"Boss, it's six o'clock."

Jennifer swirled the coffee pot a few times before placing it back on the hot plate.

"In the morning." To prove his point, he let lose a massive, exaggerated yawn. "Couldn't this wait a few hours? We have a meeting anyways."

The way he said meeting made her wince. She knew just how unpopular her meetings could be, but it didn't help to hear about it point-blank.

Without a word, she poured out a steaming mug of coffee and handed it to him.

"Thanks, General." He accepted the drink gratefully, but his eyes lingered on her back. It wasn't like her to beat around the bush.

"You won't be at the meeting, MacCready." She said finally, her voice soft.

Is that it? After a year of doing her dirty work and watching her back, is this how she was going to send him off? With a cup of coffee?

"I have a job for you." She turned towards him, eyes red. "You're the only one I can count on."

"Anything, Boss." The words were out instantly and he meant them. Seeing her on the verge of tears stirred some deep, protective instinct inside of him. She'd saved his son's life, for God's sake.

Jennifer smiled and placed a piece of paper on the desk. It was a drawing, done in such fantastic detail that MacCready couldn't help but stare. He knew a couple of soldiers who sketched in their free time. One guy managed to make a small fortune by sketching soldiers' loved ones with just a verbal description. Whoever had drawn this could have put him out of business in five minutes. His heart fluttered when he finally took in the whole masterpiece. Lucy.

The woman on the paper wasn't his wife, but the short, black hair and warm smile were similar enough to drive a stake through his chest. He buried his nose deep in his coffee when the General nodded towards the portrait.

"I need you to find her."

MacCready tore his eyes away from the drawing, a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue. Jennifer stopped him with a raised hand.

"She's a synth. Or atleast she was." She took a moment to compose herself, pretending to stir the coffee pot. "We transferred Curie's mind into that body."

MacCready spat coffee all over the drawing. The General didn't seem to notice when he hastily stuffed the stained paper into his pocket.

"Why?"

"I don't know." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "She managed to convince me, somehow."

"If the others found out about this…"

"I know." She spun around and locked eyes with him. "That's why I'm telling you."

Of course. To say he owed her was a massive understatement.

"So you want me to find her? Then what? Bring her back?"

A short pause slowly grew into an uncomfortable silence. Jennifer's eyes were fixed on the floor, her whole body stiff and her hands curled tightly around her mug.

"She can't come back here. No matter what."

MacCready chuckled, swirling his mug as he spoke.

"Almost sounds like you want me to kill her."

"It." The General's rebuke was swift and fierce, her face hard. "It's not human, no matter what it looks like."

Goddamn. She did want her dead. MacCready drained his mug in one go, but the scalding coffee didn't seem to help the queasiness in his stomach. He'd killed for her before, of course. It was really the only reason she kept him around, to keep her hands clean when a particularly annoying raider disappeared, or a mouthy Gunner captain lost his head. Usually it didn't bother him; he'd been a gun for hire his whole life, and as far as he was concerned, she'd bought his services for life by helping him save his son. Working for her had the added bonus of soothing his conscience, knowing he was killing for the good of the Commonwealth.

Maybe his other targets were just unlucky; if they'd resembled his wife as much as this woman did, he might have had second thoughts about killing them too.

"General…" He considered his words carefully. "Are you sure about this?"

Jennifer emptied the rest of the coffee into her mug, taking a few, long sips before she spoke.

"Be as gentle as you can." Her voice caught and her stony expression wavered for a moment. "But get the job done."

"Who else knows about this?"

The General shot him a sharp look, and it was all MacCready could do to stay calm and collected under her piercing gaze. Then she sighed, tip-tapping on the counter as she counted off the names.

"You, Preston and the woman who transferred her memory." She shook her head. "Dr. Amari will have to go too."

"Hancock won't be happy with that."

"Hancock will have to deal with it." She snapped, her fingers curling into fists. "He can go get high or drink himself into the ground for all I care."

"General, have you considered that she might already be dead?"

"I have. The patrols we sent to the site of the battle couldn't find her body." She tapped her chin. "Of course, the artillery might have destroyed it, or it could have been burned beyond recognition." The queasiness in his stomach just got worse, but Jennifer didn't seem to be the least bit bothered.

"There's a good chance she survived the attack, but her odds in the Wasteland are slim anyways. If you can't find her within a week, then you're free to come back."

"So I assume you want me to start at Goodneighbor?"

"It's as good a place as any."

"When do you want me to leave?"

"I told you. You won't be at the meeting." She offered him a dry smile. "Consider it a parting present."

MacCready carefully placed his mug on the table before getting to his feet and offering her his hand.

"Well, Boss. I guess we won't be seeing each other for a while."

Just this once. Get your hands a little dirty, General.

"Don't make it like that, MacCready." She shrugged, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Think about it. I just gave you a week-long vacation in Goodneighbor."

A vacation, with murder on the side. MacCready matched her smile, taking extra care not to let it slip.

He couldn't be out the door fast enough.

Thirty minutes.

A crude map of the Commonwealth was unfolded and draped across the long table, covered in Dyson's amateurish yet meticulous handwriting. Jennifer took a moment to gently roll it up, being extra careful not to damage the fragile paper. The map was one of the Minutemen's most prized possessions, the culmination of years of scouting. Dyson had brought it with him when he'd first arrived at the Castle and it had been more than enough to grant him admission into their ranks.

Buchanan, Vargas, Dyson, Cassie, Garvey, MacCready. Jennifer paused, a lump of guilt settling uncomfortably in her chest as she stared at an empty seat.

Curie.

She never would have sat on the council anyways. There was just too much at stake. One careless slip of the tongue, one innocent question and it would be all over.

Oh, Monsieur Preston! How do you cut your nails?

I'm so sorry! I'm just so clumsy in this human body.

Jennifer snorted. Even if she didn't make it that obvious, when she replaced her French robot with a French human, even the dullest lightbulbs in the Castle would start putting two and two together.

Still, it would have been nice to have her around. Her musical accent had a way of making everything seem a little prettier. And she was so helpful, willing to apply herself wholeheartedly to anything she did. Where else could you find that enthusiasm in the Commonwealth?

It's too late now.

Mel. Hancock.

Jennifer smirked at the thought of the ghoul actually showing up to a meeting. If he wasn't high off his ass, then he was sober enough to know better. No Minuteman was going to sit across from a ghoul as equals.

McDonough. Empty so far, and guaranteed to be empty for the foreseeable future. That is, until Diamond City elected a new mayor.

Comb? Combes? The newly appointed liaison from Vault 81 was hardly worth mentioning. She didn't even know what he looked like.

Finch and Valentine. The former was a farmer boy she'd saved from the Forge. Young and intelligent, he had sharp instincts and a fair bit of experience. And the latter…

That was the thing that lost her son.

Dyson was the first to arrive, perfectly punctual and well-groomed. He nodded politely before sliding into his chair. He didn't look particularly tired, but his head sagged towards the floor.

First one in gets coffee. Jennifer smiled as she opened her precious tin. It was a silly game she played, one that Dyson won every time without question. As others began to file in, she handed him a warm mug.

Her Commanders were a lively bunch, and many of them hated the frequent meetings she insisted on. Some would probably prefer facing a pack of feral ghouls over facing their lawyer-in-chief in the conference room. And it looked like today would be no different. Nobody seemed particularly excited to be present; most simply dropped into their chairs with barely a nod in her direction. All except for one young woman, who marched straight towards Jennifer and halted only a few feet away, snapping to attention and offering a crisp salute.

"At ease, Cassie." Her normally bright eyes were framed by dark circles, probably the result of a late-night shift. For once, Jennifer decided to break her rules and make a second mug of coffee.

Muttered greetings and massive yawns filled the room as each person began to wake up. The wafting aroma of coffee worked its magic, and before long there was a steady murmur throughout the room. MacCready's late again, Cassie looks like crap, two raider attacks on the last caravan. Jennifer listened to the chatter with one ear while rehearsing her comments on the botched training mission. She was going to keep it short and sweet; given the chance, half the people at the table would gladly spend the next few hours pointing fingers and passing blame.

Once everyone had more or less settled down, she moved to the head of the table with practiced dignity. A proper lady knows how to be noticed without speaking. Two centuries later, her father's advice still held true. All eyes turned to her and limp and lazy limbs tightened attentively when she took her place.

"I'm surprised you managed to catch them all." Jennifer mused in Dyson's direction, as Cassie plopped into her chair with a freshly brewed mug of coffee. Charles Dyson offered her a fetching smile.

"We do have important news to celebrate, after all." Vargas took the ensuing moment of silence as his chance to interject.

"Madam General, I was hoping to get a chance to explain-" His plea was cut off by Jennifer's raised hand.

"You've done a good job so far, Vargas. I've never had a reason to doubt you." Jennifer sighed dramatically, easing into the lawyer act. "This unfortunate training mission you planned, however, was a mistake, plain and simple. Dyson's intel made it clear that there were atleast three packs of ferals in that section of Boston."

Vargas swallowed hard.

"General, that section of Boston was nearly half the city. Both Dyson and I knew there was a chance that all three packs would show up at once." He glanced pointedly at the Intelligence officer. "What we couldn't anticipate was a gang of raiders showing up out of nowhere."

"He's got a point." Garvey's voice was bitter. "This was a big gang, forty or fifty atleast. Most of them split off, meaning we now have a raider infestation near Diamond City, if not South Boston as well." He also turned towards Dyson. "Would have been nice to have a heads up."

"The raider was part of Red Tourette's gang." Dyson explained calmly. "Her base is near Sanctuary."

"Sanctuary? What the hell was she doing so far South?" Jennifer's brow knitted in confusion.

"Preston mentioned that you left Tourette alive, General. I got there just in time to watch Strong picking the bones clean." He shrugged. "I can't interrogate a bone."

"She was mumbling something about her sister." Preston added, rubbing his forehead. "Think she was looking for her or something."

Jennifer snorted, and a few men chuckled. A raider with a sob story? Even Vargas smiled at that, sensing some of the pressure coming off his back.

"Well, can't say it ended well for her." Jennifer turned to Finch. "What about the families of our fallen?"

Finch placed a notebook flat on the table, thirty or so names written in surprisingly neat cursive.

"Most of them were bachelors, ma'am. Two of the fallen were married to each other, and four had families in various settlements." He looked up. "Compensation?"

"One thousand for next of kin." She answered quickly. Normally that would be an exorbitant amount. But they'd managed to salvage two times that many caps from McDonough's personal vault. "Relocate their family members to Spectacle Island or Diamond City, whichever's easier."

Finch nodded, scribbling a few notes before closing the book.

"Preston, see if you can organize a task force to mop up the rest of those raiders."

"It'll be expensive, General."

"If we can avoid a raider infestation in the city, it'll be worth the caps." Jennifer stifled a yawn. "Dyson, set up the map, will you?"

The man was two steps ahead of her, and the map was already stretched out and weighed down by the time she finished her coffee.

"Any updates on East Boston?"

"Two words, General." Finch spoke up before anyone else. "Fuck. Kessler."

A storm of chuckles and snorted laughter erupted around the table, and Jennifer cracked a smile. This farm boy had guts.

Finch grinned as he spoke.

"She's got her fist wrapped tight around Bunker Hill." He gestured to the map. "Recently she's started redirecting our caravans towards Cambridge."

"Goodneighbor's caravans fly right on through, and they've got an easy supply route from outside the city." Dyson added. "But we can't get access to the North End for as long as she holds these bridges."

"Does Hancock have some sort of deal with her?"

Dyson shrugged, glancing at the ghoul Mayor's empty chair.

"Whether he does or doesn't, Kessler's making a good profit. Bunker Hill's recruiting caravan guards like they're going out of style." He rubbed his forehead and sighed in frustration. "Not to mention, almost all our intelligence suggests that the Railroad Headquarters are located somewhere in her territory."

"Any chance they're working together?"

"There's a chance, of course. We can't know for sure until we get our hands on one of them."

"Hancock has always been good to us." Preston added abruptly, glancing at his General. "It would be a shame to ruin Goodneighbor's economy over rumors and guesswork."

"Then it has to be Kessler." Finch noted, tapping the map. "If we could just catch her…"

"And Dia-" Jennifer's reply was cut off by a sudden commotion outside.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. The meetings already started." The soldier's voice was amplified through the speaker on his power armor. "You'll have to wait outside."

Whoever he was talking to didn't take well to the rejection; a barrage of muffled yelling rose up to challenge him.

"—metalhead! Take a look! What do you see?"

The soldier's confused voice cut back in.

"A cap? Lady, that's a fine cap but you sti-"

"It's a press pass! So get out of my way, or so help me I'm going to go get a can opener."

Jennifer turned back to the table, dodging a dozen confused stares to lock onto one set of eyes.

No. Oh no. Preston Garvey seemed to be pleading.

Oh hell yes. Jennifer responded with a smirk, before heading to the door.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Piper, fully decked out in her red trenchcoat and press cap. Those emerald eyes were blazing with fury, but they were mercifully aimed at an armored Minuteman twice her size. The soldier took a step back in surprise when Jennifer appeared at the door.

"G-General! I told her you were in a meeting!"

"It's alright." She waved the reporter inside. "Actually, why don't you take some time off? Get someone else to take this post."

"R-Right General." He snapped to attention before marching off, probably in search of a nice, refreshing drink and a shoulder to lie on. Piper could be so aggressive when she really wanted something.

She'd barely managed to shut the door before Piper burst into a flurry of sentences, barely taking a moment to breath.

"That guy was getting on my nerves. I mean, I know I'm late, no need to rub it in. Put someone in power armor and they think they're king of the world. Thank go-"

"Woah, Piper." Jennifer latched onto her shoulders. "You're in now, aren't you?"

Finally, Piper seemed to notice that they were not alone. The formidable array of confused and annoyed faces drained away her bravado until all she could manage was a meek "Hi."

Cassie smiled warmly, Preston pointedly avoided eye contact and Dyson offered a polite nod. She didn't recognize anyone else in the room. When Jennifer returned to the head of the table, she quietly slid into the empty seat beside Cassie.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Piper Wright, owner of the Publick Occurrences." Cassie's reassuring presence at her side was probably the only thing that saved Piper from spontaneous combustion when a room full of unimpressed and uninterested people glanced in her direction. She'd never felt so out of place, and it was a relief when Blue decided to skip further introductions.

"As I was saying, Diamond City's guards are deserting every day. From what I was told, some of them are signing up with Kessler. Business is at an all-time low, too."

"I don't think hanging the Mayor was a good look for us, General." As always, the instances when Patrick Buchanan spoke were few and far between. But when he did make a point, even Jennifer paused to hear it. "Might explain the desertions."

"He was a synth. What else would you have me do with synths?"

Buchanan shrugged, his chair teetering precariously as he leaned back.

"You'll find no sympathy for synths in me, General. But dragging a man out of his home and stringing him up in the town square doesn't do much for morale."

Eyes were turning her way. Jennifer had spent enough time in courtrooms to know when opinions were starting to sway.

"We had good evidence he was a synth. It says a lot about how corrupt those guards were when no one bothered to make him take the SAFE test." She quickly transitioned into the next point. "Which is why we're moving a garrison into the city."

Based on the number of nods, she'd managed a B+. The newcomer from Vault 81 looked unconvinced, and a few others including Piper were avoiding eye contact. But the rest seemed content, and Buchanan simply shrugged and looked away.

"I know you're all eager to stretch your legs, so I thought I'd make this meeting short." She slapped the table abruptly and smiled at them all. "We've got a big day ahead of us, which means there'll be another briefing in the evening."

Groans. Expressions of dismay. A few rolling eyes. She was used to them by now, but it would be a lie to say they didn't hurt a little.

"Morning, General! Private Piper reporting for duty!"

Jennifer smiled when Piper stood at attention, hand at her brow in a crisp salute. Until the room was clear, she'd have to hold back the giggles. Near the door, Cassie swallowed her laughter on the way out.

"At ease, soldier." She saluted back. "I'm glad to see you're already getting used to the place."

"What's not to love? Cozy two-person suite, Mirelurk for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and a school to dump Nat in? Feels like paradise."

"Just you wait. Next week we're having a square dance." Jennifer threatened her with a wagging finger. "Participation is mandatory."

"Blue, I don't know how to dance." Piper pointed out, playing along with the joke.

"I'll teach you!"

"I might have to take you up on that." Piper pulled out her notepad with a grin. "You free on Wednesday?"

"Saturday sounds better." Jennifer replied, looking so serious that Piper almost forgot she was joking.

The courtyard buzzed with activity, and Piper was careful to watch her step and let Blue take the lead. A large radio tower stood in the center of the yard, surrounded by various stalls. Light-blue tarps offered a little protection from the midday sun, and Piper was grateful when they finally stepped into the shade.

"There's so much stuff here!" Piper marveled, taking massive eyefuls of everything available for sale. "No wonder Myrna's always out of stock."

Jennifer nodded through pursed lips.

"Don't buy anything, though."

"Why not?" Piper didn't mean to sound so whiny, but every stall they passed was packed with useful stuff she could never find in Diamond City. Coffee tins, well-preserved books, duct tape and even a fancy-looking fountain pen that was just begging to be written with.

"This stuff is all from Bunker Hill." She spat out the settlement's name. "It's overpriced junk. Kessler forces the caravans to pay a toll, so the traders jack up their prices."

When Jennifer mentioned prices, Piper reflexively let go of the pen. She'd been so caught up in the excitement of shopping with Blue that she'd forgotten; her and Nat were flat-out broke. What were they going to eat for dinner? A chill ran down her spine when she imagined going home to face a cranky, hungry little sister. Or even worse, a little sister hyped up on Sugar Bombs and Nuka-Cola.

"How about some lunch? My treat."

Mind reader!

"Oh sure, I guess." Piper prepared the most casual of shrugs, making a mental note to save some leftovers for Nat. "But I'm paying next time."

After walking through Castletown from start to finish, Piper finally managed to track down a curious, delightful scent in the air. The trail ended at a small food stall, a placard proudly advertising Mary's Bakery. Piper stared at the menu for a good while before handing it off to Blue.

"Order for me?"

Jennifer ordered two Mirelurk burgers while Piper took a seat and scanned the streets. Cassie wasn't joking when she said the town was usually packed. She spotted a few familiar faces from the caravan, but most of the people crowding the street were strangers. They flitted between stalls advertising guns, armor, clothing, food and more. None of them seemed like places for a washed-up reporter to find work.

"-take it. I won't say it again." Her heart sank; Blue was arguing with the owner of the store.

"General, you have to understand just how much you've done for us. We can't-"

"I've ordered my food." Blue explained, pointing to the small pile of caps on the counter. "And I'm paying for it."

"I owe you my life, General. This is the least I can do."

"The least you can do is take the damn caps." She was practically yelling now, drawing heads her way. "That's an order."

The woman at the counter shrank under Jennifer's glare but refused to touch the caps. With a frustrated sigh, Jennifer stormed off to take a seat beside Piper.

"Hey if you're really that serious about getting rid of your caps, why don't you drop some on my desk?" Piper teased, once the General had cooled down a little. "I promise you'll never see them again."

"You'd spend it all on Nuka-Cola and Sugar Bombs anyways." Blue smiled and shook her head. "I think you've got plenty of those for now."

And she'd need them, for the time being atleast. Even Mirelurk, the cheapest meat around, wasn't free. She'd have to figure out something, and fast. Maybe Blue could use a secretary?

When the burgers came, Piper wolfed hers down in minutes, savoring the warm, soft bread that seemed to melt in her mouth along with the salty, chewy mouthfuls of Mirelurk. In contrast, Blue ate with reserved grace, taking delicate bites of her food and chewing it thoroughly before swallowing. Piper half expected her to pull out a spoon and fork at some point.

It was only after she was done mopping the last of the grease with a tuft of bread that she remembered to save some for Nat. Thankfully, the shopkeeper was more than willing to serve up another burger, free of charge.

"Is this what you people used to do back in the day?" Piper asked, nodding towards the crowd. "Walk around and shop?"

"Not exactly." She tilted her head. "Well, maybe a little bit. I could never resist a little window shopping every now and then."

"How many windows did you have?" Piper asked what seemed to be an entirely reasonable question. Her ears turned pink when Blue began to laugh.

"We didn't actually shop for windows, Piper." Blue rolled her eyes and Piper's blush deepened. Blue could make even the most casual of gestures look elegant. "People would walk down the street and look through the windows," she pointed at some imaginary item off in the distance.

"And then? I'm guessing you didn't buy them."

"No, we wouldn't buy the windows." Blue's smile was pretty enough to soothe Piper's bruised ego. For now. "But we'd look at the things inside and think 'Oh I wish I could buy that.'"

"Sounds silly, Blue. Why didn't you just go inside and buy whatever it was?"

"It was usually too expensive. Like that pen you were looking at earlier." Blue shrugged. "It was overpriced junk, but it looked pretty."

"With the way you're handing away caps, Blue, I'm surprised you didn't buy anything you wanted." Piper immediately realized she'd made a mistake; a distant look came over Blue's face and she forced herself to look away. There was a lot about Blue's past that she refused to share, and talking about the Pre-War days was like walking through a minefield while blindfolded. Sooner or later, she'd end up stepping on one."

They walked in silence for a while. For the first time, Piper noticed the curious looks being thrown in her direction. It must have been surreal to see the General herself walking down the street with a random refugee in tow. She straightened up a little under the pressure of all those eyes, taking a moment to smooth out her hair.

"Where to next?" Blue's voice caught her halfway through untangling an unusually stubborn knot. They were back at the entrance to the Castle.

She held up her burger with a sheepish smile.

"I'd better get this back home before I finish it off." Blue nodded. For a moment they both stood still, not sure what came next. A hug? A handshake? A wave? None of them described their relationship perfectly.

In the end, Blue settled on a woefully insufficient nod before heading back towards her quarters. A tingling sensation in her fingers refused to disappear for the entirety of the walk back home. Only when she entered her room and glanced at her writing desk did she realize what it meant.

She needed to write.