FalloutGate (Part 2): Commonwealth

by devilishlysas

One year after finding themselves stranded on an irradiated alternate Earth (the Fallout 4 Universe), Sam & Jack have found a way to survive, but their brief peace is shattered when a Shadow of Steel is cast across the Wasteland and the ever present threat of the Institute looms closer. Continues from FalloutGate Part 1, please read that first or this won't make a lick of sense.

7. Chapter 7 - Reporting for Duty

CHAPTER SEVEN: REPORTING FOR DUTY

By the time they'd grabbed their gear, a Vertibird was already undocked from the Prydwen and was heading to the roof to pick them up. Sam stood back inside the HQ stairwell as they watched it descend. It was a tilt-rotor vertical take-off and landing aircraft; this was the first time she'd got to see one functional and in action. It was so strange. It kind of looked like a fixed-wing plane, though the canopy was more like a giant choppers, and it seemed to have the speed of a fixed-wing too. The twin set of three huge bladed rotors on each side delivered incredible thrust. Then the rotors turned and lifted a full 90° to face upward; the whole thing hovered until the pilot started to bring it down. Sam's mouth fell open in awe that the thing. It was nothing like anything they had back home. It was an immense display of manoeuvrability for something large enough to be used as troop transport. As she took in the pintle-mounted minigun out of the sliding doors of the main cabin, she realised it was probably also one hell of a gunship too. She eyed it, liking the design and taking notes, right down to the transparent cockpit and folding wings.

Jack let out a long whistle, rubbing his hands together eagerly as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on it. "Nice!" He was grinning ear to ear. Rhys stood next to him sharing a grin; clearly if Jack could appreciate their ride then he was okay. Sam ignored him; she wasn't about to let Rhys spoil the mood.

"I'm betting that's a bitch to land though." she heard Jack shout above the noise. They both winced at the downwash which was fairly spectacular from those huge blades. Sam shared his concern; that thing was more likely to topple over with its centre of gravity so high up like that. The pilot was obviously skilled because he got it down with minimal fuss and only one slightly hairy moment, where it had looked like it was about to keel over onto its end.

"Oh, nice. I got to get me one of those." Jack replied, his fingers twitching. Sam grinned, thinking along a similar line. This was good. Flight technology like this was exactly what she needed – well it was a step closer anyway. She'd yet to see anything that would be capable of taking you into the upper atmosphere or even lower atmosphere but at least they were flight capable.

Rhys looked relieved and Jack gave him a nudge. "What? You look like you expected it to crash."

Rhys nodded. "They don't normally land." he admitted. "They dock with the Prydwen via magnetic array or we jump out mid-flight using the suits or rappels to get down." He shrugged, "Lancers are nuts to want to fly these things. They ain't designed for landing." He shook his head, "Be safer with a damn jet pack strapped to my back." Rhys muttered before wandering off.

Jack was eyeing the ship again. "Noted." he replied with a gleam that Sam recognised as a challenge.

The rotors spun down and came to a stop. Danse patted her on the shoulder, giving her a thumbs up which she returned. "Let's move out Team." he barked and just like that they were piling into the seats and holding on for dear life as the thing shot straight up with some speed. Sam tried not to grin like a complete idiot as they headed out, following the Prydwen's path; the pilots turning to give them all a thumbs up.

They'd barely been in flight a few minutes when the ship took a hard bank and a rocket exploded in the air where they'd just been.

"Holy shit!" Jack hollered, hanging out the doors and looking down.

"Initiate O'Neill on the gun! We got Super Mutants on the ground." Danse ordered.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Jack rubbed his hands together, grabbed the minigun next to him and proceeded to blow anything moving beneath them to all hell. Sam leant out the other side and used her scoped combat rifle to take out a few. Rhys was cheerfully hurling grenades when she had to reload.

"Now this is fun!" Rhys told her grinning wildly. God help her, she sort of agreed. Although looking at the slightly green looking Haylen opposite her, who had a death grip on the seat and her eyes firmly closed, she suspected 'fun' wasn't the word she'd have used.

They made it to the Prydwen in one piece which was frankly something of a surprise. The huge airship had specially designed docking arms for the Vertibirds, just as Rhys described. Sam watched it all with rapt attention as they came into land. Jack was going to have a field day with these flight systems … so was she to be fair, because having seen them there was no way she wasn't going to be taking a pilot seat.

"How long's it been since you flew?" Danse asked her as he secured his gear and hopped out the canopy door, extending his hand up for her. Sam took it, surprised at the chivalry as she jumped down and landed heavily on the metal ramparts. Looking straight through the mesh flooring to the Wasteland several hundred feet below.

"Not that long. Well, 200 years or so, but relatively recently since for me it was only a few years ago. I used to design and fly experimental aircraft." she reminded him, not mentioning that most of her flights involved leaving the upper atmosphere or solar system. "Occasionally took part in a race," 'Space race',but she didn't share that bit either.

"Right, yeah you said." Danse grinned, "I gotta say the fates were smiling on us when we ran into you two out here. Elder Maxon's going to be thrilled to have you on board." he admitted. "We'll get you both settled and seated in these babies in no time. If we can get you out of the armour bay that is." he grinned and she admired his Power Armour, wishing she'd had the presence of mind to retrieve hers from Sanctuary, though compared to his, hers was a bunch of junk. She was very much looking forward to the upgraded suit he'd said would be waiting for her here. Ready to trick out to her hearts content when she made the rank of course.

"What's first?" Jack asked clapping his hands together eagerly as his eyes darted around. Brotherhood soldiers in Power Armour were trooping up and down the deck, his eyes taking in their movement patterns and threat levels.

"Initiation." Danse glanced back, not slowing his stride. He pointed to a severe looking man in a dark uniform.

"Yeah, you said … with this Maxson guy. Anything we should know about him? You know, before going in."

"Just be respectful, soldier." Danse gave Jack a look that suggested he curb his smart mouth. Jack returned a look that pretty much said 'Who me?'

"Elder Maxson is the blueprint, the model, for what all Brotherhood soldiers hope to become. If we are going to war then he is exactly who we want leading the charge. He's a great man. A great leader."

"We'll be on a best behaviour, won't we Jack?" she warned him and he merely grinned banally back at her, giving her the scouts salute which did absolutely nothing to convince her that he had any intention of being anything other than his usual smart-ass self.

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Okay, so Jack was faintly impressed. Arthur Maxson had presence and gravitas, pulled off with an excellently sculpted beard. He was taking notes actually. His usual irreverent air had a time and place, this wasn't it. Plus Maxson's jacket was seriously cool; fur trimmed black leather trench and everything. He certainly had more going for him than that Lancer Captain Kellis. That guy had been a whole barrel of 'no fun whatsoever' when he'd insisted on introducing himself to the latest recruits up on the gangway. Jack had never felt quite so patronised. It had taken him a few seconds to remember that the tough old bastard was seeing a fairly young man in front of him rather than the grizzled silver haired General he used to be. Youth had its perks but it was no help in convincing no-nonsense arseholes that you knew what you were doing … and to not call you 'son'. Jack had pretty much growled an 'Ad Victoriam' and a chest thump at him and sauntered off before he said something a Boy Scout definitely wouldn't. Apparently, he was the Captain of this airship and he wanted them to know it. Maxson though, he was the guy behind the guy who was merely steering the big floating metal ball of gas. This was who they really needed to impress.

It seemed like Danse's backing meant something because, on his say so, they'd been accepted. He had taken personal responsibility in vouching for them so Jack minded his Ps and Qs. Danse was sticking his neck out gambling on them like this and Sam wanted up here in a bad way, so he was damn well going to make this work. Particularly given what had just happened on the ground; he wanted her in a suit of armour too.

Maxson had greeted them on the Command deck personally as Jack stared down at the Wasteland view below; it was tactically a bad decision to stick all the important people on board in a glass box, sticking out the front end of the ship. But then, he wasn't a designer and he had to admit it was a good view of the ground; he was starting to suspect that radar had never been invented here.

The address Maxson gave them and two other 'wet behind the ears' looking Initiates was long; Jack tried to focus but mostly got snippets.

"Brothers and Sisters, the road behind us has been long and fraught with difficulty.

We've accomplished amazing feats." Maxson intoned, with a seriousness emphasised by the impressive scar across his right eye and cheek. Jack thought he'd heard something like it before. The whole 'the battle was long, the war was never ending, you're all true-blue soldiers and I'm damn proud of each and every one of you'. It was inspiring Jack supposed. He personally thought George Hammond might have done it better; that Texas drawl really did give those kinds of speeches the edge. Maxson had gotten to the good stuff eventually.

"Now that the Prydwen is in position, it is the time to reveal our purpose and our mission." Dramatic pause. "Beneath the Commonwealth, there is a cancer known as 'The Institute'". A malignant growth that needs to be cut out before it infects the surface. They are experimenting with dangerous technologies that could prove to be the world's undoing for the second time in recent history. It is time we bought the full force of the Brotherhood to face this threat head on!"

Both his and Sam's ears had pricked at that. Jack suspected she wanted to find this Institute almost as badly as Maxson seemed to want to wipe it off the map, which could be a problem given their goals might not be mutually inclusive.

"The Institute Scientists have created a weapon that transcends the destructive nature of the atom bomb. They call their creation the "Synth". A robotic abomination of technology that masquerades as a human being."

The sneer on Maxson's face and the general grumble of disapproval coming from the crowd told Jack that this group were not fans, though even he was slightly surprised at the vehemence in the next statement.

"This notion that a machine can be granted free will is not only offensive but grossly misguided and dangerous. And like the destructive force of an atom, if it isn't harnessed properly, it has the potential of rendering us extinct as a species. As the Elder of the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood it falls to me to take action to protect our interests and ensure the survival of our species. I am not prepared to allow the Institute to continue this line of experimentation."

They were meddling with forces they couldn't comprehend … yadda, yadda. Same old, same old. Sam had gone rigid beside him; no doubt the talk of Synths was still a particularly potent trigger for her. Jack moved closer to her, letting the backs of their hands brush for a moment. He watched her inhale gently, taking a steadying breath and he nodded with no small amount of relief himself. Just yesterday when she'd laid bare the recent cost to save him, the notion that he might not be able to touch her without in some way hurting her had almost broken him, but it seemed there were ways around that and he intended to keep reminding her that his touch was nothing but love. They shared a look for a brief moment before he returned his attention to Maxson.

The man seemed to share an ideology he had always supported and he knew Sam had recently had a short sharp awakening too. Robots that thought they were human led to robots thinking they were better than humans, which inevitably led to no more humans. Personally, Jack thought the Judgement Day style speech would have been more effective if they weren't already in an apocalyptic wasteland but he understood the sentiment; best not to make a bad situation worse and all that. 'Why go waving your hands and arms about when you were clinging on by your fingernails?' Or some other such cliché.

"Therefore, I am officially declaring the Institute and their "Synths" enemies of the Brotherhood of Steel. They will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. Their misguided technology will be contained. This campaign will be costly and many lives will be lost. But in the end, we will be saving humankind from its own worst enemy ... itself. Ad Victoriam!"

So there it was, the Brotherhood's mission statement; every Synth was to be cut down without mercy or restraint and the Institute buried before they could wipe them all out with their misguided science … again. Sam's fist clenched and Jack sighed; it was a cause he thought Sam might be a little too keen to join. Not that he didn't feel a healthy amount of rage but it wasn't directed at the Synths specifically. No, his desire to beat the crap out of something was far more nebulous, especially right here right now. Sam had been abused and violated because of him. She could say what she liked about blame and guilt but he'd left his wife alone because he'd made a stupid ass mistake. It was only by some miracle that he was back and relatively unscathed. Oh he was angry; angry at the world in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. Anger at himself … oh that was easy, familiar since Charlie but that had only threatened him. This anger threatened to spill out with terrifying ferocity. It was a white-hot pit of seething rage that had started in his gut the moment he'd emptied that clip into Edward's dead body. No one touched Sam! No one made her doubt her self-worth and no one made her flinch from his damn touch! And yet, they had. He closed his eyes and fisted his hand, promising he'd find himself a punch bag or some other method to expel this because he knew from bitter experience that bottling up his emotions never boded well.

His attention drifted back to their 'fearless leader'. Maxson seemed to genuinely give a crap about what was left of humanity; enough to want to save it from itself even if he clearly took himself a bit too seriously. The guy also had charisma by the bucketload. The soldiers around him and the other two new recruits seemed to be bristling from that rousing little number, all too eager to go 'smite the wicked'. If Maxson wanted zealous and righteous anger to point in a particular direction then Jack might just be the right man for it right now.

He and Sam came to attention almost on instinct as Maxson strode over to them, because hey, when in Rome and all that. Up close, Jack realised Maxson was imposing. He was a big man. Not as big as Danse but he had a more naturally put together look; slick, strong, a well cropped beard, a several times broken nose and dark eyes. The scar running down his right cheek added to the overall 'warrior leader' mystique. But his eyes were hard; Jack thought he recognised those eyes pretty well.

"Welcome, Brother, Sister." he intoned and Jack nodded, feeling damn sure that he never again wanted to hear anyone put the words 'Brother' and 'Sister' together with him and Sam.

"Paladin Danse has sent us some impressive reports about your conduct out there. It seems we share core values. But then, perhaps that's to be expected if you haven't been infected by this Wasteland or the depravities that led to it. If I'm to understand correctly, you slept through the slow death of civilisation?" Maxson posed it as a question but Jack got the impression that he was perfectly well aware of their backstory.

Sam nodded. "Not by choice. The Military ordered us into the Vault and so we went."

Maxson nodded. "The Vaults … finally it would seem that the Enclave's vast experiments, misguided perversions of human ingenuity and avarice that were perpetrated in their pursuit of power and control, will yield something positive into this world." he declared and Jack nodded; this guy certainly liked the sound of his own voice. He made the Raiders out here sound like illiterate morons which well frankly they were.

"Not a fan of the Vaults then?" Jack commented when the silence went a beat too long. He glanced at Sam who was looking uncomfortable under the long intense stare that Maxson was levelling at her, like he was inspecting her to her core and finding her coming up short. Jack wondered for a moment if her 'pretty face' was going to be declared 'too pretty' to be any good as a solider now as well and she'd have to knock this guy out to prove otherwise. Or maybe he was just projecting. It could be that he was just trying to figure her out. That pit in his gut grew a little more.

"So the Enclave were responsible for the Vaults?" Sam asked surprising him; Jack had no idea what an Enclave was … it sounded political.

Maxson grimaced. "If there is an evil in this world, you can be sure they had a hand in it. But yes, the Vaults were their monstrosities." he nodded, "Fortunately the Enclave are now dead. Our Brothers and Sisters in the Capital have seen to that. All that remains of the broken shadow government that led us all to ruin lies in the ashes of Washington."

"Good. That's good." Jack muttered. Finally Maxson's eyes turned on him and he felt Sam relax a fraction, out of the spotlight beside him.

"I can always use good soldiers." he told Jack. "But I had expected an older man … a General of a militia here are you not?" he all but accused and Jack cocked his head sideways, assessing him.

"Actually, I was a General back in the good old days too. Can't say it suited me flying a desk though. I'm much better suited to field work. But what can you do when people seem to want to keep pinning stars to your shoulders?" He shrugged, going for self-deprecating with a hint of threat. Men like Maxson needed a dick measuring contest every now and again; it was expected, Jack could do that.

"Really?" Maxson didn't sound all that convinced and Jack rolled his eyes out of habit. To think he was irritated before by being judged to damn old; this would get tiresome.

"Little mishap a few days ago with a bottle of 'age-be-gone serum'," Jack shrugged, "I might not look it anymore but trust me, I'm plenty old on the inside, with thirty years of frontline combat under my belt." Jack smiled thinly, clapping his hands together, "And, I'm eager to get to the 'smiting of the evil below'." he replied, only half joking.

Maxson gave him a thousand-yard stare; another sense of humour vacuum it seemed. "You seem to find it hard to take that idea seriously." Jack felt the amiable smile slide off his face and let something of his Black Ops show. After all, putting a gun in his hand right now was going to get someone killed, it might as well be something monstrous. He'd particularly like to run into another pack of feral ghouls and unleash a little pent-up frustration, imagining Edward's damn face.

"Ah." Maxson nodded, with a flicker of a grin, "Now those eyes I recognise." he snorted. "Your mask is very effective; I'll give you that. Disarming. For a moment I'd thought you a fool. I'm guessing that might have been the last thing a lot of people thought." He looked once more to Sam and back at him. Neither of them took the bait, his smile slid off.

"Tell me old soldier. Where were you based before the bombs fell and the Government stuck you both on ice?" he commanded like a man used to getting answers.

Jack paused. Sam filled the gap smoothly. "Before Vault 111 we were based at Cheyenne Mountain, in Colorado. It's a secret military base deep underground." Sticking as close to the truth as possible had seemed like a solid plan. Sam had assured him that there was a Cheyenne on this world, or at least so said P.A.M.

Maxson's jaw tensed. Oh crap. Jack sensed that was either the worst or the best thing Sam could say. He wasn't certain which way it was going to come down but it had provoked some sort of reaction.

"Oh I know Cheyenne Mountain." he said grimly. "It's where the Brotherhood's mission statement was born. Where the first of the depravities that would plague mankind was born. Vault 000. The birthplace of 'The Calculator'." Jack's eyebrows rose in question and Maxson inclined his head, clearly remembering they'd missed all the fun. "You really did sleep through the war." He shook his head, as if bemused by that fact. "It was an AI meant to lead an army of war robots and ensure the rebirth of humanity after nuclear extinction." he explained looking, if possible, more severe than before.

Seems like Sam was right, it was the damn AI's you had to watch. Jack tried very hard not to laugh or ridicule but his lip curved and he smothered the expression. "'The Calculator' you say … yep, yeah, that definitely has the ring of some sort of Big Bad." Oh it was begging to be mocked. I mean come on! What the hell kind of name was that for a bad guy? It made Ba'al sound almost cool by comparison. Maxson gave him an eyebrow quirk back, as if giving him an opening to speak freely. That was all it took.

"Just doesn't really strike fear does it? … a name like that. What's he going to do, 'subtract me to death'? Why not 'The Protractor'? …" he snorted, "… or you know some other harmless desk-based object, like 'The Eraser'… oh wait that one's not bad." Jack realised, a grin splitting his features. Maxson gave him a slow look and promptly spun on his heel. Jack got the impression he'd been dismissed.

Sam shot him a look as Maxson walked away, his hands behind his back as he wandered through the now empty Command Room and went to stare out the big ass, but tactically stupid, glass windows.

'Shut it!' Sam mouthed at him with a sharp gesture.

'What?' he shrugged, 'The Calculator!' He rolled his eyes. For crying out loud, he was only human and that needed mocking. Besides, deflecting the anger bubbling beneath the surface into biting sarcasm was pretty much his MO. Although the idea that, in this reality, Cheyenne Mountain had been the site of some sort of pitched battle between robots and the soldiers it was meant to save was all kind of 'Judgement Day' Terminator-style creepy. Particularly given the Replicator war they'd just left on their Earth. Maybe that really was humanity's fate; to die by their own, or some super advanced alien races, artificial creations?

Maxson continued on, clearly ignoring his little outburst. "The first rise of the machines against humanity should have been warning enough about the dangers of technology. But that was also humanity's failing. No robot should have been entrusted as the catalyst for our rebirth. That task instead, falls to us." He hit his chest firmly, chin raised and Jack figured that he was thinking about taking odds on some sort of 'pride comes before the fall' type of mishap for him the way he was talking.

"The Brotherhood are the guardians of civilisation. We are entrusted with preserving human knowledge and technology. To ensure that it never again falls into the wrong hands." he intoned and Jack nodded sagely. Right - robots bad. Tell him something he didn't know.

"So the Brotherhood of Steel are the 'right' hands?" Jack pressed and Sam actually swatted him around the ear in a lightning fast move behind Maxon's back that left it stinging, making him flinch. 'Ouch' he mouthed at her with a pointed glare. Clearly she thought he was about to get them thrown off the 'big airship of doom'. He suspected that she'd been itching to clip him around the ear many, many briefings ago back home, if her satisfied little look meant anything. Sam kept her eyes on Maxson's back and pointedly ignored him. Minx.

Maxson snorted and looked back at them as they tried to look like they weren't in the middle of a non-verbal row. "You certainly speak your mind … Initiate." He reminded him of his relative standing and Jack took the rebuke.

"But yes, out here, the Brotherhood are the only hands I would trust with war machines like the ones launched from Cheyenne. We stood in its path when all other's bowed. We pushed back the night and stoked the last embers of humanity as it balanced on the precipice of extinction." Jack felt his eyes glaze and he rocked on the balls of his feet, wondering how the hell this guy got anything done with all this grandiose pontification. He'd met a few of this ilk in Washington – he'd not stayed awake during those meetings either.

"So yes Initiate. The Brotherhood have demonstrated they are to be trusted." Maxson turned to fully stand, hands behind his back. "But I like a man who asks questions. Who is slow to trust." he declared and beckoned them forward, pointing down to the Wasteland visible through the glass.

"Look down there, at the scorched Earth and the bones that litter the Wasteland." Jack assumed he was talking metaphorically because all he could see was the mostly intact ruins of Boston Airport beneath them.

"Billions died because science outpaced humanity's restraint and its wisdom. They touted phrases like 'new frontier' and 'pushing the envelope' but they completely disregarded the possible repercussions and failed to see the bigger picture!" he exclaimed and pointed at them both sharply, as if they weren't listening. "And we must stop it from happening again with the Institute."

"Cheery thought." Jack replied, genuinely feeling a sense of unease about that.

Maxson's eyes had drifted to Sam again. "Do you have nothing to say Initiate? I am keen to know the thoughts of those that came from the world of our forefather's. To have the opportunity to convince you both just what it is the Brotherhood stands for. Why we need to exist. To have you understand that our cause is more than simply pushing back the monsters that you see on the surface of this rotting world." He invited Sam to speak whereas Jack had mostly been shushed, making him wonder what exactly Danse had said about Sam given that they'd done most of the talking together. It seemed like they'd managed to wrongfoot Maxson with Jack being the more vocal of the two. Good. He hated to be predictable.

Sam stepped up to them and met his flat stare, "I don't disagree. Technology for technologies sake is a fool's ambition. But technology in the right hands, with purpose and design … I have seen that lift humanity to incredible heights." She didn't outwardly say the Brotherhood were the right hands but with that tone and her damn earnest face, she might have just implied it, which seemed to be enough for this guy. Jack bit the inside of his cheek.

Maxson nodded, a grin forming on his lips and Jack rolled his eyes. 'Teacher's pet'. "Well said." came Maxon's response; his eyes seemed to flash with intensity at finding such a 'willing' Initiate in Sam which made Jack bristled slightly. His eyes drifted to Jack, "But perhaps I still have a little convincing to do, to demonstrate that the Brotherhood are the right hands." he finished cautiously and Jack liked him slightly more; it helped to have someone competent in charge.

"Looks like." Jack replied thinly. "Thanks for having us on board though and for the whole ceremony, it's all very impressive. And this ship … Wow! Big and honking, as promised!" He decided that if all else failed, flattery usually worked; he'd pretty much told the guy he didn't trust him or his cause so there was a bridge to be mended. This was usually why he let Daniel do the talking. Although if Daniel were here he suspected they'd have been clapped in irons by now for expressing some thought or other that royally pissed Maxson and his Brothers off.

Maxson nodded. "I'm glad it meets with your approval." he deadpanned, then seemed to come to attention. "But to business I suppose. Given as my most decorated field officer has decided to vouch for you both, I am granting you officially the ranks of Knights of the Brotherhood of Steel." He gave them both an official nod and Jack was mildly disappointed; he'd been hoping to have to get down on his knee and receive a sword tap on each shoulder. Surely that was how you Knighted somebody?

"I expect you both to familiarise yourselves with this ship and its crew. Once you clear your physicals and we are assured of your state of health and readiness to serve, your training will begin in earnest. Then you may prove to me that my Paladin's faith was not misplaced." Maxson informed them with just a hint of a warning. So no blind faith then which was smart at least.

"Cool. So when do we get our hands on one of those fancy suits of armour, given as we've been Knighted and all?" Jack rubbed his hands together with glee.

Maxson snorted. "How about we see how you do in basic training before we issue you one of those? But by all means, impress me General and I'll gladly hand you your own suit." His eyes drifted to Sam for a moment, "I understand Knight Carter that you have already demonstrated an aptness for technology, if Danse's recently upgraded suit is anything to go by. I'm sure you'll be eager to assist Proctor Ingram and show her just how much we have forgotten about our own technology." Maxson gave Sam a look that Jack recognised on a number of NID and Area 51 R&D Heads that had started sniffing around her the day he got promoted. So Maxson was a charismatic battle-scarred leader with a head for scientists. Jack really might get to liking the guy if he could maybe get him to crack a smile once or twice.

"I'll do my best Elder." Sam replied with a tight nod that Jack knew hid a faint blush. Sam wasn't vain by any means but she did like to be recognised for her many, many skills; none more so than her science stuff. Perhaps he wouldn't like the guy after all.

"That's what we expect of you all. Your best." Maxson replied sharply. "You're dismissed Knights." Then he stepped back and thumped his fist to his chest, bowing his head a fraction. Jack followed suit, getting the feeling that was the end of the discussion, and heard Sam do the same. Jack nodded and the two of them hotfooted it out of there before he could say something else to land them in hot water.

"For crying out loud Jack, what the hell was that?!" Sam collared him in the corridor as they hustled their way to where a steely eyed Brotherhood soldier was pointing. Sam looked like she might quite like to throttle him.

"Follow me. You are to report to Knight-Captain Cade for your physical examinations." the young soldier in the army looking gear snapped at them, probably saving him from an ass-kicking by his not so gentle wife.

"Hmm physicals … my favourite." Jack retorted with just enough sass to fly under this guy's sarcasm radar but not Sam's, who gave him a look that reminded him that the honeymoon period may well be over. He shrugged helplessly. She knew how he felt about Doctors. Why was it they always wanted to poke him with stuff when he was perfectly healthy? They followed the soldier, continuing their whispered conversation as they went, falling back just far enough so the guy was out of earshot as they kept him in sight; not especially wanting to get lost on this giant blimp.

"What … I'm not allowed to speak now?" He knew there had been times when she'd have preferred he just shut the hell up but she'd not actually suggested that before. Granted, normally there was a chain of command stopping it. There were times he kind of missed that chain.

"We're trying to play nicely, remember." she pointed out looking thoroughly pissed at him. Jack suspected he might have played it a little overly irreverent with Maxson; the guy wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs – guess growing up in a Wasteland Army would do that to you.

"Hey, I played nicely." he grit out. "I complimented his stupid ass window and everything. But I'm fairly sure we're supposed to be up here trying to work out if the Brotherhood was a place we wanted to stay and a group we should support?" he countered. "Poking people with a stick to see what dirty laundry falls out is pretty much what I do."

Sam paused in step beside him giving him an exasperated if thoughtful glare. "I know Jack, and you do it well. But look, I don't disagree with their arguments and I like Maxson. He seemed honest at least and he didn't cut you down for your crap." which she clearly thought he should have.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh I see, like that is it? Hard ass soldier giving you orders, big dark broken eyes, hint of silvering at the temples, manly scar, mad about your nerd credentials and eager to get you into a new suit … oh he's definitely your type." She glared at him and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from making another comment. That one was bad enough even if he had meant it half in jest; it had gotten a little bitter towards the end. The anger bubbling away had escaped him for a moment and he'd regretted it the minute it was out of his mouth. He didn't usually do jealous and Sam didn't deserve it directed at her, especially not at the moment. He hoped his clearly guilty, almost apologetic look would be enough as he winced at her glare. Feeling the mental kick to the balls she'd just aimed.

"I'm going to ignore that comment for now." Sam replied graciously, giving him a knowing look that promised he was on thin ice. "So long as you admit that even you were impressed. I saw the look on your face. I know that look." she reminded him. "You admire his passion, his drive as much as I do. Just look at what the Brotherhood have accomplished out here Jack, and this is just one Chapter. They're everywhere!" She glanced at him, noting his restraint from his undoubtedly pinched expression.

"I liked his nifty leather jacket." he admitted, falling back on his defensive irreverence because it worked for him, and to be fair that jacket was great; fur trimmed, long battered leather. He kind of wanted one of those more than he wanted the suit of armour right now. "Little chilly in this metal flying fortress." He grinned at her, his shit-eating one, rubbing his arms.

"Why do you always do that?" Sam sighed but there was a curve to her lips which meant she'd found it at least a smidge amusing or was willing to tolerate it anyway.

"Because it works for me." he admitted, "And because you like it."

"Oh shut up!" she muttered, walking ahead of him, shaking her head in clear exasperation at him and her own apparent foolishness for sticking around him. He smirked; they'd always bickered like an old married couple. He was rather pleased to note it was for real now.

He caught up with her, "What say we go see to these physicals? Because I'm sure you're itching to get one of those fancy suits on and by the sounds of it we're not getting near them until we've been thoroughly poked and prodded."

"Be still my heart." Sam muttered. "It's times like these I miss Janet." she admitted suddenly.

Jack grimaced at the reminder of their friend back home. Just like remembering anyone from their former life was painful but in a good way, most of the time. At the moment it just hurt when he was wanting her anywhere but in this damn shithole of a world. Hoping something of his dark thoughts didn't bleed onto his face, he kept up his end of the banter. "That's because she didn't give you punishment jabs with the really big needles." he whispered under his breath but he was fairly certain she'd heard him if her smirk was anything to go by.

"And I'm sure that the once-a-month bottle of wine we both used to get through on our girl's nights helped." Sam replied, a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. God, he wished he could get her back to that, to a simpler life. Or at least a life that was theirs.

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They sat on opposite gurneys after their perfunctory physicals, which involved one minimal needle and a lot of fancy scans, waiting nervously for the Doc to come back and give them the results. Jack had honestly not felt this concerned about passing one since his knees went on him the first time. But the fact was simple; they were pretty much aliens on a ship full of xenophobic zealots. If anything in their blood work pinged back weird, they'd be thrown overboard. And between them they had a whole lot of 'weird'. Aside from the magical rejuvenating brew in his blood and the crazy Ancient gene, there was the little issue of what they might find in Sam's. He doubted even Danse's recommendation would stretch past alien parasite proteins and metal that didn't exist on Earth.

"Good news. You are both in excellent physical health!" Knight-Captain Cade announced as he strode back in with a grin. Or 'Doc' as Jack had dubbed him much to his clear displeasure. In fairness, the balding leather skinned older man in the military issue duds, with the round the clock twenty-four-hour stubble, bore little resemblance to Janet. Jack would actually possibly credit him with having a better bedside manner, if nothing else he was the first one of them to crack a smile. Granted it had been whilst jabbing him, so maybe he was just a sadist too.

"Both of your cognitive and spatial awareness skills have come back extremely high. Dexterity also good. Reflexes very good with good muscle tone and strength, and of course you both have phenomenal cellular robustness and resilience." He pointed at Sam. "You Knight Carter have one of the highest IQ scores I've seen." Jack smirked, of course she did. He pointed at Jack, "And I've never seen spatial reasoning and pattern recognition skills like yours before outside of practiced simulations. Quite extraordinary." Jack blinked, well that was new. Sam was beaming at him and he gave her a grin. It wasn't often he got praised for his brain but he had given it the old 'college try', as she'd requested, wanting them to be impressed. It wasn't like he could pretend with her. She knew full well he had a trophy for Academic Excellence gathering dust somewhere. She'd used it once to enforce her glare when he'd been playing wilfully ignorant of some gizmo she'd been insistent he understand.

Cade was staring down at his lab reports. "Ah yes, as expected very little radiation exposure." He looked up and grinned sharply at them both. "Had I not known you were frozen in a Vault for hundreds of years I might suspect you were Synths who'd found a way of giving me a fake blood sample!" Knight-Captain Cade smiled jovially at them both, his shaved head and army fatigue get up making it harder to see him as a Doctor. Jack was just so used to the lab coated versions.

They'd both gone quiet at his little non-joke so Jack grinned, barking out a polite expected laugh in response. "Oh we're human, really … totally, human." he added, possibly over selling that a little. Sam kicked him in the shin when Cade wasn't looking; he muffled his wince as the man turned back to them.

"Relax." Doc Cade replied clearly sensing their unease. "I know the Brotherhood can seem daunting but two such fine old-world military specimen's as yourselves will fit right in here, rest assured." He glanced at the charts then back up at them, at Sam in particular. Jack practiced being still rather than fidgeting like he sorely wanted too. He was sure this was it … Sam's blood.

"Are you quite certain that you want to accept a front-line posting Knight Carter? Perhaps a Scribe with the expectation of achieving a Proctor position in the near future might be better suited based on your cognitive and aptitude scores?" he hinted, "I understand from Paladin Danse's report that your technical proficiency comes highly recommended." The Doc gave her a scrutinising once over. Okay, so not quite what Jack had expected. He glanced at Sam, wondering if he didn't have a point. Sticking her in engineering might be a much better way of getting her hands on the tech she wanted.

Sam smiled thinly. "I'm a field operative." she replied, "I'd prefer to explore the combat applications of the Power Armour. I understand from Scribe Halen that your Scribes and Proctors don't have access to those." Ah, Jack reasoned, that would be it then; she wanted a suit for the Glowing Sea expedition. She was no doubt planning already so she was sticking to the 'marine' track.

"For now, I'm not quite ready to hang up my gun. Although I would like to think that if I were to request a transfer, you would be willing to support that?" She gave Doc Cade her megawatt smile and Jack watched, with something like admiration, at how the Doc seemed to brighten, startling slightly to see the expression levelled at him. Jack thought Sam was probably about to get access to pretty much any department she wanted and a clean bill of health to boot. He'd have been more irked but charming people with that smile was what she did, usually after he'd riled them up.

"Oh, yes well, yes of course, very logical." Doc agreed with a hint of a stammer. "I'd be more than happy to do so when the time comes." he nodded, looking down at his notes for a moment; Jack wondered if he was masking a smile. "Excellent. So moving on …" Cade's eyes lifted and drifted over to Jack for a moment. "Well, you'll be pleased to hear we've scrubbed you both of any remaining radiation sickness. Your cells are clean. Knight O'Neill you in particular are in excellent health for a man who suffered such an atrocious wound." He indicated his chest and shoulder.

"Although, as you say, the scan was somewhat confused about your biological age. Whilst some of your cells retain their original state, your bones in particular, others have completely regenerated making aging them impossible. But I can confirm that it would appear you were once biologically in your 50s." Jack smiled widely at him, hoping that was all he was asked about that. "Quite remarkable. And you say it was some sort of regeneration serum found out here in the Wasteland?"

Jack smiled thinly. "Bit of a happy accident and very much a one-time only deal. The guy who made it is dead now. Or if not dead, very, very wrinkly and his golden goose is definitely dead … vaporised if you get my meaning." Jack nodded congenially at him, really wanting to hammer that point home; they really didn't want ol' Lorenzo being dug up. "Can't say I knew what was in it or how he got it. He offered it and given as most of my chest was outside my body, I wasn't especially choosy about the cure." He shrugged helplessly, playing on his lower IQ score.

"Ah yes, you refer to the scarring across your chest of course. Remarkable. The healing looks decades old and yet I understand it was only a few days ago?" Cade queried and Jack nodded, not offering more. "No residual lameness from it or movement restriction that might impair your ability to use the Power Armour?" He looked expectantly at Jack.

"Fit as a fiddle." Jack rotated his arm and puffed out his chest. There was a bit of stiffness when the scar tissue pulled taut but nothing that would limit his range of movement.

Doc Cade glanced at Sam again. "Good, that's good." He glanced down at his screen clearly bothered by something. "I'll admit, there was also a small anomaly in your blood results Knight Carter." He looked up pointedly at her, clearly the two of them were all sorts of interesting. "Perhaps you can explain how a rare and as yet unidentified metal with some quite fascinating properties appears to have made its way into your blood stream?" he queried, his eyebrow up but a tone in his voice that suggested she'd best have a good answer. Jack was sensing the old 'Synth' detector about to be whipped out, if they even had those.

Sam nodded, barely missing a beat and Jack waited as she rolled out the explanation they'd developed back in Sanctuary almost a year ago, having learnt about the Vaults and the military's habit of 'testing' on the general population. God knows what they did to their own soldiers.

"We were Special Ops." she told him firmly. "Highly classified work. They asked me to volunteer for a procedure." she grimaced, "I don't know what it was. They just told me they were building a better soldier … then they shot me full of it. Shortly after that we were ordered into the cryotubes." She was playing dumb, or at least the good soldier, Jack realised faintly amused at the prospect.

"And did you notice any after-effects?" Cade asked pointedly. Sam nodded again, glancing at his monitors, clearly wondering what his lab results had shown. Ignorance would only get her so far.

"I seem to have a higher tolerance for chems and radiation." she replied and Cade nodded, ticking something off on the chart. "My metabolism is kicked somewhere into high gear." she added when he didn't seem entirely satisfied.

"I see. Tell me, were you, either of you, exposed at all during these procedures to something known as FEV?" he asked cagily.

Sam shifted slightly. The Doc was trying to catch them out Jack realised. Even he knew from his time with the Minutemen and Curie that FEV, otherwise known as the Forced Evolutionary Virus, was the thing that turned men and women into Super Mutants; a bioweapon meant to make Super-Soldiers that accidentally on purpose got loose. Of course, the military would have been involved in developing it somewhere. It wasn't a leap to think that they'd have been guinea pigs for that too. Fortunately, during their brief stroll with her through the Wastes, Curie had filled them in on quite a lot of the back story of that particularly horrible part of this Earth's history.

"Not that we're aware of, although I think I might have noticed turning big and green and loosing almost all those IQ points you just jotted down." Sam replied. Cade smirked, so at least he had a sense of humour. "But in all seriousness," Sam continued, "I think that may have been just a case of good timing. It's entirely possible that what's in my blood may have been designed to make me more resistant to it." Well, that was a complete pack of lies, Jack thought, although who the hell knew what effect the protein marker in her blood, combined with the Naquadah, would have on a virus like that. He'd never noticed viral resistance being one of her unique skills; she'd gotten sick as often as the rest of them off-world. And it definitely seemed to make her more of a target to the old cliché of 'hostile alien body-snatch'.

"Interesting. And you were frozen before the war yes …?" Cade pressed.

Jack responded giving Sam a break. "Yep. First gen cryopods. Not quite got all the kinks out, I don't think. Apparently Top Brass wanted their best and brightest all locked up tight in case things went South. Miracle they lasted really. Rest of the Unit were popsicles." he added grimly, not finding it hard to bring a haggard expression to his face at the memory of finding those people in that first Vault they'd encountered. Not his men granted, but still a bad way to go.

"Thank you. Well, we will perhaps need to run more tests. Make sure the abuses of science committed by our ancestors don't continue to threaten us all." He looked at Sam pointedly, who had stayed quiet through his little explanation. "I have the sample. I will let you know if my research throws anything up. It does appear to be only circulating in your blood stream. Your genetic structure is otherwise unaltered by it, apart from some slightly altered biochemical and protein structures, which I suspect are harmless and possibly naturally occurring. We don't often get many pre-War specimens, as you can imagine. Thankfully your significant potential as a viable breeding partner has not been impacted." he finished with.

"My what?" Sam asked sharply, her head shooting up and looking at Jack.

Jack returned her look, wondering if they were about to have a 'Sam is not a broodmare' discussion. But Doc Cade merely looked between them. "I believe you said you had a spousal relationship to one another?" he pointed between them and Jack nodded.

"Yep. Yes. Very married, very committed." Jack piped up, reaching out to place his hand on Sam's knee, giving it a pat just in case anyone got any ideas about pairing them with someone else.

"Admirable but quaint." The Doc smiled ruefully in his most patronising tone. "I suppose that is acceptable. From your results I have no objections to your breeding pairing. Any resulting offspring would be genetically viable."

"Well, now that we have your permission …" Jack bit out, feeling his ire rising.

"Good, then it's agreed." Cade seemed to completely miss his sarcasm. "I think Paladin Danse was most correct. We have high hopes for the two of you." He turned and marked something on his fancy electronic pad, as if that settled it. That 'bad' feeling Jack had on seeing the blimp blotting out the sky redoubled. At least there weren't frat regs preventing married couples from serving together out here. Not that he'd expected them but you never know.

Sam was staying wisely silent. He glanced at her, noting the pinched and nervous expression. With her 'unusual' blood he could get why she just wanted this over with, before the Doc changed his damn mind.

"We'll do our best, Doc!" Jack confirmed. "It's our honour to serve." The Doc looked up and Jack tried not to visibly blanch. He hadn't quite meant to say that, not that exact way. It dredged up a few too many memories of a certain ice planet and some less than spectacular looking orange jumpsuits. Sam's brilliance had got her in trouble there too, he hoped that wasn't about to repeat.

"Excellent." the Doc replied non-plussed, turning back to his machine. Jack waved off Sam's look; he damn well knew what he'd said and was mighty irritated by it. He wasn't sure that Jonah's personality had ever entirely left his brain, which explained why he often still dreamt of mining … naked. Sam with her spiky Thera hair and a pickaxe was an interesting look that still never failed to give him morning wood. The Doc's machine finished, distracting Jack momentarily from his little daydream, as Cade returned with a set of cog like metal dog-tags that it had apparently been stamping.

"Your medical details are encoded into this on the reverse … along with your spousal relationship." he informed them. "Any Brotherhood of Steel member will be able to ID you. Do not remove them." He handed the tags over. Knight Jack Carter-O'Neill stamped there, proud as day. He glanced at Sam's … just checking. It had Knight Sam O'Neill-Carter there and he couldn't help but grin a little to see it there in black and white. Sam looped them around her neck to sit alongside her original ones that she stubbornly clung to, like a remnant of her last life, and glanced down at the name stamped into it too, not quite able to suppress a smile. He supposed if they did get back they had a more legitimate claim on their marriage now, endorsed by the leading military faction and stamped right there. He wondered if that was legally binding now given as they were what posed for the law out here?

"Right, you're done here." the Doc announced, "Go report to Security Station, mid-deck. You will be briefed on the Prydwen, your roles and you'll get your training schedules."

Sam hopped off the bed and reached into her pocket, "This is for the Brotherhood." She offered the holo-tape to Cade. Jack knew full well what it contained: their goodwill ticket. "I found this in a Vault out here. It's how the ghouls were made. There was a cure to the early stages of the condition. We've used it successfully once on a friend. Maybe you can see what you can make of it." she suggested and Cade took it, looking down at it in surprise. Clearly impressed and a little confused.

"Ghouls were made?" his eyebrows hit his non-existent hairline and he swallowed. Jack snorted, the guy needed to work on his poker face or he'd get ripped off on the ground. "Well, thank you Knight. I assure you I'll look into it. Scribe Neriah will be most pleased. She has a special interest in the more interesting species out here in the Commonwealth." Cade nodded, "But I've detained you long enough. Off you go now! Basic training starts at oh six hundred sharp. Danse has set your bar high, don't disappoint him."

"Roger that!" Jack all but saluted and they both hightailed it out of there to find out what the bunk situation was looking like and where he got his combat boots. Same old same old it seemed. Enlisting really should be a once in a lifetime occasion he thought as they were piled up with gear and came to a stop in a central room that reminded him of a giant warehouse, just floating in a blimp. There were rows upon rows of single bunks and he was right back to agreeing with Jonah again ... "Doh."

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The first few weeks with the Brotherhood seemed to pass in a blink. Sam finally felt like she was in her element. The life of a soldier was something she knew intimately. Uniforms, machines, bunks, regimented time, rules and orders, the chain of command. It had been her entire life. For the first time since they'd landed on this world, this Earth, she felt like she fitted in, like she had a place. Granted it was different: the drills, the doctrine, the fighting style, the history. All of it rubbed her 'not quite right' but it was close enough. It would be an adjustment but it was something she was willing to work at.

Jack … well, she suspected he felt differently. For him, shedding the military and the chain of command had been a blessing, especially for them and their relationship. She didn't think he was too keen to see it return. Besides, despite Jack being military, he never had been one for rules. He'd been aghast at becoming the 'Man' himself; having to lay down the law. Personally, she thought if he'd had a little more time it was a role he could have thrived in. Sam imagined that this sense of belonging she had amongst the Brotherhood was how he'd felt with the Minutemen. For some reason he'd fit in with the militia men like he'd always been there, always led them, which made it all the more impressive that he'd chosen to leave them; to leave that feeling behind and follow her to this hyper-military environment with minimal snark. Even when the 'bunk' situation had turned out to be less than ideal in the shared barracks for both his back and their paused sex-life. Although maybe there was something to be said for pining after him across a bunk, their fingers entangled, eyes locked, letting her imagination wander. It was a lot like being back in a tent, wanting what she couldn't have. The memory of Thera and Jonah had drifted back through her consciousness once or twice; hadn't they done exactly this? Pined after each other in the ruins of a world, on bunks surrounded by metal and steam, just trying to survive. It was almost nostalgic, in a horribly frustrating kind of way.

Not that she had much time to think on that or want to do much other than fall into an exhausted sleep. Her days were busy and full; Maxson hadn't been kidding about the training. She'd never complain about the Airforce's physical training sessions again. There was so much emphasis on strength and endurance here; probably to operate the suits with any skill or efficiency. Nor had she ever had to really get to grips with heavy-duty melee weaponry like this before. Apparently nothing killed Super Mutants quite so well as a Power Fist to the face or a giant electrified sword – not that both weren't entirely cool. She'd argue that about a dozen rounds from her semi-automatic 10mm had been fairly effective at close range that one time but that would have gotten her another ten laps up and down the damn inner scaffolding and dozens of crunches on top of the hundreds they'd already forced her to make. She'd thought the Radscorpion cardio that Jack had set up with the Minutemen had kept her fit … this was about half the adrenalin and twice the pain. It might also have been the strangest damn version of unarmed combat she'd ever seen, if she was going to name it she'd go somewhere with Krav Maga which she'd seen in the Middle East, but more brutal. Her aches had bruises by the time they crawled into bed each night. Jack had groaned, his hands on his knees rubbing them beside her.

"You know I think they may be about to blow my knees a few decades too soon." he grumbled. She'd tossed him one of the 'instant cold' bags she'd snagged from one of the supply crates. He'd collapsed onto the bed with it and made sounds that had her stuffing her head into her pillow so as not to be tempted and do something she'd only likely regret in public, and which would undoubtedly make his knees hurt worse. When she'd emerged from her pillow Jack was snoring face down in his. At least getting a decent night's sleep out here was easy enough; exhaustion would take care of that.

Three weeks into basic training, they'd realised what Danse had told them from the start, that she and Jack had a proficiency much higher than the average recruit. It had only taken them being the last ones standing five rounds in a row before the rest had caught on. After that and another look at their test scores, they'd been shuttled down via Vertibird to the Airport for the next 'phase' of their training. Which she quietly thought was probably in the best interest of Jack's new-old knees even if they were being put to work. The mostly intact airport was going to be the base of operations and a stronghold for the Brotherhood out here. It was strange to look out across the water and see the Castle in the distance. To know they were almost in spitting distance of their friends and Jack's men, of their room, their bed and that all important damn door she'd taken pains to install! All of that was the life they'd been building together here and yet they weren't able to simply reclaim it because she'd made a choice to be here instead, because no-matter how good it had been, what they'd made it … that Castle and those people weren't home. That was still out there and she was not going to stop looking, not now she had her foot in the proverbial door of somewhere that might turn out to be of use.

But if it frustrated her she couldn't imagine what it did to Jack. He'd caught her staring one day; out of sheer boredom she'd abandoned cataloguing the inventory of yet another supply crate that he'd lugged in for her and had stopped to stare.

"What you looking at beautiful?" he enquired, his voice announcing him long before he let his hand press very gently into her back. Just brushing down the centre and reminding her that his touch was here and welcome.

Sam inclined her head towards the Castle. Jack gave it a brief glance; a shadow crossed his features before he smiled thinly. "Let's not dwell. Onwards and upwards right?" he asked with a faux disinterest that she wasn't in the least bit fooled by. That view would break him, so he didn't look, much like his unspoken rule not to talk about Daniel and Teal'c. No matter what happened, this was on her. It had been her decision to leave their hard-won safety for a shot at home, Jack had followed. She had to make this work.

But her transition into this 'pseudo-religious military cult' as Jack called it, was at least being helped by the fact that Proctor Ingram seemed to have taken an instant liking to her; the feeling was entirely mutual. Proctor was apparently some sort of derivation of Professor and Doctor that had evolved over the years; a rank for Scribes or Scientists like Halen to aspire to. It was impressive that a military unit like this placed such a high degree of importance on scientific advancement, enough to have several 'Orders' devoted to it. Ingram was the current Head of Engineering for the Order of the Shield, which meant quite literally that she specialised in defensive technology, particularly the Power Armour. Finally, there was a woman for Sam to talk to as an equal, and a woman who was as happy to get elbow deep in engine grease and spit-ball ideas over a beer and a workbench as she was. Danse had said they'd get along and as he'd turned up on her third day following one of Sam's more gruelling shifts, to formerly introduce them and found them knee deep already in Power Armour frames as part of her 'down-time', he'd barked out a laugh and left them to it.

Ingram was remarkable. Sam had been completely taken by the woman's tenacity but she was a difficult woman to crack. Like most of the Brotherhood she didn't have much of a sense of humour, at least not until you got under that armour she wore outside and in. She could probably match Jack for sarcasm as it turns out. It had taken more than a few days of their shared love of anything with moving parts and accidental explosions to get the story about what had happened to her legs out of her. Apparently, she'd fought hard to get a front-line position; refreshingly it had nothing to do with her gender but her mind. Put simply, Elder Maxson had struggled to justify wasting a mind like hers on the ground but he'd relented at her insistence. That particular trait had told Sam more about the man in a few short words than she'd gleaned from that entire speech they'd had to listen to. She had to admire that in his leadership style, even if Jack had decided he was little more than an intolerant asshat in a cool jacket. But, Maxson's fears about the front line had been well founded. Ingram had been caught on a platform by a mini nuke which had taken out the entire side of the cliff overlooking the battle she'd been stationed in, and her along with it. The Power Armour frame she'd been in had saved her life but a 100ft fall like that had been more than it could take and her legs had been crushed; they'd needed amputating above the knee. Sam had told her she was lucky to be alive after a fall like that. Ingram had shaken her head and disagreed of course.

"Luck had nothing to do with it. It's all about the steel, the servos and the circuits." she'd declared and Sam had grinned, fair enough. A bit like a pilot putting their faith in a plane; in the end if you love the machine it would love you back. Ingram hadn't let it beat her. She'd got back in the saddle and all but ordered Doc Cade to help have her fully bonded to the frame. Together, they'd spent six months doing just that which meant she could walk and fight, better than most the soldiers in fact, but she'd never be outside the armour again. And as for the front-line, well according to her, she was going to have to live vicariously through Sam and the other Brothers and Sisters for that.

"Look Knight, if you want a little friendly advice …" Ingram started, blowing a strand of straight brown hair that had fallen loose out of her face again rather than wipe it with her grime covered hands. Sam paused, looking up at the sudden seriousness of her tone; the unfamiliar address becoming less jarring with time. Jack was right, there was something kind of satisfying about being referred to as a Knight. "If you're serious about staying out there where the action is, you need to think about maybe not being quite so 'apt' at this engineering and tech stuff." she warned her gently. Sam blinked, God, it was just like the Abydos mission again; she needed to seriously consider how high a value she wanted to make herself here. Ingram seemed to correctly interpret her unimpressed expression as she snorted and shook her head. She needed tech but she also needed to be able to come and go … particularly if 'going' meant taking a powered up walk out to the Glowing Sea.

"I know, it sucks, but I'm just saying they've got your IQ scores. Hell, we all do … they got posted to all the Heads. Pair that with those initial marksmanship and physical scores, every one of us has a vested interest in getting you into our areas. And God knows I need the help." she admitted honestly, looking sympathetic. "But I've just told you what happened to me, how hard I had to push just to get out there. From what you've told me, your experience on the front-line, your history, the Elder isn't the type to waste that kind of experience. Not unless you show him something that a dozen other soldiers can't. Like how to completely re-strip a HUDS like that." she indicated Sam's latest work with a grin. "Soldiers are a dime a dozen. Hell, he has your husband now and he's got Paladin Danse back to take the battle to the ground. But minds … minds like yours are rare. Elder Maxson's learnt from bitter experience with me. Believe it when I say he won't make the same mistake twice." she confided.

Ingram was right of course. Sam had been approached by the Order of the Sword, Flight Captain Kellis and even the Elder of the Proctors themselves in her first few weeks; introducing themselves, trying to entice her into their little corner of the Prydwen. So far she'd stuck with Ingram because of their mutual understanding but she wasn't a fool to not have noticed how she was being kept curiously busy … and apart from Jack. It seemed their paths in the Brotherhood were being very much diverged. Not that Jack was paying that any heed whatsoever. 'They can split us up over my dead body.'

The training they were being forced into was half Brotherhood law and indoctrination and the rest, well she'd quietly enjoyed showing just how good she'd gotten with a gun out here. And taking the other Knights and Initiates apart in hand to hand had been gratifying. Jack of course was shining; his new bout of youth turning him into a lean mean fighting machine. Knight Captain Larsen was tasked with whipping the Initiates and them into shape but he'd had something close to a nerdgasm when Jack had picked up a staff and displayed just how good he'd gotten through his sparring practice with Teal'c over the years. He was also shining in military strategy; his infamous tactical mind had a field day inventing new ways to use old but good stuff out here. Things they'd never seen or thought of before apparently. It seemed they were both becoming hot commodities for the various Heads. Kellis made no bones that he wanted Jack in his squad as an eye in the sky and Maxson seemed to be keeping a closer eye on him she suspected; realising what an asset he might have just gotten under his command.

That and she knew he'd been spending some serious time inside the Vertibirds. The last two days he'd come back practically vibrating as he tried to describe every movement, hover, switch and sound on board. The fact that her opportunities inside the Vertibird had been somewhat reduced by the decision to have her field tested for the Power Armour hadn't escaped her notice. They didn't want her flying those death traps but Jack was almost being pushed at them, or he was running at them; she thought it was about 50:50. "We'll need transport Sam … those things are about as good as we're going to get." He was of course right and she should have suspected he'd have a tactical reason other than just getting his adrenalin shots from it.

Everything Ingram had revealed today, even her warning, had given her even more to think on. As she'd wandered back to her bunk that evening, traversing the steel framework of the Prydwen lower decks, she'd been distracted. She almost jumped out of her skin when Jack had appeared, as if from thin air, bleeding out of the shadows and looming over her, her fist had curled and drawn back in preparation. "Hey gorgeous. Are you done playing with your armour?" A barely formed grin hovered over his lips, his eyes delighting in having surprised her.

Her breath caught and her heart pounded as she lowered her fist and admired the fact that he really was unbelievably sexy in his military fatigues, his dog tags glinting and that rakish grin on his face. She reached out, grasping his wrist and tugging him none too gently with her, down the metal staircase and to the bowels of the airship. No one ever came down here, not at this time of night. She knew because she'd used it to get in a bit of reading about their new 'allies'.

"What … no honey how was your day?" he quipped, as she drew him down to a dark little alcove she'd spotted. "Not that I'm not very much excited to see where this is going, but …" she turned around and gripped his shirt, drawing him down to her mouth and kissing him, to stop him from saying what she was certain he was about to.

"No talking." she rasped. She didn't want to question how she was feeling right now; adrenalin and exhaustion blotting out a lot of what she didn't want to feel. His fingers slid around her waist as he pulled back, giving her a slow smile as he drew them further back into the darkness of the alcove. Her mouth went dry as she found herself suddenly, quite of her own devices, in a very dark corner of the ship, in the dead of night, with her husband whom she'd barely touched in a month. His smell and soft chuckle were comforting as he surrounded her without crowding her, which was a skill all to itself.

Had they not left their last encounter so tense, what felt like ages ago now in the little garage in the Police HQ in Cambridge, she suspected he'd have been the one to accost her and drag her into this alcove to have his wicked way with her. A part of her almost wished he'd tried that; the sudden short sharp shock of his touch and the way he'd be inside her in one long powerful stroke that would leave her breathless. But there was another part of her now; a part that felt panic clawing at the back of her throat at the idea of him touching her with real intent. They'd almost left it too long she realised. Let it build up into some sort of unspoken barrier between them that she was afraid they might never breach if she didn't make the first move.

"Hi honey, how was your day?" she asked, releasing his mouth almost regretfully; there was still nothing like kissing Jack. She leant in and slid her hands round his ass; the press of him against her middle hard and sure, reminding her that he was probably every bit as desperate to touch her as she was him, particularly after a gruelling five weeks of somewhat forced abstinence. His hands stayed loosely on her waist, unthreatening but present. She knew their bed situation had to be killing him; to not even be able to hold her properly. The last time he'd broken rank and shoved their bunks together, they'd both got sent out to refuel the Vertibirds in their under-things, several hundred feet up in the freezing night air. He'd not done that again but she'd appreciated his attempt none the less, once she'd warmed up that was.

"Improving by the second." he admitted responding to the question she'd almost forgot she'd asked; she could practically feel the sexual tension ramping up between them. Having to deny their own desires for one another had pretty much become their foreplay, although this was the longest they'd abstained since being a couple. They had other issues now than just finding the time; their last attempt had been disastrous on her part. She'd hoped to be able to slowly re-accustom her body to being touched and held on her terms. But that hadn't happened. Instead, what she had was a lot of sexual frustration and a very much unwanted distance opening up like a chasm between them, which in hindsight may have been a blessing in disguise. It inadvertently gave her the time she needed to help put some of what happened behind her and sort out her own headspace. To remember just how badly she wanted his touch, how long she'd waited for it and how she couldn't go back to the way things were before they came here, without him. Nor it seemed could she stomach using her own hand to deal with those … frustrations. Not at the moment. God, she hoped it wouldn't be 'never again', but right now it was beyond her, the memory of the last time far to present.

She seriously doubted that their living arrangements would change any time soon. Only the four Unit Heads, the Elder and some specialist Paladins like Danse got their own quarters. So for now, if they didn't claim whatever meagre time they had together, it would simply pass them by and she'd wind up going insane. Proctor Ingram had even commented how for a monogamous couple they were surprisingly disconnected. That had stung.

So right now, what she wanted was to take advantage of this dark little hideaway and have a stolen moment with her husband. God, it never got old saying that she realised quietly. Sam reached up to slide her hand around the back of his head and bring their lips together again. They lost track of everything for the next little while as he held her and they just kissed. Soft and slow and hard and deep; a thousand ways to say I love you as they breathed in and out of each other, not an inch between them. They came apart naturally and she touched her fingertips to his slightly reddened lips. Jack looked a little dazed as he pressed his forehead to hers. She knew she'd look similarly ruffled.

"Why does kissing you feel like sex?" he murmured. Sam smiled, clutching the back of his head and holding him there, his stubble jaw pressing against her smooth one deliciously. She knew exactly what he meant. Perhaps it was eight years of being turned on by the merest brush of his fingers. Faced with this much Jack O'Neill, her body went into sensory overload; her concerns be damned. She couldn't let a few dark moments in a shower overwrite years of wanting this man.

"Wow. Charming and a good kisser … I really lucked out huh?" she teased and he laughed, the sound reverberating through her. She suspected that he was equally pleased that the tension in her frame that had been so apparent last time wasn't anywhere near as obvious now. Oh, he knew it was there but it seemed that he was more than willing to take her lead on this and just let it be.

"Oh Sam, Sam, Sam, baby." he crooned. She felt the way he said her name, the wonder still in it, as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, his tongue softening the gesture a moment later and making her gasp as she tilted her neck back, wanting to feel everything he could tease from her. "If anyone's the lucky one here, it's this old soldier." His hands traced over her arms and down to her hands, slotting their fingers together as his breath warmed her ear and tickled her neck.

"Is this old soldier all talk … or does he know what to do with a woman when she's throwing herself at him?" He quirked an eyebrow at her tease, taking her in, absorbing every nuance. She knew he was checking for signs that she wasn't just being herself and pushing away the issues rather than dealing with them. Maybe there was some false bravado in there; Dutch courage and a smart mouth but she did want this, want him. She let him see just how badly; her lips parted, her tongue slipping out to touch her lips gently, her eyes as sultry and inviting as she could make them, her breath hitching and breasts practically aching. Sam slid her hand to his ass and angled him forward slightly, pushing his knee more thoroughly against her centre and the rough cotton there.

This was definitely an invitation and Jack O'Neill never had been slow picking up on those. He pressed her back more firmly into the girder, sliding his leg deliberately between her legs. She let out a gasp as the sensation went straight to her neurons and she groaned, tugging his head to bury hers in his neck. Wrapping her arms around him and holding him as close as her body could. "Trust me to take care of you?" he asked gently and she almost sobbed. That didn't sound like he was going to go with her desperate need to end this sexual tension between them; to remind her what she'd been so desperately missing.

"I trust you." Sam rasped out. But please God, just let us be like this again. Sam closed her eyes and gave herself over to the feel of his hands and his lips, relieved beyond measure that he wasn't asking if she was 'okay'; likewise he was trusting her to tell him if it wasn't. A flicker of mild panic began to rise darkly at the feel of pleasure building between her legs from the brush of his thigh, but nothing that she was willing to stop this over. Catching her breath she focused on the rest of the feelings, all of which were exactly right. It had been over a month now since it happened. She wanted, needed, his touch right now. She hadn't realised just how much until she'd felt him pressed against her.

Jack's hands slid to her breasts and he stroked them softly. When he met no protest, only her body arching up desperately into his touch searching for an end to the ache in her nipples, he began to cup them with more intent. Squeezing and stroking hard and firm until she was aching for a different reason altogether. She reached up and tugged the zipper on her military jump suit down, her cotton covered breasts spilling out into his touch. In moments he'd pushed aside the bra and she all but cried out at the rough sensation of his calloused fingers there. His mouth covered hers, swallowing the sounds. The last thing either of them wanted right now was some overzealous nightguard breaking this up or worse, sticking them on duty on opposite sides of the ship.

"Please …" she almost pleaded, hating that she sounded like the last time when she'd all but begged him to make love to her despite her clear distress. Anything to make it right.

"Shhh." he hushed her. "Just feel." Jack instructed, his dark eyes boring into her and all but pleading too, only asking for trust. He'd get her there, fix this. It was what he was good at. He had a PhD in how to make her body thrum with pleasure now. His thigh between her legs kept up its wicked torment and she shuffled her feet slightly, repositioning until her weight was more firmly against him; realising that he really did intend to get her off like this. A compromise she realised … to see if she could handle an orgasm at all. Apparently her ever observant husband had noticed her 'problem' with dealing with her own frustrations in the bunk over from his own. Her brain started to consider the implications if she couldn't.

"Don't … don't think." he chastised, knowing the tell-tale signs that she had started down a spiralling tangent in her head. "I've got this, got you Sam." he promised. She opened her eyes, not having realised she'd closed them, and focused on the sight of him; his expression, his lips pursed, his attention fixed entirely on bringing her pleasure. Jack's fingers teased her nipples while his other hand circled her ass, using it to draw her rhythmically over his thigh.

"I love you." he told her as she started to feel the pressure building and the panic and thoughts began to quiet. There was just Jack. Just Jack and the feeling he was creating in her, the feel of his touch. It took longer than it normally would but he resisted using his clever fingers, clearly not wanting to risk that again so soon. Jack, she imagined, had been better able to take care of any frustrations that their stalled sex life had presented if his slow, steady and entirely controlled movements were anything to go by. There was something incredibly intense and beautiful in his earnest desire to bring her to this, surrounded by nothing but love despite the situation. To both their great relief she came against his covered thigh with a soft exclamation directly into his mouth. His tongue pressing back and caressing hers as she finally let her eyes close, her body humming with the sensation that she could feel down to her knees. Sam let her head rise so she could look him in those beautiful dark eyes.

"Hey beautiful." his smile was gentle and almost hesitant, as if worried what her reaction might be.

"Hey." she responded, offering him a watery-eyed smile. She'd done it. She'd had an orgasm and she could honestly say that the terrible self-loathing and shame she'd felt before, even with him, hadn't risen its ugly head in that moment. Oh, she was far from over it. She wasn't fool enough to think that; there were still a whole host of issues to deal with. But right now, as she laughed gently, his eyes alighting at the sound, she pressed a kiss to his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, sliding her hand down to cup his straining erection through his pants to repay the favour. Oh this she could definitely take as a win and let herself admit that she was still capable of being a willing and able sexual partner to the man she loved.

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END NOTES:

For the Sam and Jack fans, hope that this helps satisfy the need for these two to find their way back to each other. Sam has some ways to go yet in being totally okay sexually, and whilst not wanting to trigger anyone, it's important to remember that everyone deals with sexual assault differently and their recovery will very much vary based on what happened and the person. Sam is mentally very strong and proud. She is dealing with intense feelings of shame and she blames herself for what happened and her reactions. But she desperately wants to be okay and will try and push herself too far and too fast as we've seen. I'm trying to stay as true to her character as I can in this and Jack's whose every instinct is to protect her and 'fix' the problem, even as he knows he's part of the problem right now.

If you're interested Proctor Ingram uses an adapted 'empty' base frame without any power armour plating to walk around in all the time: wiki/Ingram%27s_UnderArmor?file=Ingrams_