AN. Again, I'm sorry for the wait. This is actually a guest chapter that scribblescribblescribble of Hiding in the Green fame wrote in correspondence with me. As such, this is in line with the story I had planned. Here we go.

In the Citadel's courtyard, Sentinel Lyons stood in full power armor, waiting. Outwardly calm, inside she was a house divided. There was the officer of the Brotherhood of Steel, who had to reprimand, publicly and openly, a fellow officer, her equal in rank but her junior in time served. She could do that, had done as much before, though rarely, and would do so again when she had to—but it had not been Alec. There was the conflict, because she was also his spouse. That part wanted to rail at him, to demand answers, to hear and empathize and heal, because she knew him and she knew he wouldn't have acted that way unless he was pushed beyond his limits.

But right at the moment, she had to be cold steel, all soldier, because there were guards all around. Everyone in the Citadel knew of their relationship—how could they not? If she acted any differently toward him than she would any other ranking officer, there would be mutterings in the rank and file about how some people could practically get away with murder because of who they were.

"Sentinel Taggart," she began, curt and clipped.

"Sentinel Lyons," he replied, and in his voice there was a hint of resignation.

"Reports have reached the Citadel of your misconduct in Megaton. You got into a heated argument with the Overseer of Vault 101. You used provoking terms and gestures toward her. You drew your firearm upon her, which presented a clear and present threat to her life, and then fired said firearm, which constitutes assault even though the citizen was unharmed. You did so in such a manner that it represented a breach of the peace, and throughout, your conduct was unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. All of these are court martial offenses within the Brotherhood of Steel. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I—no. I do not contest any of these charges against me," Alec said. He looked as though he had not slept.

"Do you demand a court martial trial, or will you accept the field judgement under article 15 as it is handed to you?"

"I will accept it," he said, wearily.

"Ordinarily each of these six offenses carries a punishment of fourteen days restriction and extra duties. However, since at the moment the Brotherhood is engaged in several time sensitive missions and you are vital to their success, we don't have eighty four days for you to dawdle around doing KP. While you will serve out every day of that punishment, it is deferred until your part in the mission is complete. In the meantime, you are confined to your quarters when not on duty. That is all."

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted and headed into the family quarters.

Within her power armor, Sarah Lyons sagged, never more grateful for its support, because she found that she was shaking. Not enough that anyone else would notice. Except perhaps for her father—and Alec.

She followed him to their suite. The moment they were inside and the door was sealed, she turned to him.

"What the hell, Alec?!" burst from her lips.

He met her eyes with the same strength of character she had seen in him from the first hour she had known him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that kind of behavior was even in me—until she turned up. Wanting help. Again." He offered a smile as bitter as styptic powder. "Doesn't reflect well on officers who weren't born to the Steel, does it?"

"Yes. That I get, I understand—but do you think I care about how it looks? When you know how sometimes good soldiers, people who've served for decades, suddenly just go insane and the next thing you know it's murder-suicide and their whole family is—." Their argument, such as it was, was interrupted by a whoop from further back in their rooms.

"I HEAR DADDY!" That was their daughter Joséphine, who they sometimes swore had hearing as keen as Dogmeat's and could hit pitches practically no one but a dog could hear. "DADDY'S HOME DADDY'S HOME DADDY'S HOME!"

"DADDY!" That was their son Erhard, who made up for in volume what his sister had in terms of pitch.

"Non!" called out their Ms. Nanny, Marie. She was the same bot who Elder Owyn had bought to care for Sarah after her mother's untimely death. "No running in the bathroom, Master Erhard. It is by far the most hazardous room in the house. And you are still en dishabille, which is not proper. Master Erhard!"

Shrieks of glee suggested that their son had evaded Marie and was headed for them. A sturdy toddler with hair a shade exactly in between his parents burst into the room. He was entirely naked except for a layer of bubbles, which he was shedding all over the room. He launched an attack on his father's leg and clung there. "DADDY!"

"Oh, Monsieur, Madame, I am so very sorry. I was dressing his sister and this happened." Marie floated into the room, a towel in two of her arms. "Here you are, little one." She swathed the tiny nudist in the towel as his sister, clad respectably in a playsuit, bounded in to the room behind them.

"It's all right, Marie," Alec told the robot. "I'm glad they have a little spunk in them. Wouldn't want them to turn out like a couple of scaredy-cat Vault Dwellers, would we?" Since Marie was busy toweling down Erhard, he swung Joséphine up into his arms. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Grandpapa told us a story last night, but I wanted you," Her lower lip pouted out.

"I hope you didn't say so to him," her husband told their daughter. "It would make him very sad."

"I didn't—but I still wanted you."

"I missed you too." He set her down. "They talk better every day, don't they? And not quite twenty months yet. We've got a couple of prodigies on our hands."

"I'm afraid so," she agreed.

"Sarah—I'm not one of those people. If I were—given what I've seen, what I've done—I wouldn't have made it this far. Amata—she pushed all my buttons, all at once. All the betrayal, all that I did for her and for the vault—but I never would have hurt her."

"Alec, I know that out of all the people I've ever met, you are the least likely to ever—." She closed her eyes for a moment. "But I couldn't help but be afraid. Loving someone is perilous. Because then half your happiness is walking around in the form of another person. Even when the person is you… All I can say is, whatever happens on your mission, you have to carry it off well enough to earn yourself a full pardon, because I am not going to put up with black marks on your record. I mean it!"

"Yes, sir, Ma'am Sentinel, sir!" He snapped off a salute which made her smile. "That's better. Now, I may be confined to quarters, but isn't there some way I can start working off those extra duties?" That smile reminded her of how they came to be the parents of twins in the first place.

"Perhaps." She paused. "You could start by-telling the twins a story."

AN. Has anyone else noted that the naming conventions in the Capital Wasteland seem to favor very rarely used names? Anyways, the poll is still up in the profile, please vote.