, Old Man." Arthur Maxson spoke into the mic. "I understand from Scribe Bendis that you have information on the Institute?"

"Yes, we do." Danse confirmed.

"You have a way in?"

"Had one." Rhys muttered, just barely audible, but Danse still shot him an angry look. Rhys was none too happy with Danse when he discovered the paladin had left Grace behind without securing that Courser chip she had told them about.

"Yes and no." Danse admitted.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I know of someone who has a way into the Institute. But, the situation is difficult here, Arthur. The woman who has the information, she's… Well, she's a bit of a hero here in the Commonwealth, and is the leader of what semblance of a police force there is here. I know she wouldn't be willing to part with the information without getting something in return. She deals in fair trades. And if we want her to give us something, we're going to have to make a deal."

"Reinforcements." Maxson stated, already putting Danse's plan together. "She gets aid to keep the peace, and we get a way to take down the Institute."

"Exactly." Danse nodded. "However, it gets a little more complicated than that."

"Really?" Maxson asked, not in the least surprised by this admission.

"She's not a fan of the military. But, I think if we come here with the purpose of solely keeping peace, she may change her mind."

Haylen and Rhys both looked to one another, unsure of Danse's plan. While they had had a very limited interaction with Grace, they both were very sure of her anti-military standing. She wouldn't just change her mind about the Brotherhood on a whim and a deal.

"Do you think it would work?" Maxson asked, also seemingly unsure of Danse's plan.

"We have to try, don't we?" Danse asked. "If she doesn't cooperate, then we improvise. Find our own way into the Institute."

"I'm trusting your judgement on this one, Old Man." Arthur replied. "Okay. You'll have your reinforcements in a few days."

"How many men are you sending?"

"As many as can fit on the Prydwen." Arthur chuckled.


Trekking through the Boston ruins was slow work for Deacon and Grace. They both thanked any lucky stars that Hangman's Alley was only an hour's walk from 81. Well, normally an hour's walk. Grace's slow pace pushed their arrival back to around noon before she collapsed into one of the cots offered up at the common house. Hangman's was a perfect little trading hub for the caravans that worked through the ruins. Only a few minute's from Diamond City and was always open for market days from farmers both under Minutemen protection or not. Diamond City only opened it's market to farmers once a season, thinking farmers would be able to bring in a larger haul once every three months instead of whenever they had the produce to sell. What the Diamond City folks failed to realize was the crops worked on their own schedule, not man's. If there was food to be harvested, it needed to be harvested or go to waste. And many of the smaller farms couldn't harvest and keep their produce long enough to work on Diamond City's schedule. Any surplus needed to be sold quickly or else it would go to rot and be of no use to anyone. Grace had a few farmers that knew the finer points of composting, and tried to get them into Hangman's as much as possible so they could teach others handy little tips and tricks to get a compost heap started. If they could compost what would have gone to rot, at least it wasn't going to waste.

Market day was in full swing when Grace and Deacon made it through Hangman's front gate. Farmers and traders were barking out their wares to anyone that would listen, a livestock auction was going on in the back alleyway, and a general trader was holed up in a makeshift booth, trading for any non-perishable goods anyone had to offer. The noise and activity reminded Grace of walking through the open air bazaars she had visited before the war. People living out their lives, working to sell off whatever would go for a decent profit. She had to smile as she limped through the market to the common house where any traveller could grab a bed for a modest amount of caps. Delilah, the woman who ran the hostel had told Grace she could stay for free, that Hangman's would exist if it hadn't been for her, but Grace refused. She always paid her 10 caps, just like anyone else. But, Delilah always made sure that Grace got a private room if she stayed the night, instead of one of the bunks in the dormitory. She rested in the private room for most of the afternoon, the dull, throbbing pain in her side made her want to sit down and never move again.

After her allotted two days, and hearing no news of interest from Hawthorne coming out of Diamond City, the pair moved on to Goodneighbor. They were nearly a week past their appointment with Doctor Amari and Tinker Tom, but Grace knew both of them would still be waiting there. The Doc and Tinker knew Grace and Deacon had to plan according to the 'Wealth's schedule, which was unpredictable on the best of days. And a two week delay, while annoying, was nothing compared to some of the shit they had to put up with out there.

The journey to Goodneighbor was much easier than Grace was expecting. The meds Doctor Forsythe had given her worked surprisingly well, despite the fact they were no Med-x. Grace worried every now and again about that nagging want of a hit, but she kept her head as they moved through the ruins. They made good time as they moved, getting to Goodneighbor by nightfall three days after leaving the vault.

"Home sweet garbage." Deacon sighed upon entering the neighborhood. "Should we let Hancock know we're here, or just get down to brass tacks?"

"Memory Den. He'll hear from someone that we're here." Grace responded, making her way down the garbage laden alleyways to the Memory Den.

"Evening, Ma'am." A couple of the neighborhood watch greeted them as they walked through the streets. Most people ignored them, like in the vault, Grace was a common sight. The regulars that littered Goodneighbor's rundown streets knew her and knew enough to leave her alone. She was a friend of Hancock's - rumor even swirled about that they had had many a romantic tryst while high as fucking kites. No one mentioned the rumors in front of either Hancock or Grace. The drifters didn't want to get shanked. And Hancock would surely stab them for either talking about his lady love or dishonoring her name. He had killed Finn on Grace's first day in Goodneighbor simply because he disrespected her. God only knew what he'd do to someone now that she was his friend. Anyone who had been in Goodneighbor long knew the pretty, clean blonde was untouchable. Even Murowski had sense enough to back off after Grace blew his chem smuggling business to hell. Anything and everything else in Goodneighbor was fair game, but touching one of Hancock's playthings was cause to get you in a world of pain.

Deacon held the door open for Grace as they made their way into the Memory Den. Kent's old radio plays could be heard gently wafting through the large theatre from his little living space. Grace liked Kent. He was a kindly little man, and she enjoyed spending time with him, reminiscing about the time before the bombs dropped. He was a good man.

"Hello, Dear." Irma greeted from her chaise lounge.

"Irma." Grace nodded. "I'm a little late for my appointment."

"It's all good." Irma smiled. "Doctor Amari is waiting downstairs for your session."

"Thanks." Grace walked passed the older blonde woman. Deacon said nothing as he passed. He had come to the Memory Den on many an occasion, not always with the same face. She knew of his affiliations, but it was an unwritten rule in the Memory Den to let the Railroad's business stay under wraps. Hancock turned a blind eye to their goings on, and with Amari doing so much work for them, he was glad she had a front room attendant that knew how to keep her mouth shut. Of course, that went for the other patrons to the Den as well. Lots of personal memories that could be seen, and Deacon had never heard of one leaving the Den's walls. Whatever non-disclosure agreement Irma had signed was apparently air tight.

"Doc." Grace greeted Amari as she walked into the basement work room.

"Evening." She replied. "I was starting to get worried."

"Rad storm." Grace shrugged.

"Tinker just left to get dinner from the 3rd Rail." Amari stretched, standing from the terminal she had been working at. Grace hadn't been down in the basement since she and Deacon started the process to smuggle H2-22 out of the Commonwealth. He was up in Maine now. Grace made sure she got him somewhere there that didn't have a large synth presence. H2 had been so scared and nervous when Stockton handed him off to her. She could sympathize; suddenly being taken away from a clean, safe world and thrown into a world of absolute chaos had been terrifying for Grace too.

"We'll wait." Grace sat down in the lounger. Tinker Tom eventually showed up and set to work decoding the chip. It took him two days to get through all the code and debug the damn thing, but he was able to work through it. Grace had the feeling he didn't sleep at all while he worked on it.

"Man, tell you what." Tinker Tom said after announcing he got through it all. "These Institute suits know how to code."

"Yeah, we figured as much, Tom."

"I mean, its all very complicated stuff, but the simplicity of the design is impressive."

"And? Can you get us in to the Institute?"

"Yeah, I think we can do."

"Oh, I could kiss you, Tom!" Grace exclaimed, wrapping him into a hug and kissing his temples.

"Problem. It's gonna take a lotta juice to get us in there. Juice I ain't got." Tinker stated after Grace let him go.

"What?" Deacon asked.

"We'd need to build a signal interceptor to get you in there. Imma need a reflector platform, relay dish, a beam emitter, a big-ass console to run it, and enough power to light up half of Boston, but once you get those, piece of snack cake." He shrugged.

"And where can get those… things?" Grace asked.

"Dunno. Probably need to build 'em, seeing as I just made 'em up."

"Can you build them?" Grace asked, starting to get annoyed by Tom adding more and more things that could go wrong with the plan.

"Yeah. We'd need some special junk to make 'em work, but yeah."

"What kind of special junk?"

Uh… Sensor modules, biometric scanner, a military-grade circuit board, a crap ton of wiring and non-military circuitry."

"Do you think Sturges would have some of that stuff?" Deacon asked, sensing Grace's growing frustration.

"Maybe some sensor modules or a scanner, but… Shit." Grace huffed and turned from the group of people. She was trying to think of any place that would have those items.

"We can make this work, Boss." Deacon reassured her, gently massaging her shoulder. "We can do this. We'll find something and make it work, okay? We're not giving up now."

Grace pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to muddle her way through thinking of what she needed to do.

"You know who would have those things?" Grace whispered to Deacon.

"No. Grace, no." Deacon shook his head, already two steps ahead of her. "We cannot ask Chuckles and his crew for anything. They are not good people."

"Deacon, what other options do we have?" Grace pleaded. "I'm so damn close to getting Shaun back. I can't… I can't let another obstacle stand in the way. I'd sell my soul if it meant I could get into that place and find my son."

"Please," Deacon begged. "We will find what we need, without the Brotherhood's help. Nothing good will come of bringing them down on the Commonwealth, I know it. Please. We can go to Sturges, he's bound to know where we can find those things, he'll help."

"I just want Shaun back." Grace sighed, tears brimming on the edges of her eyes.

"We'll get him back." Deacon promised. "Just not with the Brotherhood's help."

"Okay." Grace relented. "But, I reserve the right to reach out to them if Sturges can't help us."

"Fine. But he will." Deacon assured her, kissing the top of Grace's head before walking back to watch Tom plot out designed.